The Player
Page 82
Or that his obsession would fade.
“Then wouldn’t we have had everything in common?” he asked. “I also used what I’d learned to please you. You talked about California. I bought you a large part of it. You imagined travel. I have planned dozens of trips for you. You dreamed of designing clothes . . .”
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.
“Then wouldn’t we have had everything in common?” he asked. “I also used what I’d learned to please you. You talked about California. I bought you a large part of it. You imagined travel. I have planned dozens of trips for you. You dreamed of designing clothes . . .”
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.
