His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

The bitch produces real tears. “I didn’t invent her. And I had to put her in an orphanage to save her life from him. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Get out.” She must see the murder on my face, because she stumbles back, into the hallway and I slam the door.

I stare at it for a moment, a buzzing in my ears.

My child in an orphanage? Could that be true?

No.

It’s definitely not true. This woman is a liar. A manipulator of the highest degree. She’s playing some new game now and it certainly involves Victor.

And the last thing I need right now is to be tangled up with a woman Victor’s put his claim on. I’m doing my best to get Alessia out of his crosshairs.

“Who was that?” Alessia demands from behind me. Her voice is cold.

Blyat.

Women.

Alessia

What, the ever-loving hell is going on?

Some leggy blonde shows up to our hotel room and Vlad is suddenly a different man. Angry. Enraged, even.

Clearly she’s his ex.

Clearly she still means something to him or he wouldn’t be so riled up.

He turns slowly and closes his eyes. “That was the woman who nearly got me killed. She’s a conniving bitch, that is all.”

“Obviously she means something to you or you wouldn’t be so upset.” I’m not feeling so calm and collected myself. I’m shaky and cold. My hands are clammy. My stomach is in knots.

“Nyet!” he explodes, proving my point. “She means nothing. If she were a man I would kill her for her trickery.”

He sucks in a deep breath, like he’s trying to get a hold of his temper.

“Is it true what she said? You have a child with her?” The woman said that much in English, obviously for me to hear.

I don’t know why that hurts me so much, but it does. It cuts right to the core. I guess because I can’t have babies. And maybe this afternoon I did conjure some stupid fantasy about Vlad and I adopting a child from that orphanage.

Vlad grinds his jaw. “No. She would say anything. I don’t believe her lies.”

My stomach twists even more. Something about this feels off. “But you don’t know for sure? Don’t you think you should find out? Get a paternity test or something?”

Vlad blinks at me. His usual blank expression is returning. “I don’t even believe there is a child,” he says. “Did you see a baby?” he waves his hand impatiently toward the door, but his brows are down, like he’s thinking.

Like he hadn’t before considered that it might be true.

But then a knock sounds on the door and Vlad answers to room service. He goes silent as we eat.

“Was she your girlfriend?” I can’t stop picking the scab.

“Not girlfriend,” he clips. “Just sex. Very short time. I didn’t know she belonged to a member of the brotherhood. We fucked all weekend. Then I didn’t see her for two months. I didn’t care. It was sex, nothing more. Then she shows up and says she’s pregnant and Zima will kill her and the baby when he finds out it’s mine.”

I set down my fork, horrified.

Vlad continues, “I said, how do you know it’s mine? She swore she knew, but I didn’t believe her. She was playing me. Asked me to kill Zima. I think maybe he was cruel to her—I don’t know. I refused. I gave her money, told her to run away if she’s not happy with him, but I wanted nothing to do with her.”

I sit staring at him, deeply unsettled. I’m definitely seeing two sides to this story. Yes, it does sound like this woman tried to use him to get away from a bad situation. And if she asked him to kill Zima, she is everything he says about her. But I also think Vlad had a responsibility if he fathered a child. And maybe he’s right. Maybe that was a lie.

He probably knows best.

But my friends back in college had a rule. Pay attention to how a guy talks about his ex, because that’s how he’s going to talk about you when it’s over. And the anger Vlad is showing disturbs me. He’s made comments before about women being conniving and manipulative.

I don’t want to get lumped into that group the day he decides I’m just like them.

“You don’t believe me,” he says flatly, then shakes his head and mutters something in Russian, getting up from the little table where we’re eating.

“What was that word?” I ask sharply.

“Women,” he snaps.

There it is.

Okay. He’s pissy. I’m not going to engage anymore. I’ll bring it up when he’s in a better mood.

I go into the bathroom and shut the door, then start the bathtub. I take my time soaking, giving him space. Taking my own.

Vlad

Mika comes in at nine, looking upset.

“What happened?” I ask.

He shakes his head, a little frown burrowed deep between his brows.