Page 46 of The Wrong Husband
“Play the damn game,” I mutter.
Viktor leans forward. “You’re rattled. That’s new.”
“Oh, he’s definitely off his game,” Brody says with a grin.
“You don’t strike me as the kind to let personal distractions in,” Viktor notes. “She must be something.”
I glare. “Stay in your lane.”
Brody laughs. “That’s basically a confession.”
I toss in more chips. “Enough talking. Play.”
Viktor raises an eyebrow. “When Connor’s curt, he’s hiding something.”
Toren chuckles. “Or someone.”
“You’ll crack eventually,” Brody murmurs.
“Put your chips where your mouths are,” I retort.
Sinclair lifts a brow. “Touchy tonight.”
“It’s refreshing,” Viktor adds. “The great Connor Davenport—undone by a woman.”
Brody leans back, satisfied. “Speaking of… Any word on Michael?”
He means Michael Sovrano, Sinclair’s brother-in-law. Michael’s wife Karma, suffered a massive heart attack during childbirth. We were all told she died as a result.
But rumors persist that Michael took her and the kids and moved back to Italy.
Sinclair calmly pushes his entire stack into the pot. “All in. Let’s see who’s bluffing.”
He avoided the question. Interesting. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on?
“All in.” Viktor meets the raise
Toren hesitates, then sets his jaw. “Screw it. I’m in.”
“Let’s go.” Brody’s grin widens.
I push my chips in. “Game on.” Then I lay down my hand.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Toren growls.
Sinclair curses aloud. Viktor shakes his head.
Brody lifts his glass. “Should’ve seen it coming.”
I rake the pot toward me with zero humility. “Next time, stay out of my personal life.”
Viktor chuckles. “The night’s still young.”
“Good.” Brody tips his glass. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
For a second, surrounded by my brother and friends, I feel almost content. Almost. I’ve always been the outsider—too sharp, too fast. School, university, research—never belonged.
Even in biochemistry, peers resented how quickly I cracked what they couldn’t. That’s what made the Secret Service so appealing. New names. New roles. Control.
