“Everything,” I reply honestly. “Tell me where you grew up. Do you get along with your parents? What do you do for work? What do you do for fun?”
“Whoa there,” she holds up her hands, but she’s still grinning. “That’s a boatload of questions. I grew up in London. My dad played for Arsenal for a few years. My mom was the coach’s daughter.”
“What do you do for work?”
“I’m a PR rep,” she answers. “I represent Brazilian and Portuguese soccer players. My firm finds them endorsement deals in North America, and I work with them because I speak both soccer and Portuguese.”
I grin. She’s funny. “Did you move to New York for work?”
She nods. “In London, everyone only knew me as my father’s daughter. I just wanted to make it on my own.”
That sentiment, I can understand. It also explains why she hasn’t asked her parents for money to pay off Sammy. Gabby’s got an independent streak. I like it. “And for fun?”
She rolls her eyes at my questioning. “You already know about the poker,” she answers. “Apart from that, not much really. I have a set of friends I hang out with every week.” A fond expression fills her face. “They’re a great group of women. What else do you want to know?”
“Do you get along with your parents?”
“Absolutely,” she says instantly. “My parents are great. Well, they’re great, except for the fact that they think I should get married and give them grandbabies.”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
She shrugs, and she wraps her arms around herself again. “I don’t have the best history with men,” she replies finally. “Love, relationships, romance, marriage - these things aren’t exactly a priority anymore.”
I’m often accused of being direct. You have the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, Chloe used to complain. It’s a reputation I come by honestly. “Will your parents object to you dating two guys?” I ask bluntly. I want Gabby. I don’t want this to become a problem.
She gives me a startled look, her eyes wide in her face. “Dominic,” she mutters, “I think we are getting ahead of ourselves.”
“No.” We’ve tiptoed around the issue long enough. “If you don’t want to date us, Gabby, all you have to do is say so, and we’ll both back off. But if this is because of your bullshit theory about your effect on men, then we are going to prove you wrong. We aren’t going to cheat on you, and you can trust us with your life. Whatever it takes to show you that, I’m in.”
“What are you doing, Dominic?” The skirt of her green dress is bunched up in her fist, and she eyes the fabric as if it holds the secrets of the universe in their threads. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know how to trust my instincts,” I respond, my voice hard. “Do you?”
She doesn’t reply.
9
Gabriella:
When Carter shows up after lunch, his face is bleak. “No luck?” Dominic asks, his voice rich with concern.
Carter shakes his head. “None at all,” he exhales. He paces to and fro in the living area of the suite that Dominic has set me up in. A suite that has three bedrooms, for heaven’s sake. Still, I’m not complaining too much. The master bathroom had a Jacuzzi and I’m looking forward to soaking in it. It’s large enough for the three of us, in fact. Hmm.
“Fucking Wagner,” he swears. “He’s good at hiding,” he adds as an explanation to me. “He used to sell fake IDs to teenagers for a while, so he can craft himself a new identity. He can’t stay concealed forever, but each day Noah spends with him, it makes me so afraid…” His voice trails off and he resumes pacing.
I get up and go to him, putting my arms around his waist and drawing him close. “Carter,” I try to calm him, “Ed seemed clean yesterday. You said he wasn’t using, right?”
Dominic’s stretched out on a leather recliner. His eyes follow us but he doesn’t interrupt.
Carter shakes his head. “As best I know, no. He’s clean. ”
“And do you think Noah’s in danger?”
“No,” he says reluctantly. “I can’t stand Wagner’s guts, but when he’s clean, he’s not a horrible person.”
* * *
There’s a small smile on Dominic’s face, but I ignore him. Our conversation earlier has made me skittish. I don’t want to hear how Dominic can’t stop thinking about me, because the instant I start believing it, things will change. Dominic will morph into a jerk and he will hurt me. As will Carter. That’s my superpower, and it’s not a good one.
Yet Dominic’s words play through my head, and a thrill passes through me each time I remember them. The questions he’s asked terrify me. Did I get along with my parents? Would they be okay with their daughter in such an unconventional relationship?
These are the kinds of questions that somebody who was serious about me would ask. None of my boyfriends in Manhattan have ever wondered about my family, short of noting that I was ‘exotic’. None of them have demonstrated a desire to be involved with me.
If I could isolate the stupid, hopeful part of my brain that thinks that maybe these are the guys who will be the ones who are honest with me, I’d have it surgically removed.
Two simple questions, and I’m thrown into a tailspin. Damn it. My heart’s been through the wringer, time and time again. I don’t want to be vulnerable. Each time I heal from a betrayal, I feel more brittle, more damaged. Less trusting. I need to keep aloof to survive.
This thing between us, it’s just sex, I tell myself, because I cannot allow myself to believe that it is more. We are all under a lot of stress, and these heightened emotions are the natural result. Nothing can come of this.
So to ward off my concerns, to pretend to myself that my heart doesn’t flutter each time they gaze into my eyes, I initiate sex. When Carter kisses each finger of my hand slowly, I assure myself that there’s no impact. When Dominic kneels in front of me and peels down my skirt and then my panties, I tell myself that I feel nothing, even as his fingers and mouth pay homage to each inch of revealed skin. They are just really good at arousing me, I promise myself, as I run my fingers through Dominic’s hair and pull his face closer to my pussy.
Just sex.
But I’m lying to myself. The heightened emotions might be a result of the turmoil we are all in, but I still feel them. My voice screams out Dominic’s name as he makes me come. I moan pleas to Carter as his fingers circle my asshole, lubricating it for his cock.
Dominic urges me onto his lap and I lower myself onto his hard steel. His eyes are hazy with lust; his lips moan my name. Carter carefully positions himself at my anus, and my tight bud yields to his gentle push. When we rock against each other, three people becoming one, our need twining us together and holding us tight, I remind myself that this is a temporary fling, nothing more. Soon, I’ll find Noah, and I’ll have enough money to pay off Sammy, and I can get back to my life in Manhattan.
My lonely life, where I play poker to distract myself from the emptiness within.
When my body convulses in pleasure, when I gasp out their names and cling to them, I know I’m a fool. After just one night five months ago, when we were strangers to each other, they’d taken up residence in my dreams and refused to leave. Now that I know them more? Now that I have seen the depths of love in Carter’s tortured eyes when he talks about Noah, now that I’ve heard the open vulnerability in Dominic’s voice as he tells me he can’t stop thinking about me?
Walking away at the end of this isn’t going to be easy at all.
10
Carter:
Dominic receives a phone call at six. Gabby still hasn’t heard from Bulldog, and she’s getting twitchy. As am I.
Bulldog’s an unreasonable son of a bitch, and he hates Dominic’s guts. Things would have been so much easier had I just been able to call him up and ask for his help locating Ed Wagner. But as much as I’d like to think that even Bulldog wouldn't want to endanger a child, I’m not naive. He won’t move op
enly against us, but helping me is out of the question. There’s too much history there, and too much hate.
Same thing with Ed. He’d been there the night Chloe overdosed. I’m never going to be able to forgive him for that. I’m never going to be able to get over the fact that had Ed not supplied Chloe with the drugs she’d taken, she’d still be alive. Now, I feel the same sense of helplessness that I did in the first few months after her death.
Should I have taken a harder line with Chloe? Should I have checked her into a rehab facility against her will? Should I have threatened to take Noah away from her, though she was a good mother who deeply loved her child? These regrets have haunted me since the day she died.
Then, Gabby gets up to go pour herself a cup of tea, and as I look at her beautiful warm brown eyes, the pit in my stomach vanishes. She’s here, and she’s helping, and even though her own body is tight with tension, just being around her soothes and calms me.
Five months ago, we should have never let Gabby go. Touching her, making love to her over the last day and a half has just reinforced what my heart knew right from the instant I’d set eyes on her. I’m not going to let myself be haunted again by thoughts of things I should have done, words I should have said. Gabby left us once. This time, I owe it to myself to tell her that I don’t want her to go. I want her to stay and I want to get to know her. I can’t stop thinking about the fire in her eyes or the softness of her touch.
This time, I will lay my cards out on the table. I think I’m falling in love with her, even though I’ve only really known her for twenty-four hours.
But first, we need to find Noah.
* * *
Dominic listens in silence to the person at the other end of the line. “Okay,” he says into the receiver. “Let’s grab dinner and discuss this. See you in a few minutes?” He hangs up and looks at the two of us. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’ve got an urgent situation to deal with.” He takes Gabby’s hand in his and kisses her palm. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“I am capable of taking care of myself,” she says, with her customary sass. “Besides, isn’t Carter going to be right here?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I agree. “Shall we go out for dinner, Gabby?” I’m deliberately needling Dominic. He had all morning with Gabby, and I’m not above admitting I’m a little jealous.
She rolls her eyes at me. She’s smart, and she knows exactly what’s going on. “Every girl’s childhood dream,” she mutters under her breath. “Two hot guys fighting over her.”
“You think I’m hot?” I smirk. In response, she throws a cushion on the couch at me, one I snatch effortlessly out of the air. “Go,” I tell Dominic. “We’ll be fine.”
His eyes are amused, but that hard edge that usually accompanies it is gone. Gabby’s good for both of us. In just a few hours, she’s drawn both Dominic and me out of the protective shells we’d retreated into when Chloe died. She’s making us feel alive.
When he’s gone, I turn to Gabby. There’s something I want to talk to her about. “Dominic told me that someone scammed you at the poker game in New York.”
“Dominic talks too much,” she grumbles.
I sit next to her on the couch. “Why don’t you want us to help you?” I ask her softly. “You are helping us find Noah. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you in return.”
Her expression turns bleak, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t like depending on people, Carter,” she replies, her voice muffled against my chest. “In London, I was always in my father’s shadow. Whatever I did, no matter how hard I worked, people assumed that any success I achieved was because of who my dad was. Either that, or they just outright dismissed me as a spoiled rich girl.”
I run my hand up and down her back, soothing, steadying strokes that communicate that I’ve got her. She might not want to depend on us, and she might even believe we’d betray her trust. But none of this is true. I would walk through fire for her, and not just because of her help with Noah. “Everyone can use a helping hand sometimes,” I correct her.
“It’s not for the right reasons.” She isn’t looking at me. “You are feeling grateful, but you don’t need to help. Dominic’s paying Sammy off. That was the deal, right? You don’t need to do more.”
I frown at her. “This isn’t because of the deal.” I put my finger on her chin, lifting her head up so she’s looking at me. “I’m helping because I want to.”
She still won’t look at my face. “This thing isn’t real,” she mutters.
“What thing?”
“This weird attraction between the three of us. It isn’t real. Everything’s just amplified because of the pressure of the situation.” She sounds frustrated. “I told Dominic that. Why won’t the two of you listen to me?”
“Because you’re wrong.” Okay, that’s not the most diplomatic answer in the world, but she’s so wrong. “Is it because of Noah that I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night at the Plaza? For the last five months, every woman I meet is measured against my memory of you. Is that because I’m grateful?”
She tenses against me, but I’m on a roll.
“I know you don’t want to believe me,” I say into her hair, which smells like mint and warm summer. “I know that we will have to earn your trust. I understand this, and I’m okay with it, but don’t let past fears tarnish what we have, Gabby. Judge us for our actions, not for the actions of the assholes you dated before.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she gives me a small nod. “I’ll try,” she whispers.
Well, it’s a start. I turn the conversation back to her poker loss in New York. “The money you lost, when did it happen?”
“Saturday night,” she says, her voice reluctant.
“Was it just regulars who were there? Did you get a suspicious vibe off anyone?”
She sits up and wrinkles her forehead, her fingers playing absently with a lock of her hair. “The dealer at my table was acting odd that night,” she reveals. “He’s normally very chatty, very friendly, but that night, he seemed really subdued.”
“And your fellow players?” I quiz her.
“There were two that didn’t quite fit in,” she muses. “Sammy’s halls are usually filled with young guys. You know, the kind that watch World Series of Poker and think they are going to make their fortune playing cards.”
I nod. We are the peddlers of dreams in the gambling business. We help people escape the monotony of their lives for a few hours.
“But the big winners were a couple in their late thirties. I’ve never seen them before. They looked like tourists.”
“Tourists?” I ask sharply. “How did they find Sammy’s tables? You have to know someone on the inside to find the games, right?”
She frowns. “That whole night was so strange,” she says. “I wasn’t the only one playing recklessly. Everyone seemed off their game somehow.” She shakes her head. “It all seems so hazy. All I know is that I lost an absolutely inconceivable amount of money, and when I woke up the next morning, I had the worst hangover in the world. Even though I’d only had one drink.”
I’ve seen her in action; she can hold her liquor. My intuition tells me that she’d been drugged on Saturday. Most people have heard of roofies, but there’s an absolute flood of designer drugs on the market and a few of them work by lowering your inhibitions the same way that alcohol does. If Gabby had been drugged that night, it would explain her uncharacteristic losses.
“I’m going to make some calls,” I tell her.
“I don’t want to piss off Sammy, Carter,” she warns me. “He has enforcers, and I’m not interested in making waves. I don’t want my kneecaps busted.”
Her statement confirms my hunch. She’s spirited, but she’s not reckless. She knows how to weigh the consequences of her actions before she jumps in. Something made her lose that money. Something or someone, and I’m going to find out
who was responsible.
“I promise you, your kneecaps are safe,” I say, drawing her into my arms and kissing the top of her head. The thought of her being hurt in any way brings out my protective side. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. All I’m going to do is investigate a little bit. Call some friends, try to see what the word on the street is.”
Try to see if a new designer drug has made its way onto the open market.
“Okay,” she concedes. “But if I end up in a wheelchair, I’m going to get one of the electric ones, and I’m going to run over your leg with it.”
I laugh. She’s adorable when she’s feisty. “Fair enough, Gabby,” I smile at her. “Now, can I interest you in dinner?”
“Chinese?” she asks. “Bulldog’s game yesterday was behind a Chinese restaurant, and it’s given me a terrible craving for kung pao chicken and fried rice.”
11
Gabriella:
Okay, I confess. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that Carter and Dominic are watching out for me. Carter’s questions about Sammy and the night of the big poker loss should irritate me, but I just feel protected and safe.
This is bad. I’m a gambler, sure, but even for me the idea of trusting two men, men I barely know, feels risky and reckless.
I haven’t brought anything formal to wear with me, but I do the best I can, pulling out a turquoise silk blouse and my most flattering pair of jeans and taking special care with my makeup. Carter’s eyes heat up when he sees me, and he growls in his throat. “I’m tempted to rip your clothes off and feast on you,” he says.
“What about Dominic?” I ask, then immediately regret it. I don’t know what the expectations of a threesome are, but asking Carter what the rules are makes this a more serious conversation than I’m prepared to have. Whether I have the money for Sammy or not, I have to leave Atlantic City at the end of the week. What’s the point of wondering whether Carter will consider it cheating if I have sex with Dominic when he’s not around, or vice versa?
Gambling with Gabriella (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 2) Page 6
