The Player (The Game Maker #3)

by Kresley Cole

  Dmitri made a sound of disbelief. “How could I not?”

  I made a mental note to ask my cousin how smug I looked at this moment.

  “Maksimilian is looking for you,” Pete said. “They’re about to start the toasts.”

  Dmitri tugged me even closer. “We will be down soon.”

  “Actually”—I twisted in his arms to peer up at him—“can I meet you downstairs? I need to talk to Pete about something.”

  Dmitri glanced at my cousin. He shuttered his reaction, but I read faces like a pro, even micro expressions. And right now, Dmitri’s was micro-irritated. “Before I go . . .” He dug in his shirt pocket and handed me his miniscule phone. “I would like you to call yourself.”

  I accepted the high-tech looking thing, but playfully said, “Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t give you my number.” I am desperate for you to have my number.

  “I will simply hound Peter for it. Maksim paid ten thousand dollars for Lucía’s; do you think I’ll do less?” He peered down at me. He was using the thrall on me!

  But then, I did want to comply. In a way, he was assisting in his own conning. As I dialed myself, he strode to a nearby table and collected his jacket. With his back to us, he drew it on and fastened a button.

  Because he was still hard?

  When music sounded from my purse, Dmitri returned, raising a brow at my unusual ringtone.

  “It’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ by Prince and the Revolution.” Zero recognition. Apparently he didn’t share my love of eighties hits. I returned his phone.

  He took my hand to press a kiss into my palm. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Victoria.” He descended the stairs.

  My cousin and I stared after him until we were alone. “What the hell did you do to him?”

  I examined my nails. “I used some good, old-fashioned sexual manipulation skills,” I said, as if I’d done more than hold on for dear life.

  Four aces couldn’t beat Dmitri’s kiss.

  Pete handed me my purse. “You’re thinking a milk-cow, aren’t you? Even though you’ve never done one before? That is a completely different animal from stock cons, with full-on emotion and entanglement. You’ve never even done a one-night badger game!” More to himself, he said, “We could still bring in Karin to close this. Maybe Dmitri didn’t have his contacts in last night.”

  Though I’d had the exact same thought, I snapped, “Oh, come on!” Marcia, Marcia, Marcia! “He likes me.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. But are you ready for a sexual con?”

  After that kiss? Deal me in! “I’m ready.”

  “You’ve only been with three men,” Pete pointed out. “And one of those guys lasted five seconds!”

  I should never have told my cousin about one-thrust Ronny.

  “Can you tease Dmitri to sexual insanity and then deny him? Get him so crazed he’ll promise you anything?”

  As if I had a choice? I lifted my chin. “I’m going down to that party—as primary.” The lead player in a con. “I’m gonna do my job, so why don’t you do yours?” I wasn’t entering the room blind—I’d read Pete’s notes on the Sevastyans—but I’d take any more information he could give me. “How many bodyguards?” The bane of a grifter’s existence.

  “Several. Dmitri and Aleks have two each. Maksim’s head of security is the bald one, Vasili. He could be trouble, so keep a lookout for him.”

  “Will we stand up to a billionaire’s kind of background scrutiny?” Though no one in my immediate family had an arrest record, we were KAs of people who’d done time.

  “We couldn’t beat the investigation three months ago, but Benji’s made adjustments since then. So maybe.” My adopted brother, Ben Valentine—a.k.a. Benji the Eye—was our tech guy. “We’ll have to roll the dice on that.”

  “Any last-minute tips?”

  “This crew likes ribald—and I mean filthy—humor. The girls do tequila; the guys don’t drink that much. Jessica will make you do shooters. Don’t waste energy resisting her. Just try to keep eating. If she likes you, life will be a lot easier. She’ll probably be attracted to you.”

  “Let’s hope.” I’d read she liked both guys and dolls.

  “If the opportunity arises, impress Lucía with your Spanish. She’s an influencer with Dmitri. Oh, and if the group hits the tables, don’t give poker advice. Besides, I think he calculates pot odds as well as you do.”

  Did he, then? To a girl like me, that was sexy as hell. “Speaking of poker”—I tapped my chin—“what if I could get him to stake me?”

  “Forget it. You’re a grinder at the tables. We need a huge score.”

  He was right. I had all the tools to make a living, but not to make a killing. Not unless I could get my hands on the deck. “So you aren’t coming with?” I didn’t expect him to. A mark couldn’t relax fully with a male family member around.

  “I’ll hang on the periphery and work the environment.” Keeping the atmosphere conducive to romance.

  I’d seen him do everything from bribing DJs to wild-dog removal.

  “Vice, these people might be gulls, but they’re still brilliant. Listen to your grift sense.”

  Grift sense was like the Force for a con artist. Maybe there was some mystical basis; maybe a grifter’s subconscious picked up on behavioral clues and channeled them into intuition.

  One thing I knew for certain: to trust mine. I cracked my knuckles. “I’ve got this. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose, right?”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh, and we turned toward the stairs. On the way down, he said, “Quiet in there.”

  The DJ had stopped playing. “They’ve probably already started the toasts.”

  Pete and I entered the living room together. No toasts. Every eye was focused . . . on me. No one spoke.

  On a stretch sectional couch, Maksim sat with Lucía, Aleks with Natalie. Jessica too. All five stared wordlessly, and the other party-goers seemed to follow their lead.

  Standing nearby, Dmitri proudly announced, “Meet Victoria Valentine. She is my date.”

  CHAPTER 4

  ________________________________________

  ___________________________________

  Pete murmured, “All yours, primary.” Then he abandoned me. Fucker.

  Lucía popped up from the couch so fast she nearly tripped. The brunette wore a bronze slipdress that matched her widened eyes. She hurried over to me and put out a hand, her diamond-studded watch catching my notice. “Encantada, Victoria. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to meet you,” she said with a marked accent. “Really, really wonderful.”

  What was up with the over-the-top welcome? You’d think Dmitri had never introduced a date before. “Pleasure’s mine.” I shook her hand.

  Natalie, a curvaceous redhead in a slate-blue wrap dress, followed right behind her. “I’m Natalie. Welcome to the party! Why don’t you have a drink? You need a drink. Lemme get you something.” Her green gaze bounced around the room for a server.

  “Um . . .” Most of the party-goers were still watching this awkward scene.

  Black-haired, ballsy Jessica traipsed over, rocking a garnet catsuit, clearly designer couture. The girl shoved a champagne flute into my hand. “I’m Jess. Now that we’ve met, the course of your life just altered. Smoking bod, by the way. I’m an admirer. Are those colored contacts?”

  My face heated. “Uh, no.”

  To Lucía, Jessica said, “My hot mamí, I’m going to have to throw you over for this stone-cold fox.”

  Fox? How fitting. And the henhouse door was opening before me.

  Lucía chuckled. “I will try to soldier on, Jessabel.”

  A nervous laugh escaped me, and I darted a glance in Dmitri’s direction.

  His brothers had waylaid him, speaking in low Russian. But they didn’t look unhappy—just the opposite.

  And Dmitri? His shoulders were squared, his eyes smoldering as he openly stared at me.

  I inhaled, then asked bluntly, “What’s g
oing on?”

  Natalie recovered first. “Right. You don’t know anything about us, so this would be overwhelming and weird, huh?”

  “A scoch.”

  Jessica explained, “Over the last year, I have thrown myself and every other available woman at that man. But he turned this”—she waved at her spectacular figure—“down. Repeatedly. Pickiest guy ever. Yet now he can’t take his eyes off his new ‘date’. You’ve beaten out millions. Tell me, was it as simple as swallowing?”

  I snapped my gaze to her. “I met him fifteen minutes ago.”

  Jessica nodded. “In those fifteen minutes, did you happen to swallow?”

  She had to be kidding. Ribald humor, right?

  “Don’t mind Jess,” Natalie said. “I’d blame it on the alcohol, but she’s always like this.”

  As Dmitri strode over with his brothers, Lucía murmured to me, “Ay, they make quite a picture, no?” She sighed. “Tan guapo.” So very handsome.

  “Sí que lo son,” I replied. That they are. All three were closing in on six and a half feet with cut bodies, though Dmitri was a touch leaner—and the most handsome.

  “Tu hablas español?” she asked, seeming overjoyed.

  Everyone in my family spoke at least two languages. Each tongue opened up new mark pools. I answered, “Sólo lo suficiente para ser peligroso.” Just enough to be dangerous.

  Dmitri crossed to stand beside me, introducing his brothers. Aleks, the oldest, had amber eyes like Dmitri’s, while Maksim’s were piercing blue.

  “We are very pleased to meet you, Victoria,” Maksim said. He put his arm around Lucía, holding her close, as if they were about to burst from happiness.

  Dmitri and I had had one kiss!

  Aleks had gravitated to Natalie’s side, taking her hand in his big one. “Yes, Victoria. A genuine pleasure.”

  I eked out a smile. “Likewise.” Though I didn’t sense any acute tension between Aleks and his youngest brother, body language told me Dmitri was closer to Maksim.

  Lucía asked me, “Where did you get that dazzling dress?”

  “I made it.”

  Jessica circled me, assessing. “Get the fuck out. I know clothes. That’s serious clothes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dmitri moved closer, draping an arm over my shoulders. “She is beautiful and talented.”

  Natalie and Lucía shared an awww look.

  Was this some kind of punking? Where was the camera? Why was I tempted to relax back against Dmitri and enjoy the ride?

  My gaze darted to Pete, standing across the room. He looked as dumbstruck as I felt.

  I told the group, “Peter’s my cousin.” Hint-hint: I’m related to “the help.” I lifted my flute for a sip.

  Jessica said, “I see the resemblance. I plan to fuck him too. So now it all makes sense.”

  I coughed champagne, then laughed at the absurdity of all this; they thought I was laughing at Jessica, and everyone relaxed. So, okay, this is happening.

  Dmitri said, “Let’s hear from the toastmaster, then.”

  Maksim nodded. “Have a seat.”

  As the others returned to the sectional, Lucía said, “We can scoot closer.”

  Dmitri said, “No need.” He took the remaining plush chair, then pulled me down to sit across his lap, all casual possessiveness.

  Near the bar, Pete texted the family faster than I’d ever seen him type.

  Maybe I wasn’t jinxed! Hell, if Nigel hadn’t bailed, I wouldn’t have been at this party.

  A man like Dmitri Sevastyan wouldn’t be signaling a server for another glass of champagne for me.

  I hated to drink on a con, but for fuck’s sake . . . I traded out my empty flute. “Thank you.”

  Dmitri took one himself. We met gazes. His spellbinding eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

  And could I be a bigger idiot? I knew better than to moon over a mark. I knew all the lines—

  “I want you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself,” he told me.

  Huh. A line I’d never heard.

  He adjusted me closer to his chest until I could feel the steady drum of his heart. He inhaled the scent of my hair, and his heartbeat sped up.

  At my ear, he murmured, “Our first kiss made me burn. I’m eager for our second.”

  I melted from his voice, as if the sound had been hot-wired to my pussy.

  “You should not make me wait too much longer, moy ángel.”

  Did that mean my angel? When I shivered, his cock stirred beneath my ass, but he controlled himself.

  I whispered, “You assume you get a second?”

  “If I have to move heaven and earth . . .”

  Guh. Heart thud. My con had a glaring weakness; how the hell could anyone deny him?

  With an enviable social ease, Maksim began a speech about accomplishments and marriage, happiness and love. He’d entranced everyone else—were Lucía’s eyes glinting?—but Dmitri overloaded my senses until I hardly registered a word.

  Get cold, Vice. Work. The. Con.

  After a couple of toasts, Maksim raised his glass to Dmitri and to . . . me. “A toast to new friends. May they always feel our family’s welcome.”

  I raised my glass and drank, nearly coughing when I spied the bald Vasili in the background. He crossed his beefy arms, his gaze locked on me.

  It’s his job to be an asshole, I assured myself. Nature of the beast.

  Everyone clapped for the charismatic Maksim, and the music resumed. Servers made their way through the crowd with platters and more drinks. One delivered a tequila bottle service with shot glasses and accompaniments, setting it on the coffee table.

  Jessica slid off the couch, kneeling on the fluffy rug to begin pouring. “Let’s get this party rolling!” Lucía and Natalie dropped down beside her. “Come sit with us, Blondie.”

  And so it begins.

  Dmitri said, “You can remain here.”

  If he wanted something, then my job was to not quite give it to him. “I’ll just be a minute.” I wriggled out of his grasp to join the girls.

  Micro scowl.

  Jessica asked, “What do people call you? Vicky or Tori? I think we should go with Tori—”

  “Vice,” I rushed to say. Only my ex had ever called me Tori. Besides, Pete had already spilled my nickname. “My friends call me Vice.”

  “I want to know why.” Dmitri leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “The word is slang for police.” He sounded as if he’d given this matter a lot of thought and was frustrated to have no answer.

  Again, I wouldn’t give him what he wanted. “Hmmm. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

  Full on scowl.

  Lucía said, “Will Peter come sit and drink with us?”

  My cousin milled around on the periphery, ever ready to make an assist. “I think he’s still working for a bit longer.”

  Natalie asked me, “So what do you do?”

  “I used to help out with my parents’ financial planning business until about three months ago. But it’s a tough”—lethal—“market.”

  “Your investment background interests me,” Dmitri said. “Perhaps you can help me make a determination about a few prospects.”

  Doubtful. My skill set involved selling dummy stocks like they were snake oil—not evaluating them. “Those days are over for me, I’m afraid. Now I’m a cocktail waitress here at the casino.”

  “How are you liking the service industry?” Lucía asked.

  In Vegas? Why, I just love when customers drunkenly grope me. And married men do it best!

  As I tried to formulate an answer, Natalie groaned. “My server gigs sucked. Note to self: If a restaurant supplies sporks, tips there will be nil.”

  She’d had server jobs? According to Pete’s intel, she’d grown up on a huge farm in Nebraska and had inherited a fortune five years ago.

  Lucía said, “I enjoyed cleaning houses better than I did slinging wings at a Hooters-type establishment. Scrubbing toilets was . . .
purer.”

  Even as I laughed, I wondered why she had done either. Her mega-rich family had controlled one of the largest coastline tracts in Florida for generations.

  Maybe their parents had made them work minimum-wage jobs to try to keep them grounded. Or perhaps the Sevastyans controlled their public information, putting their best face forward. I glanced at Dmitri, finding his gaze on me.

  A tech genius with unlimited resources could hide a lot of dirt. Hmm . . .

  “Customers can be so bizarre,” Natalie said, drawing my attention. “Have you ever had a guy ask for a cosmopolitan, but he wanted it in a ‘manly glass’?”

  “Yes! Then there’s always the guy who says, ‘No, you’re cut off!’”

  Natalie laughed. “I’ve had dudes say that to me too!”

  Dmitri wasn’t laughing, but one corner of his lips curled, the barest hint of a coming smile. His amused expression? It looked so . . . out of practice.

  Jessica handed out shots, only to the girls. Once we’d geared up with salt and lemon, she said, “Okay, ladies, start your livers. Now it’s our turn to make roast toasts.”

  Come again?

  Natalie raised her glass and winked at Lucía. “To the three types of orgasms. To the holy kind: ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ To the affirmative kind: ‘Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.’ And to the fake kind: ‘Oh Maks, oh Maks, oh Maks.’”

  Lucía and Maksim laughed with such ease I figured their sex life must be stratospheric. With a sly grin, Lucía said, “To Natalie. She doesn’t have a cherry, but that’s no sin, since she’s still got the box that the cherry came in.”

  I chuckled until I realized they might expect me to come up with one. In past toasts, I’d paid tribute to Lady Luck, but if these people expected a roast toast . . . I loved limericks, had even won a contest once, so I cobbled one together.

  “Here’s to my Vice-Vice Baby”—Jessica gazed meaningfully at me—“for being single, seeing double, sleeping triple . . . and having multiple.”

  I was still laughing when, sure enough, everyone turned to me. I raised my glass to Jessica. Feigning an Irish burr, I said, “There once was a looker named Jess, who always knew just how to dress. At a party like this, she’d land more than one kiss; who she’d fuck was anyone’s guess. Sláinte!”