20. Griffin #2
The casino doors open, and Anika walks in. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that hugs every curve, her hair is swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck.
My mouth goes dry. Time stands still.
I can’t focus. Not when Anika is walking across the room with deliberate grace, every eye following her progress. She doesn’t look at me directly, but I know she’s aware of my presence. There’s a confidence in her stride that I haven’t seen before. A subtle power that makes my heart race.
She passes behind my chair without acknowledgment, and I swear I feel the air crackle.
Then she circles the table and stops behind Durand. She leans down, her lips almost touching his ear as she whispers something. He nods once, his expression unchanged, his eyes never leaving his cards.
I grip my cards so tightly they bend. What is she doing here? And with him? My stomach churns with jealousy. Is this why she’s been avoiding me? Has she been with this guy all along?
Anika straightens, gives Durand’s shoulder a familiar squeeze, then glides to the bar where she orders a drink with a graceful gesture.
“Griffin!” the voice hisses. “It’s your bet.”
I blink, realizing the table is waiting for me. I glance down at my cards, then at the flop. I’ve completely missed what’s been played.
“Fold,” the voice in my ear says urgently. “You’re distracted. Fold and regroup.”
I toss my cards face down. “Fold.”
Malcolm smirks across the table, clearly noticing my sudden change in demeanor. “Losing your nerve, McGregor?”
I force a smile. “Just getting started, Chase.”
But my eyes drift back to Anika at the bar.
I’m suddenly sick of this whole charade. I wave the barman over. “Double shot of tequila. Anejo. No lime…Please.”
Elodie’s clicks her tongue. “Tequila? What happened to your martini, shaken not stirred?” There’s a trace of amusement in her tone.
“Left it on the train with that assassin,” I mutter, keeping my eyes fixed on Anika.
Elodie jabs my shoulder as if to shut me up even though I’m sure no one heard the assassin comment except the FIS agents listening in.
“Deal,” Malcolm announces, his voice cutting through my distraction.
The cards slide across the felt. I pick mine up. Pocket aces. The best starting hand in poker.
“Raise to fifty thousand,” Victor whispers urgently in my ear.
I glance at my cards again, then at Anika, with an intensity that makes my stomach knot.
“I fold,” I announce, tossing my cards face down.
“What?” the voice in my ear explodes. “You had pocket aces!”
I casually reach up and adjust my ear, dislodging the device just enough to muffle the tirade.
Malcolm Chase chuckles. “The pressure getting to you already, McGregor? We’ve barely begun.”
“Just stretching my legs,” I say, standing just as the barman arrives with my tequila. I down it in one gulp, welcoming the burn that travels down my throat and settles in my empty stomach. The warmth spreads through my limbs, giving me a false sense of courage.
I make a beeline for the bar, where Anika is perched on a stool, her back deliberately turned to the poker table. She’s sipping something amber-colored and pretending I don’t exist.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low and controlled.
She turns slowly, her expression perfectly neutral. “Having a drink.”
“You know what I mean.” I move closer, hissing under my breath. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now you show up here? With him?”
Her eyes flick briefly to Durand, then back to me. “I’m not with anyone.”
“Really? Because it sure looked like you two were pretty cozy.”
A flash of irritation crosses her face. “This isn’t the place, Griffin.”
“Then where is the place? Your pub, where you won’t let me in? Your phone, where you won’t answer my calls? I thought we had something, Anika.”
A flicker of something…regret? Longing…? crosses her face before she masters it. “You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then explain it to me. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re getting awfully friendly with that guy.”
She sets down her glass with a soft clink. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Why does it matter?” I repeat, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
I step closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume.
Something subtle and clean, not the cloying musky bomb Elodie bathes in.
“It matters because every time I close my eyes, I see you. It matters because seeing you with him makes me want to flip that poker table and carry you out of here over my shoulder. Because ever since you broke into my cabin with that stabby attitude, I haven’t been able to think straight. ”
Anika’s lips part in surprise at my intensity. “I’m not stabby.”
“Look, I’m in the middle of a gagillion-euro poker game, and all I can focus on is the way you’re whispering in that guy’s ear.” I lean in so there’s practically no space between us. “So yeah, it matters to me.”
“You can’t just say things like that,” she hisses.
“I haven’t been able to think of anything else…but kissing you again,” I admit.
Anika’s breath hitches, but she keeps her composure. “That was practice.”
“For who? Thomas? Or that guy over there glaring a hole in the back of my head?”
“Griffin, you need to go back to your game.” She glances over my shoulder.
“The game can wait.” I brace my hand on the bar, effectively boxing her in. “You’ve been ignoring me for days, and now you show up looking like that?” I gesture at her dress, the way it hugs every curve. “I’m not walking away until I get answers.”
“I don’t owe you explanations.” She tilts her chin up defiantly.
“No. You don’t get to push me away anymore.” I lean in. “I nearly died on a train this morning, and you know what flashed before my eyes? Not hockey. Not my career. You. Just you.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You whaaat?!”
“Someone tried to kill me,” I say, noting how her eyes flicker with concern. “And all I could think was that I never got to tell you how I feel.”
“And…how do you feel?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek. “Like I’ve been guarding a net my whole life, and you just scored right through me.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the slight upward tug at the corner of her mouth. “That’s the cheesiest hockey metaphor I’ve ever heard.”
“I’ve got more where that came from.” I move even closer. “You’re mine, Anika.”
Her breath catches. “I am not yours. I am not anyone’s.”
“Yet,” I add. “But I’m a patient man. I’ll wait.”
“There’s nothing between us. Just air.”
“Oh really?” I lean impossibly close, my mouth inches from her ear. “Your body said otherwise when I kissed you. The way you melted against me, the little sound you made in the back of your throat…That wasn’t nothing.”
She flushes pink to the roots of her hair. “Griffin!”
“I’m not letting you walk away again without hearing me out.”
Her gaze flickers to the poker table, then back to me. “This really isn’t the place for this conversation.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else. Right now.”
“I can’t just leave.”
“Why not? What’s keeping you here? Him?” I gesture toward Durand again, letting my anger rise.
“You,” she says cryptically.
“I’m done playing games, Anika.” My voice is firm, possessive. “I need you alone.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the bar.
“No, not like that. Well, yes like that, but more importantly so I can explain everything. The helicopter, the gala…None of it was what it seemed.”
She looks up at me, her expression guarded. “Then what was it?”
“Not here.” I glance around. “Let’s go up to my room.”
She snorts. “So you can spin me more stories? I’m not naive, Griffin.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met. That’s why I need you to trust me just a little longer.”
Anika shifts her gaze back to the poker table. “You should go.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” I say, my voice low and fierce. “That guy doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even know you.”
“Griffin…”
“Tell me I mean nothing to you.” My voice comes out louder than I intend.
“Shhh.”
“Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I see something raw and real there. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it? Because the way you walked in this room, it looks like it is what I think.”
“It’s not.”
“Then why are you here with him?”
She hesitates. “I can’t explain right now.”
“Try.” I tilt her chin up, not caring who sees how close her lips are to mine. “Because the thought of his hands on you makes me want to tear this place apart.”
Her breath hitches. “Griffin…”
“One word from you, Anika. One word, and I’ll walk away from this table, from this game, from all of it. We’ll get out of here and never look back.”
“There you are, darling,” a sultry voice interrupts. “You’re needed at the table.”
Elodie materializes at my side. Her hand lands possessively on my forearm, her nails digging in just enough to communicate her displeasure.
“The game is resuming,” she whispers. “Malcolm is asking for you personally.”
I don’t turn around. “Give me a minute.”
Anika’s eyes dart between us, and though she tries to maintain her neutral expression, I catch the slight tightening around her mouth…
her fingers gripping her glass. Something primal flashes on her expression before she masks it with cool indifference.
She’s jealous. The realization sends a ridiculous thrill through me that I probably shouldn’t enjoy as much as I do.
Elodie smiles at Anika, all teeth and no warmth. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Elodie.”
“Anika.” She extends her hand with deliberate politeness.
The barman approaches. “Can I get you something, madam?”
“A Negroni,” Elodie says without taking her eyes off Anika. “With an orange twist, not lemon.”
I try to subtly extricate my arm from Elodie’s grip, but she holds fast, playing the role of possessive girlfriend.
“You have a bit of fluff,” Elodie says, reaching up to brush at my ear. Her fingers find my earpiece, adjusting it back into place. Immediately, Showalter’s agitated voice fills my ear again.
“—completely unprofessional! Get back to the table now, McGregor!”
“She’s using you,” Elodie hisses in my ear. “This is a distraction technique. Get back to the table.”
I keep my eyes locked on Anika’s, but her entire demeanor shifts. Her spine straightens, and a saccharine smile spreads across her face.
“Your accent is…interesting. Where are you from?” she asks Elodie. You are not Swiss.”
Elodie’s expression flickers briefly before resettling into its mask of cool confidence. “Everywhere and nowhere. My father was a diplomat. We moved constantly.”
“That must have been very difficult as a child,” Anika says.
Elodie’s grip on my arm tightens almost imperceptibly. “It taught me adaptability. A useful skill.”
I watch this verbal tennis match with growing confusion. The two women are sizing each other up, exchanging pleasantries loaded with subtext I can’t quite decipher.
“Fascinating,” Anika says, though her tone suggests it’s anything but. “And what brings you to Switzerland? The skiing? The banking? The…hockey players?”
I swear I see Elodie’s eye twitch at that last word.
“Business,” Elodie replies curtly.
The barman returns with the Negroni. As Elodie reaches for her drink, I notice something on her wrist. The edge of a tattoo peeking out from under her bracelet. A small, dark symbol that looks like a stylized spider or maybe a star.
“And what kind of business is that?” Anika asks sweetly.
Something’s different about her tonight.
Her face is still as adorable as ever, freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks as those big, beautiful eyes seem so innocent.
But there’s nothing innocent about the way she’s questioning Elodie. She’s calculated. Crafty.
It’s hot.
But as effective as Anika’s bold confidence may be, Elodie’s training with the secret service gives her an edge. Without missing a beat, she answers with a straight face.
“Finance.” Then, lifting her glass, says, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Anika. But I’m afraid I need to steal Griffin back to the poker game. The table is waiting, darling.”
A gentle warning.
“I’m sure the…table can wait a little longer,” I say, voice clipped.
“Go on,” Anika says, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t let me keep you from your…business.” She feigns a smile at Elodie as she says the last word. “I’ll be right here, chatting with my new friend.”
“I would like nothing more,” Elodie says, tilting her head as if she’s trying to figure Anika out.
I look between them, suddenly feeling like I’ve wandered into a minefield without a map. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and I have the distinct impression that whatever game these two women are playing is a lot cattier than that poker game across the room.
“Griffin,” Showalter barks in my ear. “The hand is starting. Get back to the table now.”
I’m so tempted to rip the earpiece out and throw it in Elodie’s Negroni, consequences be damned.
Let Malcolm keep his millions. Let the FIS find another patsy.
To tell Elodie to back off, to make it crystal clear to Anika that there’s nothing between us.
But something in Anika’s expression stops me. A subtle warning, perhaps.
“Go play your game, Griffin,” Anika says. “They’re waiting for you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, extricating myself from Elodie’s grip. “I’ll be back,” I tell Anika, trying to convey with my eyes all the things I can’t say aloud.
I step back, feeling like I’m physically tearing myself away from her.
“Take your time,” she replies, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Don’t worry about us…girl talk, ja ?”
As I walk back to the game, I just catch Anika saying, “Sooo, I’d love to hear more about your travels. You must have so many interesting stories.”
I take my seat at the table, my mind racing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Anika leaning casually against the bar, chatting like she’s just met her new BFF.
But I know something’s up with those two beautiful, dangerous women.
Each with their own agenda. I just need to figure out what Anika’s is.