Play My Game (Stark Trilogy, #3.7)(16)

“Can I offer you dessert?” Monica asks.

I look at Damien. Right then, he’s the only dessert I want. “No, thanks,” I say, even as Damien says, “Yes, definitely.”

I narrow my eyes, then look between him and Monica, realizing as I do that Monica is not our server. For that matter, she’s not a server at all.

“Yes,” I amend. “I think I’d enjoy dessert.”

“I’m so happy to hear it.”

She hands us each a dessert menu, then slips away. I open mine, unsurprised to see that the usual text has been replaced with a single piece of parchment on which the third clue is set out in fancy script:

Paul Simon, Beyoncé, the Beatles, too.

They’d all see it when looking at you.

Fire and ice, brilliance and flame,

I’ll dress you up to solve the game.

I read it twice, then shift in my seat to gape at him. “Are you kidding me?”

His expression is entirely too innocent. “Problem?”

I wave the menu. “I don’t have a clue what this means.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” He takes a sip of his wine. “I was looking forward to you finding your present.”

I scowl, but study the words again. Singers, but what did they have in common? And it says they would see it. But see what?

I have no idea, and so I move on. Fire and ice. Brilliance. Flame.

All of that seems very familiar, and I’m regretting my choice to have wine with dinner, because apparently I need a clear head to figure this out.

I’ll dress you up.

What do you do when you dress up? Fancy clothes, fancy shoes. I close my eyes and imagine I’m in our monstrosity of a dressing room. Makeup. Hair.

Jewelry.

I smile because now, the singers make sense, too. Paul Simon’s “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.” Beyoncé and “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It).” And, of course, “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” courtesy of the Beatles.

Ha! Nailed it.

I turn to him, certain that victory is written all over my face.

“Yes?”

I hold out my hand. “I need your car keys and your phone.”

At that, he looks baffled, but he complies.

“What about the clue?” he asks.

“Oh, I solved that.” I’m certain of it. But I’m not willing to tell Damien just yet. Because I’m enjoying this game too much. So much, in fact, that it’s inspired a little Valentine’s Day game of my own.

I scroll through his contacts until I find Edward. I could have used my own phone, but I’m going for dramatic flair here.

“Mr. Stark,” Edward says, answering on the first ring.

“It’s Nikki,” I correct. “But it’s Mr. Stark who needs you. He’s at Le Caquelon, and needs a ride home as soon as you can get here.”

“Of course, Mrs. Stark. I’m on my way.”

I thank him, then hang up and give Damien back his phone.

“I need a ride home?”

“You do.” I dangle his keys. “I’ll meet you there.”

His eyes narrow. “What exactly do you think you’ve figured out?”

“The clue,” I say. I’m absolutely positive that whatever my present is, it’s in our closet in one of the velvet-lined drawers that Damien had custom made for all the jewelry he buys me. Specifically, the drawer on the top left where I keep the diamond jewelry.

“And we’re going home separately because …?”

But at that, I only smile, then kiss him lightly even as I slide my hand down between his legs, stroking his now-stiff cock. “I’ll see you at home, Mr. Stark.”

And then I’m gone, leaving behind one very baffled husband.





Chapter 7


We drove into town in the Jeep Grand Cherokee, and though it is the easiest car for me to drive, I wish we’d brought the Bugatti. Right now, I want speed, because I’m racing to get home before Edward gets on the road with Damien.

I’d called Edward again as I waited for the valet to bring the Jeep around, and he promised to text me the moment that Damien is in the limo. He doesn’t know what I have planned, of course, but I think it amuses him to be in on my conspiracy, whatever it may be.

When I reach the house, I don’t bother parking in the garage. Instead, I leave the Jeep in the circular drive and use the key code to enter the house. Though we have a butler/valet/all-around general house guy, Gregory does not live on the property. On the contrary, Damien has rented an apartment for him nearby, and is building a small bungalow on the eastern portion of the property that will become Gregory’s home.

All of which is fine with me. I like Gregory. But I like being alone with Damien a whole lot more.

I take the stairs two at a time, then race into our closet, which is really more of a dressing room. For that matter, it’s really more of an apartment, considering the entire space is bigger than the efficiency I lived in for one semester during college.

The jewelry drawers are against the back wall, and a single code unlocks all of them. I punch it in, then pull out the black velvet–lined drawer that holds the various bits of diamond jewelry that Damien has given me. Right now, that means it has a pair of earrings and a stunning necklace that he bought for me when we attended a charity function.