Dawn of the Duchess

14. Beautiful Mountain View

"Let's do this," Titus challenged. "Or are you scared?"

His smirk widening, the fatty shoved his entire pile of chips forward. "Not on your life!"

"This time I'll win!" Titus snarled. "I will!"

"Of course you will."

With a whirring sound, the roulette wheel started to twirl.

Several long seconds later...

"Crap! Shit, shit, steaming pile of shit straight from a pigsty!"

"Too bad," the fatty exclaimed with false sympathy, reaching for Max's collar. The little fellow put on a terrified expression, starting to tremble in his tiny boots. Oh dear. Titus couldn't help feeling pity.

For the poor pervert, that is.

"Bloody hell!" Growling, he punched the roulette table, to keep up the charade and suppress the urge to laugh his arse off. "I lost! I bloody lost!"

"Now, there..." The fatty, who seemed to be in an excellent mood, poor fool that he was, patted Titus on the shoulder. "You can't win every time. Want to have a drink to drown your loss? It's on me."

Finally! I've only been plying him with alcohol for two hours now!

"That'd be welcome. Honestly, I'm more riled up about losing than I am about being rid of that little twerp." He jutted a thumb towards Max, who trembled under his stern glare, poor little mistreated child that he was. "I've gotten tired of him long ago. Should have gotten a replacement ages ago. But the, ehem...gentleman who supplied my special tastes had to leave Britain in a hurry. Those plebs that call themselves policemen can be such a bother to upstanding citizens."

"Well—hick!" Leering, the fat fellow leaned closer towards Titus, forcing him to fight the instinct to leap out of the closest window. "That's rotten luck, old boy! Completely rotten luck! Hm...hick! Tell you what, since I'm partially responsible for your losing your little toy, why don't I help you get a new one?"

"Huh? You...you can do that?" Titus demanded, somehow managing to sound surprised, and making his voice slurred. A-plus acting! "How?"

"Well...I trust you won't—hick!—share this with anyone, but..."

"Yes?"

"I happen to be a member of a certain gentleman's club. Occasionally, we host auctions for people with—hick!—special tastes."

Yes! Yes, finally!

"You don't say?" Titus let wicked smile #3 spread across his face, the one he normally used to scare off prospective mothers-in-law. It seemed to do the trick.

"I see I was right. You do share my—hick!—interests, don't you? Well...new members of the club are invited on a referral basis. Interested in joining?"

Titus's wicked smile widened. "Tell me more."

The fat man cackled and, reaching over to a passing waiter, popped open a new bottle of wine.

Three alcohol-filled hours later, a chipper and surprisingly sober Titus Irving sauntered over to the corner of the lounge where a bearded mountain was stewing in misery. Apparently, after Titus had (completely accidentally, of course) let it slip what kind of status and fortune the man's employer commanded, Karim had been showered with quite a bit of attention by the ladies.

"Well, well, Mr Bodyguard..." Grinning, Titus sidled over to the bearded man, whose face was covered in glitter and lipstick stains. "Were you successful in guarding your body?"