"Yeah, that's definitely it," said Thomas.
"Does that mean you're his boss?" I asked, spotting a chance to learn a little about the company.
The two men shared a glance. "In a manner of speaking," said Thomas. "Fraiser has a pretty loose hierarchy. Most of the time everyone is working on their own projects and can pretty much do what they want, but when push comes to shove there's a certain order to how we operate. It helps keep the ship on course."
"Makes sense," I said with a nod. "Although it's funny, I can't really see Sebastian taking orders from anyone."
Thomas smiled wryly. "Most of the time he ends up giving the orders, even if he perhaps shouldn't"
"Now that I can see."
I felt a set of hands slide around my waist. "My ears were burning," said Sebastian. "And it's a good thing, too. I leave you alone for ten minutes and the vultures start circling." Again, there was something so personal, so possessive about the gesture. No wonder people suspected something more serious between us. It was easy to forget the nature of our relationship when he behaved like that.
Tilting my head to the side, he leaned in for a lingering kiss. I could almost feel the testosterone radiating from him. The message was clear: mine. These were his friends, but still he couldn't help laying claim to what was his. I don't know why, but I liked that masculine jealousy.
Trey cleared his throat. "Lovely to see you too, Sebastian."
"They're both being perfect gentlemen," I told him. "Are you done already?"
"No, not yet. There's one more person I need to talk with, but he's not here yet, so I came to see how you were doing."
"I'm fine. Just learning a little more about you, Locky," I said, not quite able to contain my grin.
Sebastian's lips tightened, before curling up ever so slightly. "I should have known better than to leave her with you, Thomas."
He raised his hands defensively. "Hey, it just came up okay?"
A man approached from inside. "Gentlemen. Any of you feel like losing a little cash? A seat just opened up in the game."
I shot Sebastian a questioning look.
"Most Fridays we run a small poker game," he said.
"I know a little about poker," I replied. "Can I watch you play?"
As a child I'd spent more than a few Friday nights watching my father and his buddies play cards. Games have always fascinated me. I love the challenge of working out how to beat an opponent within the confines of a specific set of rules. I think that's why I became a lawyer. When my dad realised how interested I was by it all, he took me aside and taught me how to play. Most of the time it was just the two of us, but occasionally he let me sit in with his friends. "The big game," he called it. Over time I learned to hold my own, although I hadn't played for years now.
Sebastian pondered for a second. "Sure, why not. Excuse us."
"Sure. Good luck," replied Thomas.
I leaned in to Sebastian's ear as we were led inside. "Your friends seem like fun. Perhaps I actually might be able to land Ruth a sexy venture capitalist of her own."
He chuckled. "You might be barking up the wrong trees there. Thomas works even harder than I do. He's a company man through and through. Relationships just get in the way, according to him. And Trey has been off the market for the last year or so."
"Pity. Oh well, the night is young. Plenty of time for me to play cupid."
He could only smile and shake his head.
We followed the other man across the lounge and through to an adjacent room. Inside was a group of men, chatting and laughing loudly around a large felt covered card table. The surface was littered with stacks of chips in varying size and colours.
"I should probably fold but... fuck it, I call," said one of the players, as we entered. He was an older man, and his strong features and heavy Scottish accent made me think of Sean Connery. "What have you got?"
The man he was speaking to stared for a few seconds before breaking into a rueful smile. "You've got me." He threw his cards towards the centre of the table.
"I knew it!" roared the Scot. "Don't try and cheat a cheater, Jack, you'll never get away with it!"
A few of the players noticed our presence. "Ah, Sebastian," said the one sitting nearest them, "come to try your luck? Someone needs to break Ewan's hot streak or we'll never hear the end of it." He nodded at the older man, who was now grinning and scooping in the pile of chips from the centre of the table.
"The more the merrier," replied Ewan. "His money's as good as anyone's." He spotted me for the first time. "Is this your secret weapon, Sebastian? Your own personal cheer squad?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Sebastian got in first. "Settle down, Ewan. She just wants to watch." He turned to me. "Sorry, just try to ignore him," he whispered. "He gets like this when he's had a few."
I still felt like I should say something, but I didn't want to cause a scene, so I let it go. Taking my hand, Sebastian led me around the table to the spare seat. I pulled up a bar stool and sat behind him, my hands resting lightly on his shoulder.
"So, how much you in for, Sebastian?" asked the man who had greeted us.
Sebastian glanced around the table, sizing up the other player's stacks. "Five hundred I guess."
Several towers of chips were cut out and placed in front of him. It wasn't really what I was expecting. I'd had visions of bricks of hundred dollar bills being tossed around like dollar coins, but things seemed to be much more relaxed than that. It wasn't a small game by any stretch of the imagination — by my count some of them had several thousand dollars in front of them — but compared to the sort of wealth I knew they commanded, they were playing what amounted to penny stakes.
"Five hundred it is," said the dealer. "Shall we play?"
The game resumed. It took me all of two hands to work out that this wasn't an ordinary poker game. The action was fast and reckless; exactly what I'd expected from men playing stakes far below what they could afford. Almost every other hand ended with a huge pot. Often, that's the sign of a weak player, but as the game progressed, I began to see that they weren't playing badly at all. They had a kind of raw cunning to their style that made up for their lack of restraint.