Page 9 of The Player

Hope returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Thank you, Basil. I’m very lucky to be married to her, as well.”

They spent the next hour in Hargrove’s company, chatting and laughing as if they were old friends. Seth played his part perfectly, keeping the conversation light while subtly probing for information. Hope, to her credit, was equally skilled, though he could sense the strain it was putting on her.

Finally, as the night began to wind down, Hargrove stood and clapped Seth on the back. “We should do this again soon,” he said with a grin. “It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of like-minded individuals who lived so close to home.” He leaned in so only Seth could hear him. “I don’t suppose you let others play with your sub, do you?”

Seth could feel Hope shiver. “I’m afraid not. While I’ve been known to show her off, especially when I have her bound in a pretty pattern, I’d cut off the hand of anyone who dared to touch what’s mine.”

There was a pregnant pause where strained tension hung in the air before Hargrove laughed heartily.

“I daresay I’d feel the same in your shoes. If I have offended or insulted either of you, let me offer to buy you lunch by way of apology.”

“None is needed,” said Hope, playing the peacemaker.

“Absolutely,” Seth agreed, “but lunch would be lovely.”

“We’ll find a mutually agreeable date,” said Hargrove, standing to take his leave. He gave an abbreviated bow to Hope. “Again, Mrs. Conway, I meant no insult. I was merely overcome by your beauty.”

Seth and Hope watched him leave and then retreated to the back of the lounge. Hope looked as though she might come undone at any moment. As she went to sit beside him, Seth spread his legs and tossed a pillow down on the floor. “Why don’t you sit at my feet, sweetheart? I know how relaxing you find that.”

Hope gave him her patented death stare. He’d seen more than one man wither up and crawl away when she turned it on him. Seth merely smiled and waited for her to comply. If he couldn’t touch her at home, it might be best if they spent as much time at the club or in the public eye as possible. Instead of arguing, Hope sank gracefully onto her hip and leaned her head against his inner thigh.

His cock jumped behind the fly of his leathers and was harder than it had been all night. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t be. He was certain she’d done it on purpose, but then he had to admit turnabout was fair play.

Later as they said their goodbyes and made their way out of the club, stepping into the cool night air, Hope let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

“You did good,” Seth said, his voice soft as they waited for their car to be brought around. “Better than good, actually. Hargrove bought it.”

Hope nodded, though she didn’t look at him. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t over yet.”

“No,” Seth agreed, stopping in front of the car and turning to face her. “But it’s a start.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, he thought she might say something, might finally open up to him, might suggest they go back into the club. But then she shook her head, her expression hardening once more.

“Let’s just get home,” she said, her voice flat.

Seth nodded; the moment lost. As they drove back to the townhouse, the silence between them was heavy, filled with all the things they weren’t saying. Seth knew better than to push her, knew that he needed to wait until she was either ready to come to him of her own volition or was at least ready to be given a nudge in the right direction. As the tension between them continued to simmer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.

They had a mission to complete, but the real battle, the one that could determine their success or failure, was the one they were fighting within themselves.

And Seth wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep it up.

CHAPTER 4

HOPE

Hope stared out the car window, the London streets blurring past as they drove in silence. Seth’s question echoed in her mind, repeating itself like a broken record. She knew he was waiting for an answer, but how could she explain something she barely understood herself? How could she articulate the tangled mess of emotions that seemed to tighten around her heart whenever he was near?

Seth was dangerous for her—that much she knew instinctively. He had a way of getting under her skin, of making her feel things she had thought long buried. But the why of it eluded her, leaving her grasping for reasons that slipped through her fingers like sand.

When they finally pulled up in front of their townhouse, Hope was no closer to figuring it out. The imposing structure loomed before them; its dark brick exterior shrouded in the dim light of the streetlamps. She stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the cobblestones as she walked toward the door, her mind still spinning.

Seth followed her inside, the tension between them thick and palpable. The moment the door closed behind them, he turned to face her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Hope," he began, his voice softer than before, "you don’t have to be afraid of me. I just want to understand. What are you so scared of?"

Hope opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt a rising panic, a desperate need to escape the conversation that had suddenly become too real, too raw. She turned away, moving toward the stairs that led up to the owner’s suite.

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