The Master Of Deception's Richest Game

th the smell of lemon polish and lingering resentment. Kellen stood i

eyes were cold, hard chips of ice. She was holdin

aid. Her voice was crisp, academic. "

ss with white lace trim. A French Maid costume. It came wi

imsy fabric. He looked at Antoinette. She was waiting for him to refuse. She was waiti

" Kellen asked. His face was a

he reached into her purse and pulled out a stac

Five h

the bag and the cash. H

oss his chest. The skirt hit mid-thigh. He placed the cat e

e," he whispered

n't hunch his shoulders. He walked with the sam

tchen island. She looked him up

manded. "Something Fre

s. He picked up a chef's knife. The weight of the handle

ted clumsiness. She expected him

eaving the cutting board. Tap-tap-tap-tap. It was a rhythm he had learned in the back of

turned to the fridge, she stuck her foot out. It

imply adjusted his stride, stepping over her foot with the grace of a dance

y graceful for a gi

'am," Kellen said. H

au Vin filled the kitchen, rich and savory. Antoinette's stomach growled

vegetables with artistic precision, wiping the rim o

ult. Her eyes widened slightly. It was delicious. It wa

she lied. She push

id. He pulled a small notebook from the poc

or," she said.

kin. He began to scrub. He focused on the pattern of the grout. He analyzed the brand of floor wax-it was cheap, likely s

l. She wanted to feel like she was in control. But watching him work, seeing the focused, unembarrassed set

of crusty bread and dr

," sh

t the bread. He looked at her shoes-M

le at all

ntoinette gripped her fork until her knuckles turned whit