The Player (The Game Maker #3) - Kresley Cole Page 0,4
like to lock anything with you.”
He was serious, but I caught myself fighting a grin. “Locking horns can be very meaningful, Mr. Sevastyan, and we’ve only just met.”
One corner of his lips quirked. “Call me Dmitri. Or Dima.” He stood between me and the stairs.
“You’ve been bellowing at women all night, yet you’re preventing me from leaving? I don’t know whether to be flattered or alarmed.”
“You heard that?” Another flush over those cheekbones.
“I was out on the terrace. I remarked that you were like a beast from a fairy tale, alone in his lair.”
Holding my gaze, he said, “I’ve found Beauty.”
My toes curled. I’d been prepared for anger and blustering, not charm. My eyes dipped to his full bottom lip. I had the urge to suck on it.
Though I’d had every intention of doing the deed with someone since my ex, no guy had tempted me enough. What would it be like to kiss this Russian? To sleep with him?
“I won’t prevent you from leaving,” he said, “but I invite you to stay.” His hair was close-cut at the sides, yet longer on top. A breeze tousled those thick locks.
“How do I know you won’t lose your temper again, Dmitri?”
His lids grew heavy—as if he enjoyed the way I said his name. “I believe I can behave, if motivated by a sweet enough treat.”
“You believe? You don’t know?”
“This is foreign territory for me. But I like my new guide very much.”
Did he, then? My good-girl disguise was paying off! What if I pulled my first ever milk-cow—with a billionaire? That would show everyone! And more importantly . . .
That would save everyone.
The con was on. “Perhaps you’re using me to keep other women away.”
“Perhaps I drove the others away so you would appear in front of me.”
I tilted my head at him. “You could be using me to make someone else jealous.” Which would explain a lot of this unexpected attention.
“Twice you’ve accused me of using you. Are you using me?”
Clever man. I’d have to be careful with this one. “I came up to check out the view. You’re the tourist chatting up the local girl.” In the timeline of a con, we’d just had “the meet.”
I glanced over my shoulder, wishing Pete could see this. Dmitri’s got a little change in his pocket goin’ jingle lingle ling! I would so fake-flirt with this Russian, in order to manipulate him into fake near-sex situations.
I would be perfect for a milk-cow, because I didn’t lose control sexually, even when I was supposed to.
“Do you want to get back to someone?” Dmitri asked. “Are you here with another man?”
Surely I misheard the jealousy in his tone. “Your VIP host invited me. Peter Valentine’s my cousin.”
“Ah, yes. He helped smooth over the near arrest of my sister-in-law’s friend.”
Jessica, the tagalong, was best friends with Natalie Sevastyan, the PhD redhead.
We’d been stoked about Jessica’s trouble with the law, thinking dirt! But Pete had heard the woman begging for a “pic with the po-po.” For her blog. “You guys must’ve been having a ton of fun for the LVPD to step in.” The five-o seemed to have given up on my family and our KAs.
“Jessica attracts trouble wherever she goes.” Sounding mystified, Dmitri said, “And yet she is invited everywhere with the group.”
“I think she’s funny. As I passed her downstairs, she was wondering aloud if a local plant-eater would be a ‘vegan Las Vegan.’ Then she did a spot-on Lady Gaga impression.”
“Funny?” Dmitri seemed to be processing this information.
“Yep.” Pete had told me he’d walked in on Jessica in the men’s bathroom, voguing and primping her hair. Upon seeing him, she’d lifted a leg and plopped her heel on the counter to vogue her junk. “My bush stylist talked me into this natural look,” she’d told him, “but I’m not convinced. What say you, Peter Pumpkin Eater?” And she thought he was straight.
Dmitri gave a curt nod. “Jessica is around your age. You would want to socialize with her. I will take you inside.”
“Wait, I don’t want to intrude.” He sounded as if he wanted to formally introduce me. “Pete said you’re here to celebrate something.” I worried my bottom lip.
His eyes clocked the little movement. “Da. Natalie, my oldest brother’s wife, completed her doctorate. And my middle brother and his wife just had their four-year anniversary.” Maksimilian, the retired politician, and his hot Latina heiress, Lucía.
Pete had learned the pair owned half of Miami and were refurbishing it while they acquired the other