Play My Game Page 3

  “The same way you’re good for the ninety-grand marker you skipped out on in Vegas last week?”

  “What?” It’s not Daniel who balks in reply. It’s me. Shocked, I swing a stunned look at him. “What’s he talking about? Is it true?”

  But I don’t have to ask. The truth is written all over his face.

  The fact that he doesn’t even try to deny it makes nausea swirl in my stomach. Earlier tonight I didn’t even know he knew how to play poker. Now, I’m hearing he’s got gambling debts in excess of a hundred and sixty thousand dollars.

  “As I said,” Jared continues. “The men downstairs are friends. I have an understanding of their worth, as well as their ability and reputation for paying their debts. You, on the other hand, were an unknown. I don’t invite anyone to play without first examining my exposure for risk.”

  As upset as I am with Daniel, I level a glare at Jared Rush. “So, you knew he had a gambling problem and you still invited him tonight?”

  “He’s a big boy, Ms. Laurent. It’s not my job to coddle him. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Well, congratulations. You rolled the dice tonight, too. Now, you’re out seventy-five thousand dollars.”

  “Melanie, please.” Daniel grabs my hand, visibly horrified. “For fuck’s sake, I don’t need you fighting my battles.”

  “She’s loyal,” Rush remarks, drawing my attention back to him again. “Loyal and a fighter. I’ll bet you can’t turn either of those qualities off, no matter how thinly someone deserves them.”

  I stare at him, stunned by how accurately he’s assessed me. I’ve been in the room with him for hardly a few minutes and already I feel him nipping at the fabric of who I am, trying to expose me.

  Is this how he unravels the subjects he paints on his canvases?

  I drag my gaze away from the intensity of his dark eyes.

  “Daniel, I think we should go now.”

  I stand up, but he remains seated.

  “He knows he can’t go, Ms. Laurent. Not without throwing away the biggest project his firm has landed in more than a year. And then where will he be? No job. No way to repay what he owes to me and the loan shark that must already be breathing down his neck. If Daniel walks out of this room now, he knows he’ll have nothing left. Maybe not even you.”

  I swallow my indignation because in my heart, I know Jared Rush is right. Daniel made a grave mistake coming here tonight. A mistake compounded by the one he left behind him in Las Vegas.

  But the even bigger mistake would be in thinking he could outrun those problems.

  “What do you want me to tell my friends downstairs?” Rush presses. “I don’t think those men from some of the biggest banks and corporations in the city are going to agree to your IOU. Your associates in Vegas won’t wait much longer, either.”

  A curse slips past Daniel’s lips. “No, they won’t. I know that.”

  “I have the means to cover both of those debts for you, but my generosity isn’t free. It’s going to come at a price.”

  Daniel’s head snaps up, hope blazing in his eyes. “Name it. I’ll do anything. Forgo my commission on the project. Sign away my condo, my car, anything you want.”

  Jared Rush leans back as he listens to him plead, but his expression is impossible to read. His dark gaze is shadowed by the low light in the room, but I can feel the irritation crackling off the man in the stillness of his big body.

  “I’m not interested in any of those things.” His deep voice cuts the silence like an animal growl. “I don’t see that you’ve got anything of value I could possibly want, Mr. Hathaway.”

  He shifts forward now, bringing his face back into the light. His eyes lock on me and I feel the power of his regard the same way I would feel an illicit stroke of his hands on my skin. Every nerve ending in my body explodes with warning.

  “Then again,” Jared Rush drawls, “perhaps that’s not entirely true.”

  5

  MELANIE

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Daniel’s voice lifts with hope beside me. I feel the change in his stance, the instant flicker of his relief—and his desperation—to learn what he’ll be required to do to get out of this trouble tonight.

  I wish I could say I feel some sense of hope or relief, too.

  All I feel is the heat of Jared Rush’s smoldering gaze still fixed on me.

  He stares unflinchingly, unapologetically, while Daniel hurries to reach for the bait now dangling in front of him.

  “Tell me what you want, Jared. I know we can work this out.”

  “I hope we can.” Those hot, molasses-brown eyes don’t leave my face for a second. “Ultimately, that’s going to depend on Ms. Laurent.”

  “Melanie?” Daniel’s head swivels toward me. “What’s she got to do with this?”

  “I want to paint her.”

  My breath seizes in my lungs. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say, but this is the furthest thing from my mind.

  I want to bolt. I want Daniel to grab my hand and race with me out of the room, out of this mansion—away from Jared Rush—as fast as we possibly can.

  That’s what I want, but my feet stay frozen beneath me.

  As for Daniel, he doesn’t move, either. “What do you mean, you want to paint her?”

  “Was I unclear? I want Ms. Laurent to pose for me. In my studio.”

  Jared Rush wants to paint me?

  Images of his notorious artwork bombard my memory. I’m nothing close to an expert when it comes to the art world, but I’ve spent enough time near Manhattan to have seen at least a few of his provocative nudes, whether hanging in galleries or museums, or making headlines at exclusive auctions.

  I’m also aware that it’s been some time since he’s produced anything new. Easily a couple of years. The fact that he’s looking at me as his next subject would be laughable if his expression wasn’t so joltingly serious.

  “I’m not a model,” I blurt. “And definitely not the kind you’re known for painting.”

  His head cocks slightly, making some of the thick chestnut waves at his shoulders break against the crisp white silk of his shirt. A ghost of a smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re familiar with my work?”

  “I know enough.” My reply sounds brittle, disapproving. Maybe it is, but it’s the sudden hammering of my heart that puts an edge to my words.

  He doesn’t seem fazed either way. “Few of the women I’ve painted were models. I’m not interested in professionals.”

  That still doesn’t explain why he would be interested in me. But he is. The current of heat arcing toward me from his hooded stare leaves little room for doubt.

  I wonder if it’s obvious enough that even Daniel senses it now. He clears his throat. “I don’t think I like where this conversation is heading. Melanie’s not part of this, Jared.”

  “One hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars,” Rush replies evenly. “She can make it all go away. I’ll clear both your debts personally, the one you incurred tonight and the one closing in on you from Las Vegas. In exchange, all I’m asking for is a few hours of Ms. Laurent’s time in front of my canvas.”

  “Naked,” I point out, and just saying the word aloud in front of him makes me feel as if I’m already unclothed. A shiver dances down my spine, not chilled, but warm. Much too warm. Heat spirals through me, flushing me from my face to my toes. I fold my arms in front of me, the only shield I have against the unwanted heat this man is igniting in me.

  Daniel makes a sound of discomfort in the back of his throat. “I’m familiar with some of your work, Jared. What kind of painting are we talking about where Melanie’s concerned?”

  “The only kind I’m interested in creating.” Those dark eyes still hold on to me as he speaks. “I paint what’s real. Things I find beautiful, provocative. Raw. Anything less is a waste of my time, and, frankly, my talent.”

  God, the arrogance. Not that he hasn’t earned the right to some of it. His a
bility and critical acclaim as an artist has made him an extremely wealthy man. His power and fame in this city isn’t in question, but neither is his reputation as a debauched manwhore. I’m not sure which of those traits bothers me the most.

  Jared Rush wears his confidence as comfortably as he fills out his expensive suit and unbuttoned shirt. I’m sure he’s used to women fighting over his attention wherever he goes, which makes me wonder all over again why he would want to paint me.

  I’m not sure I want to know. I sure as hell have no intention of finding out.

  I glance at Daniel, expecting him to shut this whole ridiculous conversation down. Instead, he stands there in silence, a tendon twitching anxiously in the side of his cheek.

  My pulse kicks. He can’t possibly think any of this sounds reasonable, can he? The fact that his tongue is apparently glued to the roof of his mouth doesn’t give me much reassurance.

  As for Jared Rush, he remains unmoving on the large Chesterfield sofa, a force of nature even at rest. Of course, he is not at rest, not even close. He is a tiger about to pounce. He is the wild animal I sensed the moment I stepped inside the room with him.

  The knowing look on his face tells me he’s aware of my reaction to him, then and now. Since I tend to wear my emotions on my face, he must also be aware of my outrage at his ballsy proposal.

  My chin hikes up. “You’ve got a very high opinion of your own work, Mr. Rush. If you ask me, what you have is a sadistic eye, not to mention a disturbing concept of beauty.”

  “Mel, don’t.” Daniel’s voice is a tight, strangled whisper next to me.

  He’s terrified of Jared Rush. After tonight, he’s got good reason to be.

  Seventy-five thousand reasons. Never mind about the rest he owes someone in Las Vegas.

  Reminded of those enormous sums, my heart sinks. I grew up poor and struggling, the oldest of two girls with a hard-working single mom since the time I was thirteen. I don’t know what it’s like to gamble away that kind of money. Until tonight, I wouldn’t have guessed Daniel could be so reckless and stupid. I know how hard he works, the hours he devotes to his career. What the hell was he thinking, racking up gambling debts nearly the sum of my entire student loans?

  I’ve never been so furious with him in the entire time we’ve known each other. Yet as upset as I am, I’m also scared for him because I care.

  I don’t turn my back on people I care about, and as much as I may wish I could right now, I’m not going to start tonight.

  While I don’t want to make things worse for Daniel, I can’t stand here and pretend I’m not taken aback by what Rush is suggesting. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to cower in front of the arrogant man.

  No more than I’m going to stoop to posing for him.

  “Tell me what else you think about my art, Ms. Laurent.” He leans forward, those elegant, powerful fingers lacing together between the wide sprawl of his knees. “I’m interested to hear your full, unvarnished assessment. It’s obvious you’d like nothing more than to let me have it.”

  Daniel’s sharp inhalation beside me should be enough to keep my tongue in check. It probably would be, if not for the challenge sparking in the depths of Jared Rush’s stare.

  I force myself not to blink. “Your paintings are masterpieces, no one can argue that. But they’re also cruel. I don’t see any beauty in them at all.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. You peel your subjects to their bones with your paintbrush. You might as well use a scalpel. I can only imagine what it takes for someone to sit for you knowing you’ll expose every flaw and imperfection you can find—not only on their bodies, but in their souls.”

  Have I shocked him? His brows quirk in response, but there is no humor in his schooled expression. “I paint the truth, Ms. Laurent. It can be difficult to look at, and painful to reveal.”

  A charged silence crackles between us. When it lengthens, Daniel awkwardly clears his throat. “I think what Melanie’s trying to say is that she’s uncomfortable with some types of art, Jared.”

  “I heard what she said. I don’t need you to translate.”

  Daniel chuckles, a nervous sound that scrapes up the back of my neck. “I’m just saying, you’d understand if you knew Mel. I mean, we’re talking about a twenty-five-year-old woman who refuses to sleep unless there’s a nightlight glowing in every room.”

  I nearly gasp at the intimacy of what he just shared. I flinch internally, not out of embarrassment, but from anger. I don’t want Jared Rush picturing me outside of this room, in my bed or anyone else’s.

  I don’t want him already clued in to a weakness only the people closest to me are aware of. Dammit, after three months together, Daniel ought to realize that much about me.

  I tear my gaze away from Rush’s probing stare. “I want to leave now, Daniel.”

  Pivoting, I begin to take a step in the direction of the study’s exit. Daniel reaches for me. His fingers catch mine, his unmoving feet an anchor holding me back.

  There is a pleading desperation in his eyes. “Melanie, wait. Shouldn’t we at least . . . consider Jared’s offer?”

  “We?” I nearly choke on the word. “You’re not the one he wants to eviscerate on his canvas, I am.”

  “I know that.” His handsome face collapses with regret. “Don’t you think I know what I’d be asking of you if you do this for me? Jesus, Mel. I’m the man who loves you more than anything. I messed up tonight. I never intended to drag you into my problems. You’ve got every right to walk away right now and forget I even exist.”

  “It’s good advice, Ms. Laurent. I reckon you oughta take it.”

  I glance over and see that Rush has poured himself another glass of whisky as he intrudes on what should be a private conversation. The longer we’re in his company—and the more alcohol he consumes—the more pronounced his accent has become.

  “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind about painting her?” Daniel asks.

  “Not at all. I want to have Ms. Laurent in my studio very much. But only if she’s willing.” He brings the crystal to his lips, watching me over the rim as he drinks. “Some people may consider me sadistic and disturbing, but I’m not a monster. In fact, I can be downright reasonable.”

  I scoff under my breath.

  “You don’t believe that?” He arches a brow, his mouth tilting with the beginnings of a smirk.

  “I believe you’re a man who will do—and say—anything he needs to in order to get what he wants.”

  “One hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars. That was my offer.” He leans forward and sets down his now-empty glass. “To show you how reasonable I can be, I’ll better it.”

  “You’re only proving my point.”

  “A hundred-and-sixty-five grand,” he restates. “Each.”

  I can’t hold back my incredulous laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Although, I’ll admit, the figure staggers me. It’s a hell of a lot of money and he’s throwing it around like it’s nothing. To him, I’m sure that’s all it is. I have to believe that’s all Daniel or I represent to him, too. Nothing.

  Except his intense, searingly grim stare seems to say otherwise.

  “Three-hundred and thirty-thousand dollars,” he says. “Half to erase Mr. Hathaway’s debts, and the rest for you, Ms. Laurent.”

  Daniel’s grasp on my fingers tightens a bit. “Jared, thank you. That’s extremely generous of you.”

  Frowning, I pull my hand away. “I don’t want his money. I don’t need it.”

  “Everyone needs money, Ms. Laurent.”

  He’s right about that. I can hardly pretend that kind of windfall wouldn’t be life-changing for me. It would wipe out all of my student loans and leave plenty to spare.

  It would mean only having to work one job instead of two, giving me more time to devote to my studies, not to mention time to spend with my Mom and my niece, Katie. Precious time, considering the fragility of my mother’s health this past ye
ar.

  But not like this.

  I know Daniel needs my help, too. His well-being also hinges on my decision. I didn’t create his problems, but my answer now will either leave him to drown in them or throw him a needed life-line.

  And as much as my own financial situation could stand a little rescuing as well, I can’t do it by selling a piece of myself to a man like Jared Rush.

  God, can I?

  He stares at me, giving me no room to hide as I consider all the reasons I need to refuse.

  “Some things aren’t worth trading for any price.”

  “Such as?”

  “My privacy, for one thing. I live and work in this city. If I pose for one of your paintings, I’ll never have any kind of anonymity again.”

  “There are ways to protect your privacy. I’m willing to guarantee never to release your name publicly.”

  “People I know will recognize me.”

  “Only if I decide to put the finished painting up for sale or on exhibit.”

  “What else would you do with it?”

  He tilts his head, those molasses-dark eyes drinking me in for longer than I can bear. “I’ll decide that once I’ve painted you, Ms. Laurent. Tell me the rest of your terms.”

  “We are not negotiating, Mr. Rush.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  Shit. Is that really what’s happening here? I brave a glance at Daniel, checking for his reaction. He looks uncomfortable, and God knows he should be. His girlfriend of the past three months is in the process of bartering her body and part of her soul in order to save him.

  But it’s not my body that’s up for sale. It’s only a painting of it. As for my soul, I’ll be the one to decide how much of it I surrender to Jared Rush and his ruthless talent. If I am crazy enough to go through with this, I’m not going to give up anything except the hours he demands in front of his canvas.

  Daniel takes my hand in his again. “I’m not going to let you do this alone, Mel. I’ll come with you to Jared’s studio—”

  “Out of the question.”

  We both glance at him, into the flinty hardness of his expression. Rush slowly shakes his head.