The Player (The Game Maker #3) - Kresley Cole Page 0,7

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

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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 going on?”

Natalie recovered first.

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