Page 61 of Vicious Little Games

My father shrugs. “The Russians could be easier to handle if Cole joined the family with a marriage.”

“Hell, no,” Cole huffs. “You keep that arranged marriage shit away from me.”

“Agreed!” Vanessa exclaims.

Daddy holds up his palms in surrender. “Fine. It was just a suggestion.”

“My son isn’t going to be married off to some crazy Russian bitch to help your business,” Vanessa thankfully tells my father. “So don’t even think about it.”

“Like I said, it was just a suggestion. Everyone calm the fuck down. I’ve just heard that Inessa is a very attractive girl.”

Cole chuckles. “That doesn’t mean I want to be tied down to her.”

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” I tell them, unable to stand there and listen to this conversation any longer. “Cole, don’t forget to tell them about your invite for tomorrow,” I say on the way up the stairs.

“What invite?” Vanessa asks.

“The old men, Lev and Ony, invited me to a midnight poker tournament.”

“You do remember what happened the last time you went to a poker tournament, right sweetie?”

“Yes, Mom. How could I forget? But unless Dante is planning on blowing up the bar, I think I will be safe.”

“No fireworks are on the schedule this week,” my father responds with a grin.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Cole says just as I raise my foot to start up the second flight of stairs. He wouldn’t dare. “Cass has felt sick since leaving the bar. Might be best to check her for poisoning.”

“Poisoning?” Dante exclaims. “Cass, get your ass back down here! Why didn’t either of you say something sooner?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to bed.”

“Her color did look a little off,” Vanessa chimes in.

“I’m fine!” I yell back.

“I’ll have Dr. Gates come to your room then.”

“It’s late and completely unnecessary!”

“The good doc won’t mind a late-night house call for Dante,” Vanessa shouts back. “And it’s better to be safe than sorry!”

I groan and continue the hike up to my room, more certain than ever that I’m going to fucking kill Cole.

“Hello again, Cassandra,” the middle-aged doctor says when she walks into my room half an hour later with my father hot on her heels. “It is a shame to have to see you again so soon. How is your ankle?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assure her.

“We think she could’ve been poisoned,” Daddy tells her. “I didn’t want to mention that on the phone. Should we take her straight to the hospital?”

“Let us have a moment alone so I can further evaluate the situation and we’ll see,” Dr. Gates says to him, herding him out the door in her navy-blue power suit. “Why don’t you wait in your office, and I’ll be down shortly?” I can’t believe it actually works when Daddy leaves, and she closes the door in his face.

Returning to my bedside with her tote bag, she sits down on the mattress and says, “So, Cassandra–”

“It’s just Cass,” I remind her.

“Right, Cass, you said you’ve thrown up since leaving the bar? How many times?” She doesn’t have a tablet or even pen and paper. I guess my father doesn’t like her to have any records of her visits.

“Just the once in the car.” She stares at me unblinking, waiting, as if she knows I’m lying. Shit. “And twice when I got up to my room.”

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