"He made a bet at the men's club," I repeated slowly, letting the words hang in the air.
"Yes, Ms. Hart," Andre said again. He sat stiffly behind his desk, his hands clasped too tightly together. Even though I was technically the guest in his office, it was obvious who held the power. His palms looked damp. His collar sat slightly crooked. He had been nervous since the moment I walked in.
I burst out laughing.
The words tumbled out of my mouth between breaths. "He made a bet about me."
I laughed louder, the sound sharp and unrestrained. I tried to stop, but it kept spilling out of me anyway, echoing faintly against the glass walls of the office.
For a moment, I wondered what Andre thought as he watched me. Whether he believed this was amusement. Or whether he sensed something far worse underneath it.
It was both.
