Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(50)

“Something we can agree on,” he replies, his phone beeping with a text he reads and then shows me: Command received. Daniel laughs without humor. “Like anyone commands that man to do anything. If he did, you damn sure wouldn’t be here.”

Abel leans forward. “Holy f*ck, Daniel. Can you stop being a prick for the next thirty minutes?”

“This isn’t about me being a prick,” Daniel says, looking at me. “It’s about—”

“Protecting Jason,” I supply. “I understand.” And before I can go on, the lights flicker back to life.

“Let there be light,” Abel says. “And a finale.”

Yes. Let there be light, but I listen to the announcer apologize for some sort of technical difficulty, which hits me all kinds of wrong ways, spurring me to lean toward Abel and whisper, “Does the timing of the lights going out seem odd?”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m being cautious,” I rebut.

“Take it from one who’s here often,” he replies. “This isn’t the first time this has happened filming the TV spots. It’s the TV crew screwing things up.” The lights flicker again to a controlled dim, while spotlights hit the center of the gaming area, focused on the one remaining table. “That’s what was supposed to happen,” Abel comments, while a massive screen fills the wall directly in front of us behind the play area.

An announcement sounds: “The finalists will now take the floor.” “We Will Rock You” plays over the intercom as the six players remaining are called out one by one and take a seat, and I stand, clapping like crazy for Jason, pleased that Abel and Daniel do the same. When I sit, listening as the announcer reads off the rules, Daniel is staring at me, but I tune him out, gaping at the jackpot of an astounding $100,000.

Daniel leans in close. “He wins jackpots like that all the time, yet you won’t take a few dollars for that storage unit. One might ask why?”

I glance at him. “Because I don’t want his money.”

“Then what do you want?”

My eyes narrow and defiance comes in a hot and fiery wash. “His body.”

Now his eyes narrow, and a beat passes and turns into three, before he shocks me by laughing, scrubbing a hand over his too perfectly chiseled jaw, and facing forward. I don’t know why this moment shifts the energy between us, but it does. From this point on, the tension fades, at least that between Daniel and me, and the three of us watch the match, cheering and cringing, until the table comes down to Cowboy and Jason, just as Abel predicted. With more formal lines drawn this time, no one is at the barrier, or standing, everyone staring at the big screen as it shifts from Jason, as he coolly studies his cards, to Cowboy, who is now wearing sunglasses.

Jason shoves all of his chips forward, upping the ante in a huge way. This is it. In or out. All or nothing. Cowboy can fold and accept second, I think. I don’t know this game. Maybe he wins something then? Maybe he wins nothing? He must win something.

Cowboy sits there. And sits there. Good grief, he seems to sit there forever, and then shoves his chips forward. Game on. Now we’re all standing, and I actually have my fist at my mouth, when I don’t think I’ve ever done such a thing. Even Daniel has his arms folded in front of him, his jaw set hard, while Abel settles his palms on his hips, shaking his head at the insanity of the moment.

Jason flips his cards over, and I think they’re good since I see aces, and the crowd cheers. Cowboy grimaces, flips his cards, and his hands go to his face in an act of defeat. Jason has won, and I’m hopping up and down, hugging Abel, and then I’m facing Daniel, hugging myself before I hug him. His lips curve and he leans in to whisper, “You really are happy he won, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I say. “Oh my gosh, yes! It was amazing. He’s amazing!”

He shocks me by grabbing my arms and leaning in close. “You’d better be the real deal.” He releases me, then leans back. “Let’s go to the press room.”

I have no idea what he means, but a few minutes later I’m standing in the back of a room of about thirty people with Abel and Daniel on either side of me, and moments later Jason and Cowboy walk in and sit at a table in front of the crowd. I’m aware of the women who notice Daniel, and that isn’t unreasonable. He is a gorgeous man, but I am also aware of how absolutely unaffected I am by him. Which is interesting, considering he personifies my “type,” and every train wreck of my life in one way, shape, or form, since childhood.

And as I watch the way Jason interacts with the crowd, the way he effortlessly owns the room without anyone even realizing it’s happening, I’m struck by something incredible. If this weekend serves no other purpose aside from pleasure, it drives home the point that drove me to leave LA for San Francisco. The same is not always better, nor is it always what we need. It’s simply a habit, and habits are often dangerous and bad for us.

Suddenly eager to have a closer view of Jason, I break away from my new bodyguards and move closer, managing to find a spot where I can stand close to the front and him. And I know the minute he senses I’m there, his gaze colliding with mine, the awareness between us instant. Our lips curve in unison, and someone asks him a question. Reluctantly, he turns away and focuses on the crowd.

I have this tingling, being-watched sensation again, and my gaze shifts to meet Davie’s, the muscle-bound producer who’s boyfriend to Mandy. He doesn’t look away. He just stares at me, unreadable, unblinking, and I’m not sure what to make of it. It’s getting kind of creepy, and I cut my stare away, focusing on Jason, thankful when Abel steps to my side, his big body buffering me from the other man.