Page 105 of Vicious Kingdom

A six-and-a-half-foot frame folded into the seat at the other end. So wrapped up in my own inner turmoil, I hadn’t noticed the politician’s arrival.

“Mr. Voss,” I greeted him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Mr. Baldwin,” he replied with a shark’s smile. “I didn’t realize you were a gambling man.”

The dealer silently distributed cards around the table. I kept my expression neutral as I assessed my hand—a pair of kings. Promising, but far from a guaranteed win. Just like my marriage.

“We’re all gambling men here, aren’t we?” I replied, adjusting my chips with calculated precision. “Some of us just have more to lose than others. Tell me, how would your constituents feel knowing their beloved leader ishere?”

Voss chuckled, the sound hollow beneath the low-hanging lights. “We have to go where the money is. Places like this are ideal for backdoor deals, are they not?”

The other players—three businessmen whose names I knew but whose faces I’d forget by morning—shifted uncomfortably. They recognized a predator when they saw one, even if they didn’t know which of us was the more dangerous animal.

“How is married life treating you?” Voss asked casually as he raised the bet. “I heard the ceremony was…short. I would have been there to see it myself, but my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

“Pity, but that’s what happens given the short notice.” I kept my expression neutral as I studied my cards.

“Society has been wondering about that.” The man was immaculate in his tailored suit, not a hair out of place despite the late hour. His political smile didn’t reach his eyes—cold, calculating pools that assessed everyone at the table with practiced precision. “They wonder a great many things about you, Mr. Baldwin.”

“Such as?” I tossed a few more chips into the pile.

Voss met my bet.

The dealer flipped another card.

“Oh, the fact that you rose to such heights as an unknown youth,” the politician drawled. “And then, there are the other whispers.”

Fucking hell.

My blood boiled hot. The wise thing to do was fold and walk away from the table.

One glance at Voss’s thin lips curling upward had me doing exactly that.

“Sorry, gentlemen, the cards are against me tonight,” I growled and began to walk toward the bar.

Quick steps sounded behind me.

“Wait just a minute, Mr. Baldwin.” His voice carried the distance, deep and measured. “I want to know if I have your support in the upcoming elections.”

I made it to the bar, where the good staff already had a fresh scotch waiting for me. I slugged it back.

“Support?” I turned, glass in hand, liquor burning down my throat. “That’s a bold request from someone who just implied he has dirt on me.”

Voss sidled closer, lowering his voice. “Not dirt. Information. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics.” I swirled the scotch, keeping my face impassive. “You want my money or my influence?”

“Both—you’re a man of exceptional talents.” His smile never reached his eyes. “And I suspect your influence extends far beyond what appears on paper.”

I studied him over the rim of my glass. The lights of the coliseum cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the predatory gleam in his eyes. This man was dangerous—not in the way I was, with blood on my hands and secrets in my vault—but in the way of men who wielded power through public perception.

“My support comes with strings,” I began as my brother hissed in my ear in warning.

“Oh, no, you misunderstand.” His eyes gleamed with the knowledge that he held all the cards. “I offer you my protection, but you’re in no place to bargain.”

“Protection?” I scoffed. “Good night, Mr. Voss.”

“From scrutiny. From questions about your past. From further inquiries by our boys down at the Bureau.”