Boston Avant-Garde: Impetuous (21 page)

Desiree didn’t care. She recognized the expression for what it was. This was the face he showed the world when he had to be the biggest badass on the block. It wasn’t the face he wore in the bedroom. It wasn’t the expression of the man who touched her with such gentleness. And right now that was perfectly okay. She needed the badass.

Behind her, Jackson made a strangled noise of outrage.

Nicolai moved to stand between her and everyone else. “Are you all right?” He tilted his head just enough to see her over his shoulder.

She gave a brief nod. His words had been pitched for her ears only. Until he said otherwise, she was keeping quiet. She didn’t know how he’d come to be on Asylum’s Level Four, and she wasn’t about to do anything to screw it up.

“This is bullshit, Dante! I want her, and I’ll pay whatever it costs to have the bitch.”

Jackson’s singled-minded pursuit might have been flattering had it not carried a whiff of the slightly psychotic. She edged closer to Nicolai’s back. It was starting to look as if Jackson was gearing up for a tantrum.

Being back inside Asylum was almost surrealistic. The sound of slot machines jangled in the background, laced here and there by the shouts and groans from the baccarat and roulette tables. The faint scent of spices from the kitchen mingled with the odor of money being well spent. Nicolai’s stomach was in knots, his psyche reliving every moment of his last visit to this hellhole. He’d have never come back—never—but he had an all-consuming need to make things right with Desiree.

Dante was having an intense conversation with the man who had tried to claim Desiree. Watching that whole process unfold without stepping in and staking his
own
claim had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed. His muscles were just starting to relax.

She’d chosen him. Again.

The thought filled him with the utterly male desire to mark her as his. They were stuck at Asylum for the rest of the night. He might as well make good use of the amenities to show Desiree over and over again that he wholeheartedly endorsed her choice.

He could smell her there beside him, the light feminine fragrance that sent a jolt right to his groin. The only thing more intoxicating was the scent of their lovemaking. His cock stiffened, pushing against the fly of his jeans. When was Dante going to shut this little prick up and let everyone move on?

The other patrons had already lost interest in the drama. They began to disperse, regrouping to continue their night’s revelry. Dante was still dealing with Desiree’s errant admirer. Nicolai kept one eye on them, but his thoughts were focused on the sexy woman by his side.

“Your odds aren’t good if you issue a challenge, Jackson.” Dante’s face grew harsh. “I suggest you drop it.”

Jackson? As in Jackson Wilhelm, the sleazebag groom-to-be? Nicolai leaned down so he could whisper in Desiree’s ear. “Is this asshole your sister’s fiancé?”

“In all his splendor. Please don’t go over there and do something rash. He’s not worth the trouble.”

The hurt was there beneath the nonchalance, and he wanted to make it right. “I was wrong, you know.”

“I’m sorry, are you actually admitting that you’re overprotective?”

“Wild girl, you could take that man in one round with a hand tied behind your back.” Her giggle warmed his heart. “You don’t need me to fight your battles.”

“I needed you tonight.”

He lifted her chin with his thumb so he could meet her bright green gaze. “I hope you need me just as much as I need you, but you didn’t
need
me to bail you out. You were doing just fine on your own. You’d have figured a way out. I’m just glad you chose me.”

“How did you know where to find this place? How’d you even know I was here?”

He took a breath to answer and was cut off by Jackson’s hand on his arm. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this means nothing. Tonight might be yours, but I’ll have her a dozen times by the end of the week.”

Desiree stepped away from Nicolai’s side to meet Jackson head-on. “In your dreams, you arrogant prick. By the time you move in, I’ll have moved out. Have fun dealing with Selena’s constant bitching. You deserve it.”

“Moving out doesn’t mean shit. Unless you’re planning to avoid every family function, event, or moment from now until eternity, I’ll show you exactly what’s in my dreams.”

To her credit, Desiree didn’t back down or show fear, but Nicolai could sense her alarm. He was still trying to define that line between protective and overprotective, but he wasn’t about to let this asshole use some pathetic intimidation tactics on her right under his nose. She hadn’t done a damn thing but say no. That was no reason for her to have to deal with Jackson’s unwanted advances.

Nicolai pinned Jackson with the gaze he saved for rich assholes who came into his bar. “I suggest you find someone else to harass. House rules don’t allow you to run your mouth any more than they allow me to put my foot in your ass to shut you up.”

“Dante!” Jackson’s voice carried over the low hum of conversation and brought the club owner back in their direction. “I want to issue a challenge.”

The club owner clasped his hands before himself in a neutral stance. “I’m listening.”

Apprehension swelled inside Nicolai’s gut. Dante’s rules allowed a man to issue a challenge when he wanted to take a partner claimed by someone else. Had they been about to step into a boxing ring, Nicolai would have been calm, but disagreements at Asylum were solved with games of chance.

Ten years was a long time, but addiction was a disease without a cure. He considered the wild girl standing by his side. She’d believed in him from the start, as if his past were a hurdle that had only served to make him stronger. He hoped she was right.

“Jackson wants to challenge you, Nicolai. Are you willing?” Dante was giving him the option to walk away, but that would mean walking away from Desiree, and there was no way Nicolai would do that.

Nicolai indicated Jackson with a nod of his head. “If this asshole wants satisfaction, I’m willing to give it to him.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “You know the rules better than anyone else, Nicolai.”

“I do.”

“He challenged you, so the rest is your choice. Game?”

“Blackjack.”

“Terms?”

Beside him, Desiree had gone still as death. A niggling doubt wondered if this little stunt would cost him her good opinion, but now was not the time to lose faith. If he handled this just right, he might be able to shut down Jackson’s big mouth for good. “One deck, one hand, house rules, no splits, no insurance, winner takes all.”

A tall, dark-haired man approached from the direction of the stairs. Nicolai recognized Jericho Davies, Dante’s head of security. Jericho had two contracts in hand—standard house procedure for situations just like this. Nicolai swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry. “I have an addendum to the terms, if he’s willing.”

“I’m listening.” Dante took the contracts from Jericho.

It was now or never. “I don’t want his money. If I win, he has to agree to leave Desiree alone for good. No cheap pick-up lines, no groping, no insinuations, no harassment.”

Dante’s gaze shifted to Jackson. “Do you agree to those terms?”

Jackson was busy reading over his contract. Nicolai already knew what was on the table. It might have felt as if history was repeating itself, but he was not the same man he’d been ten years ago. And the woman at his side wasn’t Katie. Desiree was worth everything he stood to lose and more.

The satisfaction on Jackson’s face tempted Nicolai to break the rules and knock him ass over teakettle. “If I win, Desiree spends tonight with me, in my bed.”

Desiree’s nails dug into Nicolai’s bicep until he was sure she’d removed skin. He placed his hand over hers in an attempt to soothe. “That doesn’t guarantee her submission.”

“Whether she submits or not, if I win you’ll be running that bar for me instead of yourself.”

Tension tied Nicolai’s spine in knots. Beside him, Desiree stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “What is he talking about?”

“Level Four is strictly high rollers, wild girl. They don’t let you up here unless you can play with the big boys.”

“So you put up the bar?”

Nicolai took her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “Everything is going to work out. I promise.”

He’d picked blackjack for several reasons. They were sound and sane, but he was feeling shaky over the prospect of losing. It wasn’t the sort of game a guy like Jackson was likely to play on a regular basis. Nicolai had played plenty of twenty-one back in the day, mostly because it didn’t require much to buy in, and the odds weren’t dependent upon the variables brought to the table by other players. It hadn’t been his game of choice. He’d spent most of his time playing seven-card stud poker, but he wasn’t in any hurry to find himself in a game like the one he’d lost ten years ago.

She wrapped her arms around his body and laid her cheek against his chest. “Don’t do this, Nicolai. I’m the one who got into this mess. I’d rather spend one night in his bed than watch you lose your bar just because I did something stupid.”

Nicolai felt a rush of tenderness at her willingness to sacrifice on his behalf, but hell would freeze over before he’d let it happen. He could see the wheels turning in her pretty head. He didn’t have to ask to know what strategy she would apply if the worst happened.

“That Dante guy probably has whips and chains around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll go dominatrix on Jackson’s ass. Spank him until he agrees to quit being such a worthless bastard.” She put up a brave front, but Nicolai would never leave that encounter up to chance.

The slight lift in the corner of Dante’s mouth indicated he approved of Desiree’s boast. “I think we can find something for you to work with.”

“I can tell you exactly what you’ll be doing in my bed tonight, Desiree. Want me to describe it? It starts with you flat on your back with your heels behind your ears.” Jackson held an imaginary pair of legs in the air and gyrated his hips like a hormonal teenager.

Desiree pressed her cheek against Nicolai’s arm, turning her face to brush her lips across his skin. The sensation went straight to his cock, and Nicolai bit back a groan. Her touch gave him confidence. If she wasn’t shrinking away, she might forgive him for backsliding on his Gamblers Anonymous program. It had taken him ten years to learn to manage his addiction. He could only hope he didn’t lose everything he’d gained in one high-stakes game.

Nicolai took a seat at the card table, sinking into the plush leather chair. He knew Dante Torres excelled at mind games. The man lived to play in other people’s heads, tweak their emotions, discover their weaknesses, and then exploit them. Now was no exception. It wasn’t enough that Nicolai was sitting at the same table he’d been at during that last disastrous game. Dante had placed his chair in the same position. Knowing Dante, it was probably the same damn chair.

But that was then.

Asylum was probably the only place on the Eastern Seaboard where two people could settle a disagreement with a game like blackjack. Club rules were whatever Dante decided they should be. So while Nicolai sank into a deep place in the calm recesses of his mind, Jackson butted heads with Dante over the house rules.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your rules, Dante. Once I’m off the property, you’ve got no control over me. So really, I can’t lose.”

Jackson wasn’t the only jackass to think his bankroll put him out of Dante’s jurisdiction. Nicolai could have warned the spoiled rich kid that messing with Torres was a losing proposition.

“I warn you, Mr. Wilhelm, that a violation of the terms of this bet will earn you an entry onto the Asylum blacklist.” You could have frozen water on Dante’s words.

“So what? There are half a dozen clubs in this area I’d rather go to.”

“What if I told you I could bar you from any club of this sort on the Eastern Seaboard?”

Jackson’s face twitched uneasily beneath his confident expression, but Dante wasn’t done. “Or perhaps you’re going to settle down after your marriage and quit coming to my clubs. I suppose I could be satisfied with a pound of flesh for any violations. Are you vigilant about checking your car for bombs before you get in?”

“Are you done issuing threats?” Jackson settled himself at the table, spinning his chair from side to side and looking several shades paler than he had a moment before. “Where’s the dealer?”

Dante picked up a deck and shuffled with expert hands. “Right here.”

“That hardly seems fair.” It wasn’t, but Nicolai wasn’t about to join Jackson in whining about it. Dante’s club, Dante’s rules. The only thing you could be sure of was that the man had an angle.

“A fair is something that comes to town once a year. You want to play the game, I’ll deal the cards.” Dante’s expression oozed sarcasm.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Jackson leered across the table at Desiree. “I’m in a hurry to claim my prize.”

Nicolai’s heart hammered against his ribcage. For the last ten years, he’d kept everything in his life under control. Now it had all come undone. He sat in a chair, ready to gamble it all away. One bad card and he’d lose his dignity, the bar, and the woman he loved more than life.

His gaze settled on Desiree. She watched Dante shuffle, nibbling her thumbnail to hide her tension. She was so much more than he’d ever expected to find in a woman. She was more than he deserved. But she was his, and if this was what he had to do to fight for her, he’d do it.

Seconds ago he’d been a basket case, but now the tinge of apprehension in his gut loosened. His senses focused on the table, on Dante’s hands on the cards. Beside him, Jackson began to sweat. The acrid scent exposed the nerves behind the man’s brash exterior.

Dante dealt himself two cards, facedown. With only one deck, the cards would remain that way until both Nicolai and Jackson had called a stand. Dante took the next two cards and placed them in front of Nicolai, faceup, to reveal the queen of spades and a four of hearts.