The Player (The Game Maker #3)(86)

Dmitri looked receptive, but I glared at my brother, and he shut up.

“Maksim came to me the next day,” Dmitri said, “to break the news that you were a con artist, from a family of them. I admitted I was running my own con. He believed you would end any relationship we might have once you found out. To him, my hopes seemed doomed. My family has not visited us or called you because none of them wanted to lie to you—or reveal my plot before I could confess it to you.”

“How did Lucía take the news?” She’d been targeted by a man who’d used con tricks.

“She was fearful I would lose you as well. She’s been giving me tips this month.”

I worried my bottom lip. “Why not wait longer? You told me you weren’t ready.”

“Your badger games accelerated my plans.” He raked his fingers through his hair, even more tension stealing over him. “I didn’t want you seducing other men! So I burned your marks. But investigating each one was time-consuming. Texting Nigel as his scorned wife was easy; discovering her private number in St. Barts was not.”

He’d investigated them all? I grasped for my sense of indignation. “Why let me agonize over asking you for money? You knew I considered fencing my ring.” The one still comfortably parked on my finger.

“And I was silently willing you to turn to me instead. You believe the ring is a symbol. When you decided to trust me, I had hope you were keeping me as well as the ring.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You were testing me? That’s why you reminded me I could walk with the money at any time.”

Nod. “I was certain of you from the beginning, but I wanted proof for anyone who might doubt your intentions toward me.”

“Like your family.”

Slow shake of his head. “Like you.”

I swallowed. “Would you ever have come clean about everything you did?”

Another step closer. When had he gotten within a few feet of me? “I told you I would reveal all my secrets once you revealed yours. Explaining what I’d done would have been a lot easier—after you disclosed what you and your family did for a living.”

Good point. Again.

“I never lied, Vika.”

The grifter in me had to applaud his smoothness; it could be argued I simply hadn’t been asking the right questions. I would try to now. “Is there anything else you haven’t told us that I would like to know? Are there any more secrets?”

“Da. Since I first learned your address, I’ve had one of my men watching over you. When I wasn’t.”

I knew it! I couldn’t decide what level of creepy that was.

“You are the most precious thing to me in the world; how could I not protect you?”

When he put it that way, creepy seemed a bit extreme.

“In fact, each of you had a detail until I was satisfied the cartel danger had passed completely.”

I gazed over all of my family, lingering on little Cash. Dmitri had safeguarded each of us when we’d needed it most.

As if he was already a member of our pack.

He parted his lips to say more, then hesitated.

I shook my head warningly. “Spit it out.”

“The cartel was embarrassed to have been swindled. They wanted to make an example of your father.”

My gaze shifted to my parents. Mom’s nails dug into Dad’s arm. How close she’d come to losing him . . . He covered her hand, expression grave.

My lips moved wordlessly. Instead of having this conversation, I could be putting flowers by a tombstone right now, sick with the knowledge of how much my Dad had been tortured.

That was the checkmate.

Dmitri turned to Karin. “You should know the father of your child spies on you. Every Tuesday and Friday when you take Cash to the park.”

Karin clutched her son closer, her face lighting up.

Dmitri added, “But also outside of the, uh, camera house.”

Her face fell. To Walker, it would look like she’d slept with tons of lechers.

We would deal with that in time.

Dmitri turned back to me. “Now you know everything. Vika, I have no secrets left.”

The anxiety I’d struggled with disappeared, because there was nothing left to ping my radar. He’d laid all his cards on the table.

My grift sense was finally at ease.

He took another step closer, his eyes solemn amber. “This past year was torture—I heard your voice and saw you, but I wasn’t able to talk to you or touch you. Every day I tormented myself wondering if you could love me back. Yet I would do it all over again.” His voice broke lower when he said, “Understand me, moya zhena, I would do the whole thirty-two years over again.”

My breath left me. The magnitude of what he was saying . . .

I glanced around. Gram and Al raised glasses in approval. Karin nodded emphatically. Benji gave me a thumbs-up, and Pete mouthed, Duh.

Mom and Dad held hands, looking so in love, a shining example that fairy tales did in fact exist. Well, when they were so perfectly matched. . . .

It fully sank in that Dmitri Sevastyan hadn’t just pulled a single con. He hadn’t merely utilized tricks of confidence artistry. Grifting was a life choice, and he’d lived it for a year, learning our lingo and our ways to become a master. An aristocrat grifter. The con who played cons.