Free The Paris Game by Alyssa Linn Palmer

her to the bar.
    “Edouard, could I get a whiskey, please, and a glass of water?”
    Edouard gave her a startled look but did as she asked. Sera downed the whiskey in a long swallow before taking a sip of the water. The nasty taste in her mouth faded and the alcohol warmed her insides.
    “Are you sure you’re all right?” Benoît asked again. He was always so attentive; she wished he wasn't gay, or that Marc might be more like him.
    “I am now,” she assured him. “Just give me a minute in my dressing room and then we can start.” She needed to fix her hair and reapply her makeup. Her lipstick had left a small streak on her hand. It looked like blood.

    After the second set, Sera retreated to her dressing room, sinking back into her chair and closing her eyes. The music kept her from thinking about her debt, but she wasn’t singing now. She mentally calculated her earnings for the week. She would be short €200 to pay Royale. She’d have to make that money. Tonight, if she could.
    At a knock on the door, she sat up. “Come in,” she called.
    Marc pushed open the door, closing it against the noise and chatter in the club. The muted spicy scent of his cologne made her breathe in deeply. He bent and brushed the hair back from her face and she was surprised at his look of concern. Even his kiss was gentle. He set a tumbler with two fingers of whiskey on the vanity in front of her.
    “Edouard asked me to bring you this. He said you were ill.”
    “When did you get here?”
    “During your first set. You didn’t notice?”
    “No.” She always noticed him. She tried to think of where he might have been sitting, but drew a blank.
    “You must not be feeling well.”
    Sera took a sip of the whiskey. It burned her throat on the way down, but it warmed her. Edouard had given her the top shelf brand. She hoped Royale didn’t keep close tabs on the liquor levels.
    “I’m feeling better than I was.”
    “You didn’t seem quite yourself on stage. What’s going on?”
    She glanced up at him. “How do you mean?”
    “You looked distracted.”
    She hesitated. It was bad enough that she had to borrow money from Royale to pay off her mother’s gambling debts. She didn’t want anyone else’s pity or disdain, especially his. “Nothing. I’ll be fine.”
    Marc nodded, leaning back against the vanity. “I ran into our Sophie the other day,” he remarked. “She was very affectionate.”
    Sera gave a short laugh. “I don’t believe you.”
    “She was reluctant to leave me. A little more time and you’ll be taking dictation and cleaning my flat.”
    Sera ran a hand through her hair, feeling the twinge of a nervous headache. “Wishful thinking.” She couldn’t show him she was worried.
    “Not in the least. If anything, I’m underestimating my chances. She’s a delightful kisser for one so young.”
    Sera rested her head against the back of the chair. “Did you overwhelm her, or did she actually kiss you back?”
    Marc smiled and crossed his arms. “It certainly wasn’t one-sided. She’s more innocent than my usual type, but that won’t make much difference in the end.” Sera realized that he was watching her, and grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Remember another almost innocent, ma chère?”
    She flinched. “They’re not your type, as you’ve said.”
    “They are sometimes.”
    “When?”
    Marc leaned closer and ran his fingers over her shoulder and down the arm of her black dress. “I was thinking of you, ma chère. Remember?”
    Her throat closed and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. She forced herself to reply naturally, though her voice was faint. “Hard to forget.”
    “You make it sound dreadful. We had so much. We could still.” He straightened and it seemed he would leave. He stopped behind her chair and hooked a finger under the collar of her dress, drawing it away from her skin. He glanced down her back and then met her gaze in the mirror. “The other night wasn’t enough,