Wreckless Intentions Page 4

  “The way the two of them can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, I give it six to eight weeks tops before she’s knocked up again,” Marie interjected dryly.

  My mouth dropped open in affront as the sound of chuckles echoed around the table.

  “In case you’ve gone blind, there is a child present,” I rebuked, giving her the evil eye.

  Marie burst into laughter; her cackles a bit heartier than necessary.

  I tried holding the withering look that I’d leveled at her—lips quivering as I struggled not to smile. Marie’s goofiness could be sometimes contagious.

  “Are you sure you’re up for going out tonight?” Lauren asked with doubtful eyes.

  Damn, did I look that bad?

  Granted, I hadn’t gone out much the past month, so there’d been no reason to go full glam. However, I had made an effort to stuff my ass into this floral dress today, detangled my hair, and put on lip gloss. I thought it was an improvement.

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to it, I’ll be just fine,” I assured her.

  The girls had made plans of going out tonight to a sushi restaurant in celebration of Roman. I made a mental note to make more of an effort, to perhaps put on some make-up or something.

  “Can I go?” asked, Autumn, face hopeful.

  “Sorry, penguin, it’s for grown-ups only,” I told her with an apologetic smile.

  “You want to leave me and your grandma all alone?” dad asked Autumn, wearing a wounded look.

  “No way!” she giggled, caught red-handed.

  Though Katherine still came by to help out with Roman, she wouldn’t be coming tonight. However, both dad and Lilly assured me they’d be here to look after their grandchildren. It would be the first time I’ve been away from my son since giving birth to him. I might be freaking out just a little bit.

  So, might his father. I thought humorously, amused over Garland’s complete adoration of his son.

  Not that I blame him, the kid is damned adorable. However, he would be unquestionably worried to have us both be away from Roman.

  Garland had made himself scarce for this evening as well, no doubt to give the in-laws space. It was probably weird for him to have them stay in his home. But, Garland was a good sport and would never complain about something he knew to be vital to me. I was lucky in many ways…and not so much in others.

  Four

  G A R L A N D

  “I trust you’ve brought your permission slip for tonight?” asked Viktor, smirking mockingly.

  Dickhead.

  I ignored him as we climbed out of the car, making our way up the stairs leading to the door of Marcel’s enormous mansion. Tonight, was Monte Carlo night, a monthly event hosted by Marcel and one in which high-stakes gambling served as flat-out robbery. The amounts of money thrown on the tables at these events were astounding. It’s been several months since I last attended, and on that occasion, I lost fifty-thousand on Black Jack.

  “This just gets better and better. Vidov showing up to lose is like a GoFundMe donation for the renovations on my Chalet,” Marcel said when he spotted us, sporting an alligator grin.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Girard, the last win was pure luck. Losing is nowhere in my DNA,” I boasted.

  I’d been unfocused and distracted the last game; my mind consumed with thoughts of Oleg. I wouldn’t be distracted tonight.

  “Put up or shut up,” challenged Marcel, nodding towards a poker table with five men already seated around it.

  We headed that way.

  There were six other gaming tables in play as well. Marcel went all out for Monte Carlo night; transforming his ballroom into a replica of the real deal. Full-sized gaming tables were spread throughout with hired professional Croupier’s dealing at each one of them. There was no shortage of opportunity to sink or swim. Whether your poison is poker, blackjack, baccarat or roulette, it was all here for the taking. Free cigars and a fully stocked bar ensured maximum playtime and money spent.

  “Most of you know Vidov and Viktor,” Marcel said to the other men, “And for the couple of you who don’t, it would behoove you to keep a keen eye on them both.”

  “The bloody Russian invasion, don’t the two of you have enough to worry about already with Donald Trump in office?” grumbled Wade, a British businessman I’ve known since my University days.

  “Afraid of some real competition, you bloody Englishman?” I taunted, taking the seat next to him.

  Wade is a good man, but also a hard gambler with a bit of a drinking problem. He would no doubt leave here shit-faced tonight, having lost a shit load of his inherited money.

  “Put your chips on the table, Vidov, and prepare to be humiliated,” he shot back.

  “Alright gentlemen, minimum betting starts at a thousand,” Marcel announced, before placing three of his thousand-dollar chips on the small blind.

  The man next to him placed five of his chips next; the rest of us followed suit, then waited for the Croupier to set the two hole-cards on the table in front of us.

  Bets were made, chips stacked, and more cards placed on the table. Black Jack was my game of choice, but poker was both fun and easy. I didn’t mind an easy win tonight.

  “Bloody hell,” Wade mumbled in disgust, looking at the two cards in his hand.

  When he reached to take one of the flop-cards off the table, I glanced over at him and lifted a mocking brow. Poker was all about the pretense of superiority, and of petty taunting.

  Marcel upped the ante, and another round of betting commenced. The process repeated several more times; amidst mumbled swearing and loud outbursts of English outrage. By the time the river-card was dealt, only Marcel and I remained.

  That wasn’t at all surprising. Wade rarely won for very long, Viktor sucked at cards, and the last of the other four men in the game had just folded.

  “Well, Vidov, what will it be, GoFundMe?” Marcel taunted across the table, holding his five cards spread out like a fan.

  I gave him my best poker face as I placed my final bet, silently challenging him to bring it.

  Marcel is the self-crowned King of poker, he always lined his pockets at the poker tables.

  Black Jack is my game, I rarely ever lost.

  This would be my revenge.

  “You’re up, Vidov, let us see what you’ve got,” Marcel said boredly, already counting his pot.

  I strategically hesitated, waiting before laying my hand on the table, the action reeking of defeat.

  Then, I smirked at Marcel across the table.

  Sitting next to me, Wade snorted; having seen my hand. “You Russians are okay with me,” he said on a drunken laugh, clapping me on the back.

  “More like cheaters,” Marcel grumbled sourly, reluctantly laying his hand on the table.

  He had a full house, I had four-of-a-kind.

  I won.

  Marcel might be the King of poker, but I was the King of numbers.

  “Maybe some other time on that GoFundMe offer, the wife will be able to buy a lot of shoes with seventy-five large.” I couldn’t resist fucking with him.

  “Ah, why didn’t you say so? Anything for Camry,” Marcel smirked.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  He laughed.

  Asshole.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket just as Marcel suggested another round. Reaching for it, I glanced at the screen then grinned like a wuss.

  “Say goodnight.” The text read.

  There was a picture of Autumn beaming into the camera as she sat on the bed with her brother in her lap. They were both dressed for bed, and someone had combed Roman’s hair up into a spiky mohawk.

  “Bloody cute kids,” Wade said next to me, breath reeking of alcohol.

  Typically, I would have a problem with him invading my personal space. But, what the hell? I felt in a generous mood tonight.

  “Thanks,” I responded, rising from my chair to go fawn over my kids in private. Walking over towards the bar, I texted Camry ba
ck.

  “Someone got a bit carried away with the hair gel?”

  * * *

  “Lol. I used baby lotion. Isn’t he adorable?”

  * * *

  “He takes after his father.”

  * * *

  “Yes, he does.”

  * * *

  “I thought you’d be gone by now?”

  * * *

  “I’m on my way out, wanted to get the kids to bed first.”

  * * *

  “Having separation anxiety?”

  * * *

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  “Go out, Camry, have a good time. It’ll do you some good to be out of the house.”

  * * *

  “I know. I’m going.”

  * * *

  “Kiss the kids goodnight for me. Love you.”

  * * *

  “Love you too.”

  “Did your permission slip expire already?” asked Viktor, walking up to stand next to me.

  “Fuck off,” I told him, sticking my phone back into my pocket.

  He laughed as he walked to the other end of the bar to place an order.

  Viktor never missed an opportunity to fuck with me over my marital bliss. Besides, I hardly needed a permission slip for tonight if my wife never even bothered asking where I was going. I didn’t know whether to be happy that she seemed to trust me implicitly, or worried that she maybe didn’t give a shit.

  “You intend to take your money and run?” Marcel asked from behind me.

  I grinned when I turned to face him. “I never run, I bow out gracefully.”

  “That’s what all cheaters say,” he grumbled.

  I couldn’t help chuckling at his dour expression. “Accept your defeat like a man, Girard, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

  The Frenchman hated losing.

  “You owe me a chance to redeem myself. But first, I have some information I think you’d be interested in.”

  I followed Marcel out of the room.

  C A M R Y

  “Here’s to Camry, for giving birth to the most beautiful boy in the world!” Anna sang in toast, wine glasses colliding to create tinkling music.

  Unfortunately, my glass was filled with only iced tea, as I was currently nursing and couldn’t consume the wine. I love plum wine.

  We were seated around the hibachi grill at the sushi restaurant, where our chef had even provided a little entertainment while grilling our meals just a short while ago. The Asian themed restaurant was done-up in all black lacquer, with beautiful decorative lighting, and was bisected at its center by a ridiculously large fish tank with exotic-looking fish in it. The place buzzed with atmosphere but was also overcrowded.

  “Does Garland pay establishments more money to allow his cute security guys the privilege of standing around like sentinels?” Anna asked, eyes focused on Stack.

  The bodyguard stood like a said sentinel with his back against the wall—adjacent to where we sat.

  Glancing a look over my shoulder, I spotted Joe off to our right; maybe fifteen feet away, also standing with his back to a wall. His gaze wasn’t focused our way, though; it was instead trained straight ahead towards an area I couldn’t see from where I sat.

  I had invited them to join us, they’d both promptly declined.

  “I don’t think so,” I told Anna, “I’m sure they announce their intention to management when they enter the building. You’ll note no one has approached them.”

  Actually, I’d never really paid it much attention. Maybe that was because whenever I ventured out to a restaurant, I was mostly with Garland. Security wasn’t so noticeable then. I suspect the guy’s instructions for tonight was to stick close; to make themselves seen.

  I sighed on the inside.

  I was used to the drill, as was Marie, but the others hadn’t gotten the memo. It was tedious always having to explain my entourage of bodyguards to unsuspecting people.

  “Is it weird, having them follow you wherever you go?” again from Anna.

  “It was at first, but I’ve grown used to it. Now, I sometimes forget the guys are there.”

  It’s true. But, I had to give the guy’s credit; being invisible in plain sight took skill.

  “Is remaining stone-faced part of their job requirement?” Lauren asked, eliciting chuckles from everyone.

  “I think it is,” I laughed. “Seriously, though, most of Garland’s security guys are either ex-military or law enforcement. So, I’m guessing the stone-face is ingrained in them.”

  “If they’re ex-military or law enforcement, I assume that to mean they couldn’t cut it in their fields. So, why would Garland hire them?” asked Lauren.

  I eyed her in surprise. For someone so logical and book-smart, she could be surprisingly dense at times.

  “Then, you assume wrong. Do you know how much money civil servants make?” I quizzed.

  For their service and sacrifice, it wasn’t nearly enough. On top of that, a majority of the men and women who served returned to civilian life with meager benefits and struggling to make ends meet.

  “Not that you can put a price on one’s safety, but personal security is a very lucrative field. My husband pays his men extremely well, probably four times what they’d make as civil servants—and undoubtedly with a lot less risk. Viktor recruits only the best, a few of the policemen were even still active duty when he recruited them.”

  I didn’t know the full story, but Viktor had been in law enforcement back in Russia. He’s a hard-ass and a stickler; the men he chose went through a rigorous process. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all over-qualified to be babysitting me.

  “So, I’m guessing that cutie was an ex-cop and Joe looks ex-military,” Anna stated, eyes on Stack.

  I smiled. Anna seemed to have a thing for Stack—she thought he looked like the character Jasper from that television show, The Royals.

  “Actually, both Stack and Joe are ex-military. Stack served in the Marines and Joe is a retired Navy Seal. Besides Viktor, Joe was Garland’s first bodyguard when he came to the country, Stack was his second. And the other men I couldn’t tell you a whole lot about because my husband only entrusts me with his top three,” I added ruefully.

  “Well then, I stand corrected. I feel a lot better knowing my sister and most adorable niece and nephew are being protected by qualified individuals,” Lauren said with a fake English accent. It was terrible but funny.

  “That just proves you don’t know your brother-in-law very well,” snorted Marie.

  I gave her an exasperated look, my eyes clearly communicating my thoughts.

  “All I’m saying is, Garland’s got his family well protected,” she rushed to say, face feigning innocence.

  “Yeah, but protected from what?” quizzed Lauren.

  Oh, God. Please don’t get her started.

  “Did you see Roman? That cutie needs at least four bodyguards alone,” Anna gushed.

  “Did you see Garland’s watch earlier? That requires another two bodyguards to protect, easily,” added Marie.

  I snorted a laugh. Leave it to Marie to say something ridiculous.

  But, it seemed to work. My sister started laughing and stopped asking questions.

  Thank God. I wasn’t up for a grilling from the counselor tonight.

  “You’re all set ladies, your bill has been taken care of,” our server, Jolene, informed us when she returned to our table.

  “Oh, um, by whom?” I asked, sure she was mistaken.

  Dinner was on me tonight, and I hadn’t yet paid.

  “Uh…” Jolene paused, glancing down at the black leather folder in her hand, “By a Mister Petroff, he sends his regards,” she concluded with a mega-watt smile.

  I stared at her dumbly.

  I must have stared long enough that her wattage started to dim and a look of uncertainty marked her face.

  “Mister, uh…Vlad Petroff?” she qualified as a question, glancing back down at the bill.

&nbs
p; My eyes widened with recognition. Vlad. The man with the thick Russian accent from the New Year’s Eve party.

  “Oh, wow, is he still here?” I stammered, completely thrown off balance.

  Okay, so that was weird.

  “I believe he’s sitting over on the other side, near the door,” answered Jolene, nodding her head in that general direction.

  “Okay, thanks,” I told her distractedly.

  Jolene wished us goodnight and hurried off.

  “Who is Vlad?” asked Lauren.

  “Someone Garland knows, I met him recently at a New Year’s Eve party; Marie was there,” I told her.

  “Oh yeah, I remember!” Marie exclaimed with a snap of her fingers, “The blonde Russian dude who sounded like Dracula.”

  I nodded my agreement, smiling over her Dracula comment. It seemed a strange gesture; I didn’t get the impression he and Garland were all that friendly.

  After gathering our things, we headed towards the door with Joe taking the lead and Stack taking up our rear. I kept my eyes peeled for Vlad as we walked, skin prickling with a strange sense of unease.

  Why on earth did he pay our bill? It felt strange, made me uncomfortable.

  Vlad and I spotted each other at the same time. My eyes met his, and I instantly hated that etiquette dictated I thanked the man in person.

  He rose from his chair as we approach his table, he sat with two other men and two women. I recognized Short from the party as one of those men.