Neville's palms were dry, and he peered around the table.
None of them knew what Lilianna was doing. Nobody looked like they even suspected a thing.
Bryan was shaking his head with a rueful grin, drumming his fingers against the green felt.
Sarah had both palms flat on the table, leaning forward.
Ciel's lips were parted, his boyish face flushed pink from the cocktail he had been drinking.
Julius sat perfectly still, arms crossed, vein ticking at his temple.
Grayson, though. Neville's gaze lifted to his back. He was watching Lilianna.
Not the cards.
Not the table.
But at Lilianna.
His grip on the back of his chair was so tight, Neville heard it creak. That was how he knew that even if Grayson hadn't seen it, he must've sensed something wrong.
Sensing Neville's gaze, Grayson turned to look at Neville. His gaze was unreadable to many, but there was a hint of restrained anger deep inside it.
Don't look at me, Neville thought, look at her. She's the one doing it.
