Glass [James Bucky Barnes]

Chapter XIX

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Zacharie Beaufort was sitting at James' left, his cards facedown on the table in front of him. He had a smirk as he chatted with the man at the table.
Ivy stayed at the bar, trying to read their lips as they spoke, hoping to catch a glimpse of their conversation from afar.
The bartender put her drink on the counter. She knew she was close to her limit, but boredom pushed her to drink it anyway. What else was she supposed to do?
The stool was getting uncomfortable, only making the wait more unbearable.
Her gaze moved to James, who caught her stare and pressed his lips together. He gave her a quick smile.
Beaufort looked in the same direction, spotting Ivy, and his brows lifted. "Who's the lady?" He asked in a thick French accent.
James' head jerked to the side. "My wife." He said simply.
Zacharie lifted his hand, gesturing for Ivy to come over. She hesitated, noticing James' body tense.
Without even realizing her legs started to move, bringing her to the poker table.
"Good evening." She flashed a smile, feeling her hand being grabbed.
Zacharie kissed her hand, looking up at her with his dark eyes. "It's a shame to keep such beauty so far, isn't it?" He chuckled, looking over at the other men at the table.
"You know how to play?" He asked.
Yes. She glanced at James, his face still. "No, unfortunately." His face relaxed a bit.

James patted his thigh, looking at her. "Come here, darling. I can use some luck."
It was so unusual to hear that tone from him.
Ivy stepped closet, sitting on his lap.
They remained frozen for a few seconds, before she leaned against his chest, putting on a coy smile. "So, shall we?" She nodded at the table, wrapping an arm around James' neck.
He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from her.
They started playing again, and soon enough James won the first hand.
Two men at the table were talking business, switching back and forth from English to French, making it hard for Ivy to follow.
James shifted in his seat, holding her waist to keep her steady. His breath hitched for a second when she moved a bit too high.
"I heard you had something to offer." Beaufort spoke again, his gaze on the cards in his hands.
James folded, putting down his cards. "I was told that's your genre."
"It is." Zacharie agreed, adding more chips to his pile.
"I can tell you more about it."
The man nodded, pursing his bottom lips. "Why don't you come by my suit? I have this Henri Jaye to try out. Drinking with someone is way better." He grinned.
"Sounds good."
Ivy felt his gaze on her and looked up. "Take your lovely wife too. You like wine, don't you?"
"I do." She said, a slight smile on her face. She swallowed the unpleasant feeling growing in her throat.
Zacharie stood up, once again reaching for her hand. "I'll see you later."

They waited for a few seconds before leaving the table too.
Ivy rushed to the bathroom, her heart drumming in her chest.
Cold water splashed on her arms and hands as she scrubbed her skin. She hated the way that man looked at her, how her body recoiled, and hated even more pretending not to hate it.
Her breaths were shallow, her eyes stinging. She had to do it.
Everything about that man screamed danger.
The dark of his eyes was so intense and lifeless at the same time that it made her stomach turn.
She looked right into his eyes and saw nothing.
Were these the people she would meet from this moment?
Shells of humans.
The door opened, and her head snapped towards it.
James walked in, a line creasing his forehead. "Hey."
"I'm gonna be out in a moment." Ivy dried her hands, quickly walking to the door.
James grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the bathroom. "Are you ok?"
She was pale, drops of sweat on her forehead. "Yes." She lied.
He didn't believe her, nor her trembling voice. "Doc, what's wrong?"
Ivy shook her head, a nervous laugh leaving her lips. "Nothing. I just drank too much on an empty stomach."