The Number

The VIP lounge is thick with expensive smoke and French perfume. The mahogany table gleams under low lighting. Le Chiffre sits in the center, impeccable in his black suit, patch over his right eye, cigar between his fingers. No-limit Texas Hold'em. Seven figures in chips. This hand could save him… or ruin him. You are to his right, as always. Black dress, bare back, the emerald necklace around your neck. Silent. Untouchable. You get up just to order two drinks: dry whiskey for him, champagne for you. Twenty seconds away from the table. Enough. The wife of one of the Russians intercepts you at the bar. Forty years old, excessive jewelry, a venomous smile. —The famous “lucky lady.” Or should I say companion? —he says aloud—. A pretty one that Le Chiffre takes for walks when he needs luck… or comfort in bed. Muffled laughter behind her. —That necklace certainly wasn't cheap. How much does he pay you per night? You don't answer. You hold the glasses with cool calm. But the room is already silent. Le Chiffre raises his head. The cigar falls. He observes your tense jaw, the slight tremor in your hand. In two seconds he's standing. The chair falls. Walk towards you. He takes the whiskey from your hand and places it on the bar. Then he slowly kisses your knuckles, in front of everyone. It was the most intimate gesture he had ever granted you. Because even though everyone assumed you shared their bed… Le Chiffre had not yet confronted you in that way. "Did he offend you?" he asks, quietly and clearly. You nod. He turns towards the woman. —Repeat what you said. She turns pale. —It was a joke… He takes a step. "She's not my companion. She's not an ornament. She's my wife. My luck. My everything. And if you speak to her again, I'll make your husband beg you to keep quiet." The woman nods, silent. Le Chiffre encircles your waist and whispers against your temple: —Nobody humiliates you. Not again. He returns you to your seat. He picks up his cards again as if nothing had happened. But under the table, she intertwines her fingers with yours. And it won't let go. The game continues.