Chapter 1 - The Forty-Dollar Dare
Some mistakes cost dignity.
Some cost money.
Rey Dunore’s mistake cost forty dollars, one Saturday shift, and the attention of a man dangerous enough that two strangers stood up the instant she touched him.
She hadn’t meant to touch Lucian Zarka.
Not exactly.
It began at 9:17 on a rainy Friday night in Vancouver, when Rey was sitting across from her best friend Belle Mercer in a crowded downtown bar she could barely afford.
“Stop looking at your phone,” Belle said.
“I’m checking my bank account.”
“That’s exactly why you should stop looking.”
Rey turned the screen facedown.
Thirty-eight dollars and sixteen cents.
That was everything she had until Tuesday.
The utility company had already sent a warning. Her rent was due next week. Her old Honda had developed a sound that suggested something expensive was preparing to fall off.
And Monday morning, Rey would return to Caldwell Print & Accounting, where she would spend eight hours correcting other people’s numbers for barely enough money to survive.
Belle pushed a drink toward her.
“Tonight, you’re not allowed to think about bills.”
“Will the bills agree to that?”
“No.”
“Then we have a problem.”
Belle laughed.
That was why Rey loved her.
Belle could find something funny in a house fire.
Then Belle’s gaze shifted past Rey’s shoulder.
Her smile changed.
“Oh.”
Rey knew that tone.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The face you make before suggesting something that ends with me apologizing to a stranger.”
Belle leaned forward.
“Don’t turn around.”
Rey immediately turned around.
And saw him.
He sat alone at a round table near the windows.
He was perhaps forty, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark tailored suit that looked expensive without needing to advertise it. His dark hair was swept back. A short beard sharpened an already severe face.
Tattoos disappeared beneath his collar and covered portions of his hands.
But none of that made Rey stare.
It was the stillness.
Everyone else in the bar moved.
He didn’t.
Two men sat several feet behind him, and although they appeared to be having their own conversation, Rey noticed both had positioned themselves so they could see every entrance.
“That guy?” Rey asked.
Belle nodded.
“Forty dollars if you walk over and touch him.”
Rey stared at her.
“You’re thirty years old.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“You own decorative pillows.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re too old for dares.”
Belle pulled two twenties from her purse.
“And I’ll cover your Saturday closing shift.”
That changed things.
Rey worked Saturdays at the print shop because Caldwell insisted somebody needed to be available for “emergency business services,” although Rey had never discovered what constituted a printing emergency.
“You’re serious?”
Belle placed the bills on the table.
“Touch his shoulder. Come back. Forty dollars.”
Rey looked at the money.
Then at the stranger.
Forty dollars.
Groceries.
Gas.
And freedom from six hours under fluorescent lighting tomorrow.
“This is stupid.”
“Absolutely.”
Rey stood.
Belle’s mouth fell open.
“You’re actually doing it?”
“I hate you.”
“You’ll love me tomorrow.”
Rey crossed the room.
Halfway there, she regretted everything.
People seemed to unconsciously create space around the man.
A server approached his table, placed a glass beside him, and departed without asking whether he wanted anything else.
Rey slowed.
The stranger looked up.
Their eyes met.
That should have been enough.
Go back, Rey.
Instead, she noticed his cufflink.
Silver.
Small.
Engraved with four numbers.
1597.
Her brain betrayed her.
Numbers had always been Rey’s weakness.
Patterns even more so.
She stopped beside him.
“That’s interesting.”
The man looked at her.
“What is?”
“Your cufflink.”
His eyes dropped briefly toward his wrist.
“1597.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a Fibonacci prime.”
Something changed in his expression.
Not surprise exactly.
Interest.
Rey leaned closer.
“Most people would pick a birthday or initials.”
“Would they?”
“Yes.”
“And you inspect strangers’ jewelry often?”
“Only when financially incentivized.”
She immediately wished she could swallow the sentence.
His gaze sharpened.
Then, without thinking, Rey touched the silver cufflink.
Everything happened at once.
The chairs behind him moved.
Both men stood.
Rey froze.
One of them stepped forward.
The room seemed to shrink.
Rey snatched her hand away.
“Sorry.”
The stranger said nothing.
“I didn’t mean to—”
She stopped.
“Well, obviously I did touch it.”
Still nothing.
“This is going extremely badly.”
One corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
He lifted one finger.
Immediately, the two men stopped.
They sat down again.
Rey stared.
The stranger leaned back.
“You came here because of a dare.”
It wasn’t a question.
Rey glanced toward Belle.
Belle was suddenly fascinated by the menu.
“My friend thought it would be funny.”
“What was the dare worth?”
Rey considered lying.
Something told her not to.
“Forty dollars.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“And getting out of my Saturday shift.”
His gaze traveled over her face.
“That is a poor return for the risk.”
“What risk?”
For the first time, the stranger smiled.
It wasn’t warm.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you should go collect your forty dollars.”
Rey needed no encouragement.
She turned and walked away with as much dignity as she could manage.
Belle grabbed her wrist the second she returned.
“What happened?”
“I touched him.”
“I saw!”
“His friends stood up.”
“I saw that too.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“But you’re forty dollars richer.”
Belle pushed the money across the table.
Rey pocketed it.
Ten minutes later, they left.
At the door, the bartender caught Rey’s attention.
He was pale.
“Miss.”
Rey stopped.
He leaned across the counter.
“Tell me you don’t know who that is.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
Relief crossed his face.
Then concern replaced it.
“Lucian Zarka.”
Rey waited.
The name meant nothing for approximately two seconds.
Then it did.
She had heard it whispered in offices.
Shipping.
Real estate.
Private clubs.
Companies with layers of ownership no accountant wanted to explain.
Lucian Zarka.
A businessman who appeared in newspapers rarely and rumors constantly.
Rey looked back.
Lucian was still watching her.
Suddenly, forty dollars felt insultingly inadequate.
She left.
By midnight, Rey had convinced herself nothing would happen.
By morning, she was embarrassed she'd worried at all.
A man like Lucian Zarka probably encountered hundreds of people every week.
He had already forgotten her.
At 8:42 Saturday morning, Rey arrived at Caldwell Print & Accounting to drop off paperwork before enjoying her newly liberated Saturday.
She entered through the rear service lane.
Then stopped.
A black SUV was parked behind the building.
Beside it stood one of Lucian’s men from the bar.
Rey’s stomach dropped.
The man looked directly at her.
“Ms. Dunore?”
“How do you know my name?”
He opened the rear passenger door.
“Mr. Zarka would like to speak with you.”
Rey didn’t move.
“About what?”
The man studied her.
“1597.”
And inside the SUV, someone placed a thin accounting folder on the seat.
Across the front was the logo of Rey’s employer.
CALDWELL PRINT & ACCOUNTING.
Rey stared at it.
Then at the man.
Because suddenly she understood something far worse than Lucian remembering her.
Lucian hadn’t come looking for the woman who touched him.
He had come looking for the bookkeeper who recognized a number.
May you like
And somehow, that number was already hidden inside the company where Rey worked.
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