Chapter 19

19

Cass

" D on't tell my father I threw up," I say as I wipe my mouth on a napkin one of the guards handed to me. Cole and I are standing on the sidewalk near the casino, waiting for the men to clean up the floorboard.

"What if you were poisoned?" Cole asks as he shakes off his ruined dress shoes.

"Then I'll die."

"Cassie…" He stares me down, army green eyes locked on mine as if trying to determine if I'm serious or not.

"If any of these guards risk their lives by ratting me out and Daddy asks you, just tell him that I drank too much," I say, loud enough for the men to hear me.

"Fine," he huffs as he takes a step closer to me. "But I'm going to keep an eye on you tonight."

"I'm not fucking you," I tell him, certain that I would throw up on him if we tried.

"You just barfed our entire dinner all over my shoes, Cassie. So don't worry. I can promise you that vomit isn't an aphrodisiac for me."

"So, then we'll what? Have a slumber party? Stay up all night watching movies and talking about boys?" I ask him.

"You can sleep. I'm just going to make sure you keep breathing and don't suffocate on your vomit."

"Sounds like it will be a blast," I huff.

"Well? How did it go?" my father asks when Cole and I finally get back to the casino. He's waiting in the first-floor foyer with Vanessa, both of them in pajamas, which is weird as fuck to see. "You're back earlier than we expected."

"Two old bastards don't seem to like you very much," Cole tells him. "And everyone wants to know why I can't speak the ‘mother tongue.' Mom, are you fluent in Russian?"

"I may have been once, but I'm probably a little rusty now," Vanessa answers. "Those first few years, I had to work extremely hard to avoid letting my accent slip, until English came so naturally to me, I lost it. My nanny is the one who insisted on teaching me English, or I would've never known much of it. She was the only one in our entire household who spoke it."

"Right, because it's a way to talk shit in front of people without them knowing it," Daddy explains. "My family did the same, speaking mainly in Italian until the second generation when my father was born in the US and went to private school in the states. My grandfather refused to learn English. My father only spoke Italian when he was pissed." Waving a hand in the air, he asks, "What else did you learn tonight?"

"The older assholes were Lev and Ony," Cole informs him. "They should be considered enemies until proven innocent. "

"Don't forget about Inessa," I add.

Cole's eyes cut to me as he huffs, "She's completely harmless."

"Inessa Kozlov?" my father asks.

"She did mention taking over for a Kozlov," I remark.

"Is she his daughter or something?" Cole asks, a little too interested in the conniving blonde bitch. She may look all sweet and innocent, but she had a thigh holster under her slutty black dress. I could tell by the way she stood so the holster wouldn't rub her other thigh.

"No, she wasn't his daughter. Inessa was Anton Kozlov's second wife."

"Wife?" Cole repeats. "But she's so young."

"Russians like their arranged marriages more so than the rest of us. She could've been married off to Kozlov as soon as she turned eighteen."

"Or sixteen," Vanessa adds. "It was frowned upon, but happened if the groom was high up in the chain of command and insistent."

"Your father wouldn't let me have you at sixteen," Daddy says to Vanessa with his brows raised.

"Yuck," I mumble as another flip of my stomach has me clutching my abdomen. Cole's eyes follow the movement and I shake my head at him in warning.

"I'm not saying I would've married you then, I'm just saying it wasn't on the table," my dad explains to his wife. "Anyway, back to Inessa. She's obviously an adult now, helping to run things at the sports bar. She could potentially be a good match for you, Cole."

"What?" I exclaim, then have to swallow down a mouthful of vomit.

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."

"Then if you were poisoned, hopefully your body has expelled the toxin."

"I doubt I was poisoned. I should've just said it was food poisoning when I barfed in the back seat."

"But you don't think it was food poisoning either?"

I shake my head. "No. Nobody else got sick after dinner so…"

"Have you been running a fever? Had chills?"

"No. Neither."

"Have you recently been around anyone who had a stomach virus?"

"Nope. "

Nodding, she gives me a small smile before asking, "When was your last period, Cass?"

"Recently."

"Could you give me a date?"

"Last week."

"So, you're obviously not pregnant?" she asks in the form of a question rather than a statement.

"Obviously."

"So, I don't need to offer you a certain pill that's prescribed when a morning-after pill doesn't work?"

"No. I'm good. Thanks. Probably just a stomach bug."

Her hawk eyes hold mine. "Just so you know, I could get you that medication if necessary. Your father would never have to know about it either."

Barking out a laugh, I ask her, "Do you have a death wish, Dr. Gates?"

"I don't, but my priority is always first and foremost to my patients, regardless of who pays my bill."

"I'm not your patient."

"Sure you are."

"I don't need any of your pills. So, are we finished here?"

"Yes, unless you will allow me to press on your abdomen."

"No."

"That's what I thought." With a heavy sigh, she gets up and heads to the bedroom door, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. "How about I call in a prescription for nausea?" she asks.

"Fine," I agree.

Opening the door, she goes on to say, "Assuming that you're still alive in the morning, I think you'll be just fine."

"Great. I'm sorry you wasted your time coming over so late."

"I'll keep an eye on her tonight," Cole says from the hallway, making me roll my eyes. Then, a whispered, "She's not, um, pregnant, is she, Doc? "

"It's probably just a stomach bug," Dr. Gates tells him then louder. "Make sure she stays hydrated, and have Dante call me if she gets any worse."

"Worse?" Cole asks.

"If the vomiting is uncontrollable, the abdominal pain intensifies, or she starts running a fever, those sorts of things."

"Okay, thanks."

"I'll just give my report to Dante and see myself out," Dr. Gates tells him.

Cole appears in the doorway a second later still in his untucked dress shirt and slacks. "So, you're probably not going to die?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"I'll come back in half an hour, once Mom and Dante go to bed," he says quietly.

"You don't have to do that."

"Someone has to make sure you don't choke on your own vomit tonight, remember? Would you prefer to have my mom bunk with you?"

I shake my head.

"Then I'll be back in half an hour. Try not to suffocate on your barf before then."

"I'll try," I mutter.

I'm curled up, nearly asleep since my nausea has passed when I hear my bedroom door open and close.

There's some rustling as Cole undresses, then a dip from the other side of the mattress when he slides underneath the covers. He doesn't get close enough to spoon me, but his palm reaches over to feel my forehead.

"I don't have a fever," I murmur. "And I haven't choked on my vomit. Now either go to sleep or leave. "

He huffs out a sigh when he pulls his hand away, then settles into the mattress.

"Goodnight, Cassie."

"Goodnight, Cole," I reply, not bothering to chastise him for the name. I think it's growing on me, which is a very bad idea.