Risking It All: London Calling Book Three by Kat Faitour

point. She wondered why he hadn’t fixed it but would never ask. Without the flaws, he’d have been called classically handsome. With them, he paired rugged good looks with aristocratic poise. All in all, an interesting and alluring combination.
    “Let’s call it a day.”
    She straightened. “But it’s early.” Consulting the thin gold watch strapped to her right wrist, she protested. “We aren’t due to leave for hours. And I thought you had a meeting later?” In usual fashion, Bas had been less than forthcoming with details. His meetings with certain guests had increased in frequency behind closed doors in the pre-dawn hours. Thinking about it raised prickles on the back of her neck.
    She never asked. She wouldn’t.
    For those reasons, she contradicted herself. “Never mind. I’d like that.” She would take him up on his offer, because she needed a respite from stress. If that meant he canceled a backroom meeting with mysterious dark-suited men, then all the better.  
    A small frown darkened his face. “I’ll need to make a call, postpone my guests.” Before she knew what was happening, Bas escorted her to the door with a gentle hand to her elbow.  
    She stuttered, “Certainly.” He nudged her through the doorway. “Of course.” She turned as the door shut in her face.
    Blankly, she stared, unsure whether to be peeved or amused. Faintly, she heard the sound of metal clicking into place.
    He’d locked her out.
    ***
    Dominic strode out of the club as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. Clenching his teeth, he tried to wipe away the image of Natalie being led away by Payne. But try as he might, it lingered and coupled with the earlier impression of a formally dressed woman escorting a man upstairs from the casino.  
    Suspicion formed a tight knot in his belly. Not wanting to deal with any of it, he walked faster still. A cab came into view and he stuck out a hand, hailing it. Just before stepping inside the car, he tossed the club’s fancy bag with its three-course dinner into a bin.
    No thanks.
    “The Potter, Kings Road.”
    His driver nodded then pulled away from the curb. Thankful for the man’s silence, Dominic settled back into his seat. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he turned it back on and checked the messages.
    Three from Moneypenny.
    He sighed, unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to speak to her. Hell, he missed the sharp-tongued banter as much as her incredible work pace. She tossed him a lot of flak, but at the end of the day, she performed her job very well. Besides, Dominic liked spicy sarcasm. As his success built and fortunes mounted, he could count on Moneypenny to treat him without reverence or fear.  
    He appreciated that.
    Plus, it wasn’t looking like Natalie would be working as his PA anytime soon. Or ever.
    After her astonishment, she received his offer with obvious scorn. Well aware how colossally he’d messed things up, it still surprised him she refused to consider the opportunity. Even coming from him, she had to know how it would benefit her, both financially and professionally.  
    He rolled his neck, staring at the passing landscape with unseeing eyes. He’d been avoiding the thought, but his assumptions looked to be way off base. Natalie didn’t seem like a low-level employee, dealing the tables.  
    For one, the croupiers, dealers, and bartending staff all dressed in black suits. Pants or pencil skirts with buttoned jackets over starched white shirts, with varying details for each position. Some of the floor staff, who Dom assumed to be managers of one kind or another, also wore suits, but in navy or charcoal. Their ties echoed the deep burgundy tones threaded in the club’s carpet and drapes.  
    Although she wore unrelenting black, Natalie’s dress was formal. It was not terribly unlike what the other woman had been wearing. The one who had led a fellow baccarat player up the winding staircase. Natalie and Payne stopped on the