The Player (The Game Maker #3)

by Kresley Cole

  And he’d given me a studio. Because I was an exhibitionist, he’d bought a mansion made of glass. He’d figured out my fetish and investigated it—though he struggled with it personally. He’d even gotten his scar lasered—for me. “What do you want from me now?”

  “I want the wedding ring you bought for me that you think is hidden, the one I’ve tried on daily since its arrival. I want a ceremony in front of our families, with no secrets between us. I want to be married and not just wed.”

  He tried on the ring? “How could I ever trust you? How could you ever trust me?”

  “Each time I put my faith in you I was rewarded, but I was never surprised—because I know you.”

  “Up and down, apparently.”

  “Everything,” he said shamelessly. “And you can trust me because I have never lied to you.”

  I thought back. My honest madman hadn’t lied, but he had been slippery. When he’d described the night he’d had his epiphany, he hadn’t quite included me: “I made a commitment to right my life and become a man worthy of a woman such as yourself.” He’d meant that literally; I was the woman.

  He’d even told me the truth about how he’d come to Vegas. He had been on his way to a facility. Seeing the video of his appearance back then, I could absolutely believe he’d been on the verge of taking his own life.

  He appeared so different now. He was so different. He’d turned his entire existence around.

  For me.

  I was his “incentive.” The one he’d face a loaded gun for.

  He took a step closer, his eyes thralling me. “The first time I saw you, you were making jokes and laughing, and you were everything bright that was missing from my grim life. I was mesmerized; I had to follow. You went to another bar. There was a limerick contest. You delivered the winning one with an Irish burr.”

  I blushed to recall it—one too many syllables coupled with questionable taste—but I’d been hammered.

  There once was a laddie from Nantucket, and if he saw a hole he would fuck it. A wooden fence down the row . . . had a nice circular hole . . . a splinter later, he’d come by the bucket.

  “Vika, for the first time in memory, I laughed. The sound coming from my chest startled me. And I knew you were the one for me. I just needed your name.”

  I cast my mind back. “The emcee asked me to tell the crowd about myself.”

  His expression grew stark. “And you said you were at your fucking bachelorette party. I’d finally found you, and you were engaged.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to manipulate my life,” said the grifter.

  “As I investigated your family, I discovered what a long con was. A badger game seemed ideal to begin with. I put one into place immediately.”

  My anger spiked. “You knew you’d be hurting me!” I started pacing again. “Do you have any idea how bad that screwed me up?”

  “I hated hurting you!” He scrubbed his busted-up hand over his face, seeming not to feel his injury. “I made a deal with myself: I would try to entrap him just once. I reasoned if he proved weak enough to fold—especially so close to your wedding—then eventually he would stray all on his own. I told myself if he resisted, I would leave you alone forever.” Dmitri gave me that lifeline look. “But that was a goddamned lie—because I never could have given you up. I would’ve thrown a thousand women at him until he succumbed.”

  A breath left my lungs, and I slowed my pacing. “Emailing him to meet me was needlessly cruel.”

  “You have to play to pay.” He was using our own logic against us! “You assumed one of your family members did it, but you held no lasting resentment against them.”

  Shit. Good point. “What purpose did fighting him serve?”

  “None. I merely wanted to thrash him for being disloyal to you.” Dmitri’s fists clenched. “How could he, after he got to have all those memories with you? I envy him every one.”

  Obviously, Dmitri had read all my private messages, all of Brett’s recollections—but I couldn’t talk; Pete and I had rued the missed opportunity to clone Dmitri’s phone.

  “Ultimately, the blame for hurting you goes to your ex-fiancé. He didn’t appreciate what he had,” Dmitri grated. “So yes, I made him my mark, because you deserve a faithful husband. And unlike him, I can keep my eyes on the queen!”

  Oh. My. God. Broad-tosser wordplay. This man could not be sexier.

  Gram, Mom, and Karin sighed.

  In a sly tone, Al murmured, “Checkmate.”

  Not quite. “Was the cartel threat even real?”

  “Yes.”

  My pacing ramped up. “Did you manipulate the kingpin for your own purposes?” I could never get over that. Not if he’d exposed my family to danger.

  Yet I couldn’t believe Dmitri would do that.

  “I encouraged him to accept my money instead of harming Joseph.” Dmitri waved to indicate my dad.

  I froze. “You what?”

  Dad appeared stunned; Mom looked at Dmitri as if he were a hero of old.

  “The threat was very real.” Dmitri took another step closer to me. “I told you I mended fences with my brother. At first, I did it because you obviously revere family, and I wanted to show no rifts in mine.” A united front is a powerful thing, no? “But Aleks was of great assistance in those cartel negotiations.”

  Because Aleks was a mafiya vor. “The business matters that were crucial to you . . .” Dmitri had gone to his brother—hat in hand after decades of anger—to save my dad and my family.

  “I paid the kingpin off, promising even more would come, but I asked him not to inform you that your debt was satisfied.”

  Pete said, “Creating a sense of urgency.”

  Dmitri nodded to him, then turned back to me. “I confided to Aleks my plan to win you. He alone understood I couldn’t learn charm and that courting you in a traditional fashion would end in failure. We both knew I could only hide my . . . limitations—and my obsession with you—for so long.”

  His sexual limitations. Because people who dated had sex.

  “You knew I would pull a milk-cow.” The first time I’d told him we couldn’t sleep together, he’d seized on it.

  He inclined his head.

  “Did Maksim and the others know about me and my family?”

  “No, not until the morning after you met everyone. He and Vasili, his security head, ran a check on you over the night. Your efforts to hide your background would’ve been effective, but there is nothing those two can’t find.”

  Benji raised his hand. “Wrong time to ask if I could chat with them?”

  Dmitri looked receptive, but I glared at my brother, and he shut up.

  “Maksim came to me the next day,” Dmitri said, “to break the news that you were a con artist, from a family of them. I admitted I was running my own con. He believed you would end any relationship we might have once you found out. To him, my hopes seemed doomed. My family has not visited us or called you because none of them wanted to lie to you—or reveal my plot before I could confess it to you.”

  “How did Lucía take the news?” She’d been targeted by a man who’d used con tricks.

  “She was fearful I would lose you as well. She’s been giving me tips this month.”

  I worried my bottom lip. “Why not wait longer? You told me you weren’t ready.”

  “Your badger games accelerated my plans.” He raked his fingers through his hair, even more tension stealing over him. “I didn’t want you seducing other men! So I burned your marks. But investigating each one was time-consuming. Texting Nigel as his scorned wife was easy; discovering her private number in St. Barts was not.”

  He’d investigated them all? I grasped for my sense of indignation. “Why let me agonize over asking you for money? You knew I considered fencing my ring.” The one still comfortably parked on my finger.

  “And I was silently willing you to turn to me instead. You believe the ring is a symbol. When you decided to trust me, I had hope y
ou were keeping me as well as the ring.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You were testing me? That’s why you reminded me I could walk with the money at any time.”

  Nod. “I was certain of you from the beginning, but I wanted proof for anyone who might doubt your intentions toward me.”

  “Like your family.”

  Slow shake of his head. “Like you.”

  I swallowed. “Would you ever have come clean about everything you did?”

  Another step closer. When had he gotten within a few feet of me? “I told you I would reveal all my secrets once you revealed yours. Explaining what I’d done would have been a lot easier—after you disclosed what you and your family did for a living.”

  Good point. Again.

  “I never lied, Vika.”

  The grifter in me had to applaud his smoothness; it could be argued I simply hadn’t been asking the right questions. I would try to now. “Is there anything else you haven’t told us that I would like to know? Are there any more secrets?”

  “Da. Since I first learned your address, I’ve had one of my men watching over you. When I wasn’t.”

  I knew it! I couldn’t decide what level of creepy that was.

  “You are the most precious thing to me in the world; how could I not protect you?”

  When he put it that way, creepy seemed a bit extreme.

  “In fact, each of you had a detail until I was satisfied the cartel danger had passed completely.”

  I gazed over all of my family, lingering on little Cash. Dmitri had safeguarded each of us when we’d needed it most.

  As if he was already a member of our pack.

  He parted his lips to say more, then hesitated.

  I shook my head warningly. “Spit it out.”

  “The cartel was embarrassed to have been swindled. They wanted to make an example of your father.”

  My gaze shifted to my parents. Mom’s nails dug into Dad’s arm. How close she’d come to losing him . . . He covered her hand, expression grave.

  My lips moved wordlessly. Instead of having this conversation, I could be putting flowers by a tombstone right now, sick with the knowledge of how much my Dad had been tortured.

  That was the checkmate.

  Dmitri turned to Karin. “You should know the father of your child spies on you. Every Tuesday and Friday when you take Cash to the park.”

  Karin clutched her son closer, her face lighting up.

  Dmitri added, “But also outside of the, uh, camera house.”

  Her face fell. To Walker, it would look like she’d slept with tons of lechers.

  We would deal with that in time.

  Dmitri turned back to me. “Now you know everything. Vika, I have no secrets left.”

  The anxiety I’d struggled with disappeared, because there was nothing left to ping my radar. He’d laid all his cards on the table.

  My grift sense was finally at ease.

  He took another step closer, his eyes solemn amber. “This past year was torture—I heard your voice and saw you, but I wasn’t able to talk to you or touch you. Every day I tormented myself wondering if you could love me back. Yet I would do it all over again.” His voice broke lower when he said, “Understand me, moya zhena, I would do the whole thirty-two years over again.”

  My breath left me. The magnitude of what he was saying . . .

  I glanced around. Gram and Al raised glasses in approval. Karin nodded emphatically. Benji gave me a thumbs-up, and Pete mouthed, Duh.

  Mom and Dad held hands, looking so in love, a shining example that fairy tales did in fact exist. Well, when they were so perfectly matched. . . .

  It fully sank in that Dmitri Sevastyan hadn’t just pulled a single con. He hadn’t merely utilized tricks of confidence artistry. Grifting was a life choice, and he’d lived it for a year, learning our lingo and our ways to become a master. An aristocrat grifter. The con who played cons.

  Getting played never felt so good.

  I crossed the short distance to my husband. “Dmitri, you’re not a gull.” Hadn’t I called him a thrall from night one?

  “I . . . no, I don’t suppose I am.” Hope flared in his eyes. “Perhaps I’m starting to read people better. Because I think you’re about to kiss me.” He murmured, “Do it, Vika.”

  Two tears in a bucket. Right now I didn’t feel as if I’d be reaching for the stars; I felt as if I’d be claiming what was mine. My due. I clasped him close and rose up on my toes. Then I kissed my husband.

  A grifter for a grifter. . . .

  EPILOGUE

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  One wedding dress later . . .

  You would think I’d given Dmitri the moon.

  From our bedroom balcony, I watched him showing off his ring to his groomsmen—Maksim, Aleks, Pete, and Benji—at our reception.

  Glorious did not begin to describe my husband in a tux.

  In fact, the five of them made quite a picture, all of them formally dressed, lit by the brilliant fire-red and gold sunset over the Pacific.

  Karin, my maid of honor, and bridesmaids Lucía and Nat had just helped me gather the train of my gown into a pleated bustle. Then they’d returned downstairs to give me a minute to decompress.

  Our home was inundated with family, all of our bungalows filled. Guests laughed on the dance floor, drank fine wines, and polished off sumptuous delicacies. Hey, free food awakened any grifter’s appetite. My little cousins ran around on the beach with the dogs Maksim and Lucía had brought with them.

  How Jess—part bridesmaid, part coordinator—had planned the elaborate ceremony and reception in such a short time was beyond my comprehension.

  She’d even made all the arrangements for Dmitri and me to go to Paris for our honeymoon, advising me cryptically that there was one club in particular we’d want to visit. . . .

  Champagne glass in hand, I leaned on the balcony rail and watched Dmitri laughing with the others. Seeing him this happy made my heart feel too big for my chest. Over the last three weeks, he’d relaxed so much, radiating contentment now that he had nothing to hide.

  The day we’d cleared the air at my parents’, I’d introduced him to in-laws who already adored him as my “hero husband,” the man who’d saved Gentleman Joe’s life. Dmitri had been less discomfited than usual, probably because he’d already bared his soul in front of everyone.

  That night, he’d taken me back to the Caly. After he’d made love to me until my toes curled and I’d promised him everything, he’d told me one last secret:

  “If I hadn’t hit rock bottom, I never would have been in Las Vegas. I never would have found you. The pain of the past is so much easier to bear now that I feel it had purpose. It led me to you. Moya zhena, you are my reward for enduring. . . .”

  Today I’d pledged myself to Dmitri Sevastyan with no pressure and for only one reason: I loved him.

  As if he’d sensed my thoughts, he glanced up at me. His vivid eyes brightened even more, and his smile widened. He started for me at once.

  Judging by Pete and Benji’s puzzled looks, I figured Dmitri had left the conversation midsentence. His brothers just appeared amused.

  Footsteps boomed as Dmitri bounded up the stairs to reach me. How fitting. Two months ago to the day, I’d climbed the stairs to reach his lair, hoping I could tempt a beast.

  I had. Then I’d made him part of my pack.

  And Lady Luck smiled. . . .

  Catching his breath, Dmitri joined me on the balcony. A healthy flush tinged his chiseled cheekbones, highlighting his golden eyes.

  The color always brought to mind blazing sunsets and new beginnings.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to come down,” he said, as if I’d been gone ages. “How much time does it take to do a bustle? You made the dress quicker than this.” The first garment created in my new studio.

  The strapless silk gown was a modified A-line with a straight-cut
neckline, classic seams and no embellishment. The traditional-white skirt had a sweep train and ballroom bustle. So incredibly simple.

  Except the bodice was black.

  I called the look “edgy angelic.” It’d turned out pretty snazzy, if I did say so myself. Like any great idea, the process of making it had been inspired, fast and furious.

  Dmitri had been there for every step. He’d made sure I ate and slept, and we’d nearly broken that poor couch.

  Well, he’d been there almost every step of the way. I’d surprised him with the final reveal, loving his brows-drawn expression when he’d first seen me on my dad’s arm. As Dad had murmured, “He’s bewildered by his good fortune. A man like that will never take it for granted. He’ll never take you for granted. . . .”

  Now I gazed up at Dmitri. “I was just savoring the sunset and the music—and my husband showing off his ring.”

  “You saw that, did you?” He held it up, unable to stop another grin. “At last, it’s mine. Which means I’m yours.”

  I’d had the band engraved on the inside with the words: Because I know you’ll never take it off. Love, V.S.

  We’d decided to go with traditional vows today—his voice had been rumbling and proud as he’d repeated his—but last night, I’d asked him what he would say on the fly.

  He’d answered, “I want to protect you. I want to spoil you. I want to have children with you and spoil them too. I want to grow old with you. And at the end of our lives, you will have no doubt you were loved and adored by me for every second.”

  Yep, I’d jumped him all the way up till midnight. . . .

  He put his arm around my shoulders, enveloping me with his heat and tantalizing scent. Together we watched our families celebrate.

  Among all the other things Dmitri had brought into my life, I’d gotten two new brothers and three sisters (with a long-suffering sigh, he’d finally claimed Jess as family). All of them were thrilled by this marriage.