Dora frowned. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a local game. You have a fifty-fifty chance of winning.’ He glanced across at the gaming tables. ‘Understandably, it’s very popular.’
Trying to close off the panic swelling in her chest, she nodded. She had been to Las Vegas for a hen weekend, so she’d thought she knew what to expect, but she had never seen anything like the Golden Rod.
It was close to being the biggest casino hotel in the world, and apparently once Charlie’s plans for extending and refitting were finished it would dwarf its rivals.
That her beautiful little nephew—Della’s baby boy—was going to inherit even a portion of its revenue made her head spin almost as much as the stunning glass ceiling and the museum-quality Qing dynasty porcelain.
Thinking about Della made her lose concentration. It was difficult to imagine that the man who had owned all this had been her sister’s lover.
Archie’s father.
He was going to be a very rich young man.
How long would it be before Archie succumbed to the glamour and opulence? And it wasn’t just the trappings of wealth. Here in Macau, he had a half-brother, half-sisters—a family.
In comparison, what could life in England offer him?
She bit her fingernail. The short answer was not much. One aunt, two indifferent grandparents and a small terraced house with a power shower.
‘Now might be a good time to pause, perhaps have some tea,’ said Charlie. ‘I’m sure you have plenty of questions, so let’s go somewhere quieter.’
At the word ‘quieter’, she felt her solar plexus squeeze. Tea would be lovely, but ‘quieter’ likely meant somewhere without people.
Keeping her face carefully expressionless, she said, ‘Could we have it down here? So I can sample what’s on offer?’
She felt as if she was playing poker, or perhaps chess. All this having to think ahead and see all the angles... But if Charlie suspected she was trying to avoid being alone with him, he gave no indication.
Less than five minutes later they were sitting in a beautiful, traditionally styled tea lounge. They weren’t exactly in the thick of it. The tables around them were conspicuously empty. But there were enough people around for her to feel safe.
Safe-ish, she thought, glancing to where Charlie was sitting, his mesmerisingly handsome face giving nothing away.
Even without the accompanying bodyguards, you could tell he was a VIP. His bespoke but determinedly inconspicuous suit signalled his status almost as much as his nothing-to-prove manner.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked.
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ she said truthfully, gazing around the room at the polished mahogany furniture and bronze lanterns. Like his home, it paid homage to Chinese aesthetics, but not in a tacky or hackneyed way. ‘It’s got a real nineteen-thirties vibe.’
He smiled slowly, his dark eyes steady on her face. ‘In the thirties, before Macau was the Vegas of the East, it used to be known as the Casablanca of the South China Seas.’ Waving away the waiter, he leaned forward to pour the tea. ‘It had it all. Opium smugglers. Smoky nightclubs. Gangsters on the run and beautiful women.’
The pupils of his eyes flared, and she felt the thick choke of desire in her throat.
‘Basically, it was the original sin city,’ he said softly.
Watching the faint flush of pink spread over Dora’s skin, Charlie felt his body grow painfully hard. Right now, with an erection bulking out the front of his trousers, there were any number of rules he would break to pull Dora across the table and onto his lap.
She was wearing a silky blouse, and that skirt she’d worn in London the day this had all kicked off between them.
He had denied it at the time, but he knew he had never felt such all-consuming lust for a woman.
Obviously. She was forbidden fruit.
His brain paused, recalling that moment in the garden when he’d tasted her, and he felt desire tug at him again. He wanted to consume her—only it wouldn’t be knowledge he acquired, but chaos and regret. Something he’d already emphatically proved by kissing Dora.
It was the first time in his life he could remember losing control to the point where he let desire cloud reason and sense.
But desire was not an excuse. There was no need to grab when the table was full. His father had drummed that into him when he was a small boy. And for men like him and Lao Dan the table was always full.