Red Rocket

by Raine Miller

  “Good afternoon,” I say as I approach.

  She meets my gaze, but her expression is almost defiant. It is definitely cold. “Viktor.”

  “I woke up naked in your room and you were not to be found.”

  Her cheeks flush at this as she steals a quick look to her right, no doubt checking to see if her friend heard what I just said.

  “I know I enjoyed our lovemaking. And by the number and intensity of your orgasms, I believe you enjoyed it as well. Am I wrong?”

  “Stop,” she hisses, her cheeks very pink.

  “Stop what? Stop asking why you left after we shared such an incredible experience together?”

  “Stop talking so loudly about what should be private between us.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She looks everywhere but at me. “I needed to go home and think. It was an overwhelming night.”

  “You could have woken me up. I would have driven you.”

  “I needed to be away from you.”

  “Did I offend you in some way?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Then, why did you need to get away from me?”

  “Because I felt like…I felt like maybe we rushed things. Like maybe I shouldn’t have let things go so far between us.”

  “We did what our bodies wanted,” I answer. “We did what felt good. This is not cause for concern.”

  “So simplistic in your assessment,” she says sourly.

  “It is simplistic, but why should it be more?”

  “I told you, I didn’t want some drunken hookup. I didn’t want something quick and meaningless. I wanted to connect. And, for the record, I could lose my job because of this.”

  “How could you? This is nothing to do with your work.”

  “Except the team has a policy, meant to keep players and staff apart.”

  “Stupid policy,” I state, folding my arms across my chest.

  “I won’t disagree with you there.” She looks around furtively, still worried someone is listening to us. “And it didn’t stop Holly and Pam, but knowing my luck, I’ll be the straw that breaks that camel’s back. I’ll be the one to get fired. And I really need my job with the Crush. I actually like working there.”

  “I don’t understand about this camel,” I tell her with what must be a look of confusion on my face.

  She lets out a small, humorless laugh and adjusts her ponytail. The action pushes her back straight and her breasts jut forward. I cannot help my eyes from focusing on them, plump and round in the stretchy material of her dress. I can almost recall the taste of her nipples in my mouth and the vision of my cock fucking those lush tits last night. I’d need a repeat of the experience to be sure though.

  “Stop staring at my tits.”

  “I cannot. They are too nice.”

  “Well, you don’t see me ogling your perfectly sculpted, smooth, naked man-chest, do you?”

  This makes me smirk. “I think you may have ogled. A bit.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I have to go. I just came over to drop my overnight bag in the suite. I have to work a few hours at my second job.”

  “Second job? You work two jobs?”

  “Yes.” She waves me off, which means she doesn’t want to talk about it. I think. American women.

  “Will you be back in time for the group dinner tonight? We are taking Georg for his bachelor party after, but I would like to sit with you during the meal. Would that be okay with you?”

  “I’ll think about it, Viktor.” She sounds unsure. “I just don’t—I don’t know.”

  “I hope this is not still about game night. I have said I am sorry. I should have stopped to tell you I needed reflection and isolation.”

  “It’s not about that,” she answers quickly. “It’s hard to put into words.”

  “Did you not enjoy our time together?”

  “I did,” she whispers. “Very much.”

  “Sit with me at dinner. I promise I will be better at conversation tonight; you will see.”

  Finally, Scarlett looks me in the eye. There is a bit of sadness there, but I don’t sense regret from last night. I need to know what is bothering her, but I’ve also made plans with Tyler. I take her hand, so small and fine, and place a kiss on the palm. “I will see you later. You are beautiful.”

  She lowers her eyes and says quietly, “Thank you, Viktor.”

  I don’t want to leave her now.

  But I have made a promise. The raised eyebrows and smug grin on Tyler’s face, says I don’t need to confirm it was Scarlett last night.

  “Not a word,” I growl as I reach my seat next to Tyler. “Let’s go. We need to catch the bookies before the afternoon books close on tonight’s MMA and boxing matches.”

  He chuckles at my discomfort, of course.

  We pull on our shirts, grab phones and wallets, and head out into the hot afternoon sun.

  “I’m taking Jaeger for the win in tonight’s main fight,” Tyler says.

  “Rodriguez,” I answer.

  “No fuckin’ way!” he yelps. “Rodriguez is not strong enough to beat Jaeger.”

  “He is and he will. You will see the outcome of that fight that I was right.”

  “What about Petrovich in the MMA ring?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  We place our bets and leave quickly, walking back toward the hotel. On the way, I see a floral shop. From the looks of the window displays, it specializes in bouquets for hasty weddings. I know Las Vegas is a place where such things happen often.

  After asking Tyler to wait, I step inside, placing a wad of cash on the desk and asking for the nicest roses to be sent to Scarlett in the bridal suite at the LINQ. I do not understand completely what she is thinking, but I do remember my papa giving my mama flowers and how she always smiled with tears in her eyes. Maybe Scarlett will smile with tears when she sees them.

  She will have to sit with me at dinner now.

  Thirteen

  Policy, Schmolicy

  Scarlett

  I did a three-hour shift at the casino to cover for another server. It was shorter than my usual shift, which was nice, and we ended up being busy enough for me to pocket a few hundred in tips, which is also nice.

  Now, though, I’m back to overanalyzing my night with Viktor. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I let myself sleep with him? I mean, I know this guy isn’t boyfriend material. He’s not the guy I’m going to marry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t fall into bed with some random dude, hoping for instant connection or whatever. It never ends well.

  I don’t know what to feel when I think of Viktor. He’s so stiff, so emotionless. Just once, I’d like to see him smile. Really smile. Not one of those tiny little half-grins—the closest I have ever seen him get to anything resembling a smile. The big Russian is a mystery. And something’s totally going on with him. It’s weird. The guys in suits are strange enough, but I swear I also heard him mention bookies earlier when he and Tyler were talking by the pool.

  Yet…he also feels familiar to me. Comfortable. It’s an odd juxtaposition, being around him. It feels awkward and sensual but also comfortable. I think that’s why I feel so conflicted about whatever this is that’s happening between us.

  See? Totally overanalyzing. He’s a big brute of an athlete. He’s probably not thinking anything about what this all means and blah, blah, blah. No, he’s probably just happy to be able to tell his buddies he scored last night.

  And he really did score. I really did score. Seriously. Hottest sex I’ve ever had, bar none. We are quite compatible in the sack. So maybe I’m making too big a thing of it? Maybe we should just get it out of our systems, get off a few more times, and call it a day? Hmm. Decisions, decisions…

  I get a text from Pam telling me to come up to her new-and-improved suite, where she’s got hair and makeup people at the ready again. I don’t have fancy clothes for events like these. I packed a little black dress, but it feels juvenile as I pull it out
of my overnight bag. I may need to go shopping tomorrow so I’ll have something to wear to the wedding. That stack of cash from today’s shift will probably get me, like, a pair of socks or something. Shopping on the Strip is expensive.

  “Hey girl!” Pam yells as I walk in the room. She’s got a beer in one hand and a big blue dildo in the other.

  “What. Is. That?” I can’t help snickering.

  “Um, a big, fake, blue, dick…obviously,” Pam sings before reading aloud from the packaging, “Turn out the lights and illuminate your playtime with Firefly’s 8-inch glow-in-the-dark pleasure dildo.”

  “Oh-kay. And why do you have it?”

  “Bachelorette gift from the team. The signed card said it was to make up for Georg’s tiny cock.”

  Everyone in the room howls at this.

  “So, Pammy,” I say, taking in the vast suite. It’s really huge, with a sunken living area, a big kitchen, and a crazy, half-circle view. There’s got to be a bedroom somewhere around here, but the main space alone is bigger than my actual apartment. “I am utterly wardrobe challenged tonight.”

  “Say no more.” She hops up and puts the blue dildo on the coffee table. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m dressed in a black jumpsuit. It’s got wide legs, but the sleeveless top part is a showstopper with wide straps and a deep V that goes almost to my belly button. It’s very, very sexy, especially when I put on my favorite silver sandals. And what’s more, I feel sexy. It’s something working at a club can scrape away—self-worth. Being felt up, as if it’s my job to be leered at. I don’t know where Pam had this hiding, but I’m certainly glad she did.

  I have the hairstylist just give me a quick blowout, so my hair is long down my back, smooth and curling just at the ends. The makeup artist gives me a dramatic look, though, to make up for the simplicity of my outfit and my lack of jewelry.

  Pam and I are the first ready, while Holly, Devon, and Daisy all take a little longer. I step outside on a private balcony and my friend joins me. She hands me a glass of champagne and we clink our glasses together as we look out on the amazing view of lights and people and the desert beyond.

  “So, I need to get this out of my system,” I say after a few moments in companionable silence. “I slept with Viktor last night.”

  Pam doesn’t answer. I turn to look at her and find her smirking. One of those “I knew it” types of smirks. Annoying.

  “How did you figure it out?” I ask.

  “Umm, you sent me a text saying you kissed him. You didn’t come back and he didn’t come back, and today he was staring at you like you were his last meal.”

  “Well, he can be overly intense.”

  “But what I want to know is if he was any good, Scarlett.” She nails me with a raised brow.

  “Amazing.” A shiver rocks my whole body as I think about it. “It was mind-blowing. Best ever, bar none.”

  “Wow, that’s a high compliment. Who’d have thought the big dumb rock would know how to use his cock? Oh—I’m a poet!”

  I giggle at this. “You’re ridiculous. How long have you been drinking today?”

  “Since yesterday?”

  “Well, you’d better pace yourself, girlie. Can’t have the bride wasted at her own party. Also, he’s not dumb, I don’t think.” My oddly defensive feelings for Viktor surprise even me. “His English is very formal at times but he has a good command of it, even if he doesn’t always understand American slang or euphemisms. And if you talk too fast, forget it. But he is in no way dumb.”

  “Sorry,” Pam says, putting up a hand in apology. “You’re probably right. He’s just not very emotive, you know? Hard to tell what’s going on in that pretty head of his.”

  “He’s very direct. It’s hard to miss what he’s thinking about once he opens his mouth though.”

  “I sense you’re not happy about this development?” Pam asks.

  “I’m not unhappy. But I can’t put my finger on why this sets me on edge. My job, maybe? The policy?”

  “Policy, schmolicy, Scarlett.” Pam wags a finger at me. “They didn’t fire me, and I had near-sex with Georg on my own therapy table at work.”

  “That’s not something I’d broadcast, friend.”

  She shrugs. “Whatever. We’re getting married!”

  “That’s part of it, too. I can’t get too close to him because he’s leaving for the whole summer. I won’t see him until the fall. And he’s got something going on with those bizarre suit dudes. It’s shady and I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t know,” Pam says with a big sigh. “I don’t know much about Viktor, but I think you should do whatever your heart tells you. I did and I am soooo happy.”

  I realize this conversation is going nowhere. Pam needs to eat and see her beloved Georg. But as we step back inside to see how everyone is coming along, I think about her advice. You should do whatever your heart tells you…

  The problem is I just don’t know what my heart is telling me to do yet.

  A knock at the door announces the delivery of a huge—and I mean ginormous—spray of red roses. There’s other flower deliveries already in the room, many of them from friends in honor of the couple’s nuptials. Right on the heels of the floral delivery, Pam’s wedding planner enters and announces, “It’s time we should get downstairs.”

  Through the din of excitement and commotion, Pam directs the delivery guy to set the vase on the kitchen counter without checking the card. Pam seems excited, making a beeline for the door. Everyone follows along and we head down the hall to the elevator.

  Daisy and Devon chat about a recipe book that Devon is writing. Holly seems in a better mood, looking pretty in a slim-fitting purple dress. She certainly doesn’t look like she’s had a baby. She’s chattering about the guys’ plans for the evening. They’re doing a bachelor party and she’s positive they’ll end up at a strip club.

  “Who cares,” Pam says. “Let them have a little fun. He’ll come home to me, and that’s all that matters.”

  “I’m just…Evan used to do that stuff all the time before we got together but…”

  “It’ll be fine,” Pam insists. “Seriously. That man is in love with you like no man has ever been in love before. He’s not looking for some side-action. No way.”

  “I just feel so puffy lately. And emotional. He’s got to be so sick of my moods.”

  “He loves you,” Pam says again. “For better or worse, remember?”

  “If you were married to Tyler, I might worry,” I chime in, trying to lighten the mood.

  Holly laughs out loud at this. “No joke,” she says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had like six love children out there in the world. He seemingly has nonstop sex, as that’s all he ever talks about.”

  Devon joins the conversation. “I saw our boy wonder down at the pool earlier. He and the big Russian were ogling and being felt up by women all afternoon. Well, when they weren’t heading off to the sports betting joint.”

  “Sports betting?” I ask. My stomach drops.

  “They were blabbing about MMA fights or boxing or some nonsense. Stupid boys.”

  We don’t talk more about this, but it sticks with me for the whole ride down to the restaurant. I can’t be with another gambler. I simply can’t. Gambling ruined my Stephen’s life. My dad’s life. It continues to plague my life.

  Only bad things come from betting. I have learned it over and over and over again. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t care how hot Viktor is, how great he is in bed. We’re done. You’d think I’d be worried about women ogling Viktor or strippers enticing him, but I can’t. Nothing will tempt me toward Viktor now.

  As we step into the restaurant, Pam’s wedding planner stops us and tells us that we need to stick around after dinner. Apparently, Pam and Georg want to do a flash mob at their wedding, and we’ll do a practice session right after we eat.

  I scan the room and pick out Viktor at the bar with the rest of the guys. He stands
out in a crowd, normally, so it’s not difficult to find him. Searching him out in public is something I’ve been doing ever since he joined the Crush, actually. Always from afar, of course. That’s my own dirty little secret though. Nobody knows…I don’t think. Well, Pam maybe knows. I might have blabbed to her once after a night out on the town.

  He looks so fine in his dark blue suit (probably custom) that my eyes literally hurt looking at him right now.

  Because even if he was giving thought to something more than a night of sex with me, we were done.

  So. Not. Fair.

  Fourteen

  No Charity Case Here

  Viktor

  I have worn my best suit tonight. It was custom-made for me by the very best tailor in Saint Petersburg. When I arrive in the bar, I see that I made the right choice. My teammates are also dressed in suits.

  Secretly, I do not care to fit in. I’m not bothered when I don’t. But I want Scarlett to think I look handsome. She’s conflicted about our intimacy last night, but I want her to want me again.

  We all toast to Pamela and Georg. He seems genuinely happy and I’m happy for him. There was a time when I considered him a friend, followed by a period when we hated each other. Now, we are on the same team and I respect him. It feels right to be here to celebrate with him.

  The men chatter about the bachelor party later, but my eyes scan the edge of the room. I’m rewarded when the women arrive, but Scarlett is the only one who catches my attention. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known—especially in the outfit she’s wearing that seems to have been made to conjure up sinful dreams. My cock twitches in my trousers just from taking in her silky hair, her beautiful face, her sexy body. If I saw her on a movie screen, I would be smitten. I feel like a young boy with a crush. Actually, it’s a strange sensation for me to be having at all. It feels unfamiliar to be so…needy for one woman’s attention. But God, I want hers.

  We are all ushered to a private table and I make sure to get the seat next to her. She gives me a small, private smile but says nothing. I try to engage her, asking her about her day.