The Player (The Game Maker #3)(80)

“There’s more,” Karin said. “A couple of weeks back, I was talking to Giovanni, the Caly concierge. He said Sevastyan was at the casino about a year ago.”

“Dmitri told me about that trip.” When he’d made the decision to turn his life around then.

Karin said, “I used some juice to order security footage of his visit. We got it two days ago.” She’d waited for me to reach Vegas before she would risk communicating with me on a potentially hot phone.

My anxiety multiplied. Here comes the other shoe. “And?”

“Sevastyan sees you. He followed you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If he saw me and was interested, why not approach me? He’s a gorgeous billionaire.”

“He wasn’t so hot back then,” Pete said. “He was much thinner and looked strung out. Pretty sure he was a drug addict. And he’d been drinking like he was trying to kill himself.”

He kind of had been. But that was before he’d started to work out and eat right. Before he’d kicked those pills. “Still, I would’ve given him the freaking time of day.”

“No, Vice, you wouldn’t have,” Karin said. “Because you were at your bachelorette party.”

“What are you saying?”

Pete laid on the horn. “He got rid of your fiancé that week.”

My mind zoomed back to the night I’d caught Brett. Yes, I’d marveled at how off-the-charts hot that woman had been.

The showgirl who’d somehow found her way to our party. To Brett.

Oh, my God. “My grift sense said it was a badger game! I just suspected you guys of pulling it—to get the gull out of my life.”

“Not us,” Karin said. “Sevastyan must’ve hooked up with a private investigator in Vegas and put a temptation scenario into motion.”

I had no urge to get back together with Brett or anything, but could any man have withstood that kind of lure? Fifteen minutes ago, I would’ve bet my life on Dmitri. Now I didn’t even know him.

He’d set me up for devastation, ensuring I found my fiancé with another woman. The success of his scheme had depended on my pain.

“We’ve started digging with detective agencies,” Pete said. “We’ll know more soon enough.” He craned his head, looking for a way to reverse.

I’d love one too—a way to reverse the last month of my life. I’d known something was off, had felt it down to my bones! “You guys think Dmitri’s been spying on me for a year?”

“Yeah, sis.” Benji’s solemn eyes made mine water. “I’d bet ten large he was.”

That manipulative stalker!

Movement near the hotel entry drew my attention. Speak of the devil.

Dmitri’s head jerked in all directions as he searched for me. His frantic gaze darted.

Karin mumbled, “Shit. He’s already down here.”

He caught sight of us and charged forward, his long strides eating up the pavement.

Pete locked the doors.

Dmitri reached the car, pulling the door handle. Masking his panic, he bit out, “Open this for me, love.”

I shook my head.

In a roughened voice, he asked, “What’s happened?”

“Don’t you already know?” I held up my phone.

His eyes widened. “Let me explain, Vika!”

Explain what? He’d played with my life. He’d played with me. I understood the irony, could see the parallels. But short of impending murder, I’d never targeted a decent person.

Why had he targeted me? Tears welled.

“Just talk to me.” He sounded so agonized, and even now it gutted me. “Please don’t cry, moya zhena.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

Each one maddened him more. “Open this door!” He pounded a fist on the roof of the car.

Karin jumped. Pete snapped, “For f*ck’s sake.”

Dmitri was just getting started. “Goddamn it, let me . . . get to you!” His accent was the thickest I’d ever heard it. “Just give me a chance to explain.” Another pounding hit to the roof. A month ago, he’d warned Pete, “Do not ever get between me and her. You do not want to do that.” This car was between Dmitri and his wife.

I could only stare and cry. Karin reached back to take my hand. An infusion of strength.

He stabbed his fingers through his unruly hair. “I can make this right! Vika, love, I can.” He looked crazed, as if he was barely holding it together. Like how I felt.

I spotted his bodyguards at the entrance, “buffering” against Calydon security.

I murmured, “Did you set Brett up?” But Dmitri must’ve heard.

He bellowed with frustration and yanked the car handle so hard I thought it would break.

I had my answer. A sob broke free. But I wanted to hear him say it. “Did you set him up?”

Dmitri swallowed, growing still. “Yes.”

I battled a wave of nausea. The anxiety I’d grappled with had never been about fate or luck or a too-perfect husband. I’d subconsciously picked up clues from his behavior and sensed my own impending doom. I’d been tied across the railroad tracks, perceiving the vibrations of an oncoming locomotive.

“I can’t even look at you!”