Chapter 167: Gambit
The woman holding the glass froze awkwardly in mid-air, her carefully manicured fingers trembling slightly around the crystal rim. A man in a garish floral shirt, the one they called “Mr. Max,” chuckled loudly. “Our Lennox is practically the Sonala Bar’s signboard! She rarely serves anyone personally. Only someone of Mr. Graham’s status could warrant such attention.”
Fraser exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his voice dripping with disinterest as he tapped ashes into the hematite tray. “Is that so?”
Lennox forced a practiced smile, though her knuckles whitened around the forgotten glass. “Mr. Max always exaggerates. Since this is Mr. Graham’s first visit to our humble establishment, it’s only fitting that I fulfill my duties as hostess.” With deliberate grace, she placed the untouched drink back on the table and folded her hands demurely in her lap, maintaining just enough distance to appear respectful without appearing rejected.
Summer’s gaze inadvertently drifted to the head seat where Fraser held court, only to collide violently with eyes so dark they seemed to absorb all the light in the room. Her breath caught. In that split second of contact, something electric crackled between them before Summer, like a child caught stealing cookies, snapped her attention back to the playing cards fanned across the lacquered table.
“At least this is better than drinking myself into a stupor,” she thought, forcing her fingers to stop trembling as she rearranged the cards. James’s earlier words echoed in her mind: “If you can entertain Mr. Graham, I’ll let your company go straight to the finals.” Summer’s lips pressed into a thin line. Which probably meant Fraser would only be entertained if she humiliated herself by losing.
The group had chosen to play a deceptively simple bluff game called the Coward’s Gambit. Each player drew a card face down. At each turn, one could challenge another to reveal higher numbers, forcing lower ones to accept increasingly embarrassing dares. On the very first round, the deck betrayed them all when Fraser’s long fingers revealed the King of Kings, the highest possible card in the game. The table erupted in raucous applause.
“Wow! Mr. Graham gets to punish whoever he wants!”
Fraser toyed with the gilded card between his sculpted fingers, the edges catching the chandelier light as he lazily pointed it first at Summer, causing her heart to lurch painfully against her ribs.
“Asshole!” she thought. “He doesn’t really want to punish me that much, right? At least we’ve had a… relationship before.”
The man’s finger paused; he hooked his lips in a smile and drew a line next to Summer, pointing at James. James blinked owlishly, his alcohol-soaked face paling several shades.
“Just a harmless game,” Fraser’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he leaned back into the plush sofa.
The crowd, smelling blood in the water, had already begun a chant of “Quickly! Drink up, drink up, big men don’t think!” James’s face looked like he had eaten a pile of poop. Merry tugged urgently at Summer’s sleeve, whispering behind her hand, “Summer and Fraser… No, he’s not that kind,” Summer said. Even if he did, he would claim interest from…
James closed his eyes, his heart racing, picked up a bottle of imported wine and gulped it down. After drinking a bottle of foreign wine, he put down the empty bottle and continued to dim again. Someone started taking pictures. At the fourth bottle of wine, suddenly there was a “thud” sound. James’s fat body just couldn’t handle it and fell to the ground. The little girl in the short skirt immediately ran to his side and patted him. “Mr. James, Mr. James. It’s not working: Mr. James’s nose and mouth seem to be bubbling white.”
Those present were all group bosses or sons of wealthy families, with similar status to James and many even higher than him. Who would care what happened to him? Not to mention it was a punishment handpicked by Mr. Graham. This bit of wine was just a stomach wash, and even if he died, Fraser would be there to cover it. Someone said impatiently, “Then ask someone to carry him to the hospital; you can’t just fall over and take care of him.”
When the people left, the next game continued. The table continued to deal the cards. Summer saw that James had already been carried away, so there was little point in them staying. At the game’s resumption following James’s departure, Summer leaned toward Merry. “We’re leaving after this round.” Their competition was just finished. Then they heard the man called Mr. Max in a floral shirt directly pointing to Summer’s card. Summer’s eyes moved slightly, slowly lifting the cardboard into a corner. Merry saw it from the side and drew a breath. Summer’s body stiffened. The next second, she heard Max say, “Little beauty, let’s give you a small punishment; the men in the room—you choose one to sit down on his lap.”