All In (Le Chiffre×OFC)

Chapter 11 🍋

"U-uncle Jim?"

"The one and only," he says, grinning at my shocked expression.

"You're staying here too?"

"Indeed, we are," he confirms as a tall and brunette English lady walks up beside him.

"You must be Evie. It's nice to meet you. My name's Vesper Lynd."

"Likewise, I'm sure."

"So, where's your date? Will I get to meet him?"

"You will at some point. He's running a poker tournament tonight, so he's a little busy."

"He's the one running this competition!?"

"Yes...Why?"

I gasp in realization.

"Are- are you joining?"

"Yes, I am."

"Oh... Well... This should be interesting. Who should I cheer for?," I ask jokingly.

Uncle Jim's lips are set in a tight, straight line. He looks pensive.

"Is everything okay?"

"No. No, It's not."

"What's wrong?"

"E...," he takes my hand in his large one, "please, please, get far away from here. You have no idea what's happening. I'm here doing work for the British government, and it's going to get dangerous," he explains.

"Dangerous? It's a poker game! How could that possibly be dangerous?"

"Please, darling... Get away from here while you can. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me. Jean will take care of me. He has since I've known him."

He gives me a rueful smile, but says nothing more.

"I hope he does," says uncle Jim as he turns to walk towards his room with his lady friend.

I head towards the elevator when uncle Jim calls me from behind.

"Evie?"

I turn to look at him.

"Does your man also go by the name Le Chiffre?"

I stare at him blankly.

"Ask him about his side job that got him that alias," and with that, he closes the door.

I turn away and quickly enter the elevator, pushing the "close doors" button. I look up at the mirrored ceiling, wondering what I've gotten myself into.

I exit the doors when I reach the lobby and head over to the spa. Even as I'm being luxuriously pampered and waited on, I feel... empty. Empty and anxious.

'Jean's a good man and we love each other. He's been trustworthy as long as I've known him... But what about before I knew him...?'

I don't even notice that I'm being escorted into a styling chair and that I zoned out through the entire visit with the aesthetician. The hair stylist keeps trying to make conversation, but I can only get out nods and insincere smiles.

"You're done honey. Did you want your makeup done too?"

"Sure, thank you."

I get out of the chair almost forty-five minutes later and head back up to the room. As I approach the door, I feel my stomach tie into knots.

'How do I ask him about any of this?'

As I turn the doorknob and step through, a light breeze grazes past my face; the scent of Jean's cologne lingering.