Grey Clouds On The Horizon

Games Of A Ghost

Christian's POV

Emilia stood next to me in my study and turned over a deck of cards in her hands. I knew what she was waiting for. It was the only time she lacked the pristine patience I'd ingrained in her since our first meeting. Saturday nights were our game night and she loved to play.

"What is it this time, Miss Stewart?" I glanced up and down at her white babydoll lingerie. "Texas hold'Em, perhaps? We could play for fabrics. Although it seems I'm at an advantage." My fingers piled back the string side of her thong and let it snap against her skin.

She belted out her ridiculous laugh and I was taken. The girl could have asked for every last cent my fortune and it would have been hers. Hell, she could have had my soul.

"Nah, I want to change things up tonight. So I invented a game." Her weight shifted to her other foot and she held out her hand. I took it, completely trusting of her gentle lead. "Does that please you, sir?"

"Very much, yes." We went to the window seat in her bedroom and she pulled out the deck of cards to shuffle. The air brushed my face and I inhaled the way her perfume wafted at me. "What are the rules?"

Her navy eyes reflected the lights of the Seattle skyline. "I decided to make it easy. We each get three cards and flip a new one from the pile each turn. Even numbers and queens are for statements. That means we tell each other something we've never told someone before. But odds, jacks and kings are questions. So we can ask the other person any question and they have to answer."

I raised an eyebrow, impressed by her creativity. "What about the three in our hands?"

The damn smile that kept me coming back for more crept across her face. "I'm glad you asked, sir. Those are for follow up statements or questions . So, if you want to ask another question or get extra information about a statement you just put down the corresponding card. But when they're gone then so is your luck..."

"Oh really?" I picked up my three cards and checked their numbers. An ace, an eight and a king were at my disposal. "You forget, my little canary, I have never needed luck to make you sing."

Shaken from the dream, and the confessions it had caused me to recall, I sat at the hotel bar with my third glass of cognac. It was dark, nearly one in the morning, and a small party gathered outside on the lawn. They were all there for the conference and deeply involved in the film industry. Joining them was both inappropriate and unappealing. I drank to endure my solitude.

"Another?" The bartender asked and chinned towards my empty glass.

"Sure." I agreed, knowing I was nowhere near ready to go back to bed. If I was going to sleep I would have to drink myself there.

A cackle, wicked and alluring, invaded my senses. It was a laugh I'd be able to pick out of thousands. I set down my freshened drink and pivoted the chair slightly to survey the room.

She stuck out to me like a beacon of light in the dark bar. Leaned up against the patio door, talking to a man who was on his way in, was the dazzling Emilia Stewart.

Her hair was pulled back into a bun with a white lace bandana tied over it. The dress she wore was white with blood red roses that matched her vibrant lipstick. Both her closed toe pumps, oversized sunglasses and strand of pearls where a creamy white. Em was a movie star in the golden era of film. Incredible.

My heartbeat rapidly thudded in my chest and I willed my feet to move but they were glued to the the rest on my seat.

What would you even say to her? "Thanks for the tickets. Sorry about the whole ruining your life thing."