Kimberley's Story: The A-Z of Trophy Wives, #11

By D.D. Grey

They're young, beautiful, with fast cars and luxury homes—with absentee, older husbands. Bored and lonely, each of our trophy wives has her own solution.

 

Her prowess on the track, where her 400M time took her to the state championships at 15, made her a track star. She couldn't quite shave the final second off her best to make the nationals. After a serious accident on her bike at 17, her career as an athlete was stillborn. But the star of the netball and cheerleading squads excelled in college, gaining a near-perfect 4.0 GPA and graduating from the Dean's List.

Her professor encouraged her to follow her penchant for maths and go for first her Masters and then her Doctorate in qualitative statistics. When she is no longer his student, her mentor is free to ask her out. She'd always had a soft spot for the 55-year-old man, and after a short romance, they were married.

It was only now she found out what his real life's work had been. He'd developed a system for playing poker, and he needed a second player. For two years, they worked the casinos, earning a fortune measured in millions, but after being caught out by an eagle-eyed pit boss, they were now barred from every casino on the strip.

He went back to teaching, but at 29, she had nothing.

A friendly game of low-stakes poker with a few of his colleagues got a bit rowdy one night, and since she'd lost, they suggested she took something off. Kimberley refused, but the next week, her husband was away at a conference, and his poker-playing buddies showed up again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Sep 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223045052

Book preview

Chapter 1

Kimberly bit her lip and looked around the small, white-walled room for the fourth or fifth time. She couldn’t help feeling nervous. It looked so much like one of those interrogation rooms the police always used on the TV shows, right down to the CCTV camera with its unblinking eye in the top corner. A small desk, with two chairs their side, and a single chair the other was the only furnishing. In fact, the only thing missing from the room was the mirrored wall, where she knew the interrogators would watch them from the next room behind the one-way mirror. That’s if this was a drama, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t on TV, the bad guy would not be revealed in the final three minutes. This was real life.

James...?

He turned his head and gave her a wink, and a smile then turned back to sit facing the table, impassive. It was as if her husband of the last four years didn’t have a care in the world. Okay, she knew the people outside the room weren’t actually the police, and couldn’t arrest them. She didn’t think the casino security would do anything physically to them, there had been too many witnesses to the way they’d been escorted from the gaming table. Besides, the days the gangs ruled the casinos were long gone. Nobody disposed of high-rollers who were winning, not using concrete boots and the nearest river, not any more.

Nevertheless, she was nervous, and the fact James wasn’t showing even the slightest crack in his demeanor wasn’t helping.

She tried again. James...

Shush, won’t be long now, baby. We’ll be out of here before you can whistle a tune.

How the hell he could be so calm about their world about to implode around their ears? It left her speechless, and if anything, even more worried. The last thing she wanted was her husband keeling over.

She reached over and grabbed his hand, and at least he gave her fingers a squeeze, but nothing more. This time he didn’t even turn and look at her, even though he must have felt her hand trembling under the stress she felt.

She tried one of the relaxation techniques she’d learned to get her through her doctorate. Back when her husband had been nothing more than her professor. Just a simple control of her breathing, but it didn’t work. It hadn’t the first four times she’d tried it either. Nor had the mantras, and the mind-calming tricks she’d picked up from a roommate. Nothing worked.

Nothing happened quite as quickly as James had promised, but it didn’t take that much longer. Beside her, the door opened noiselessly and the large man they’d already been introduced to, strode in.

She hadn’t heard the door, and she didn’t see him until a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye made her jerk her head around. She gasped, unable to suppress the reaction and retain her usually immaculate poker face. Blair Wilson moved around the table and sat down in front of them, crossing his arms and staring at them for a minute that seemed to stretch and stretch. She knew James expected him to speak first, so she joined her husband in the silent staring match. Underneath the table James squeezed her hand again, a warning this time, so she stayed quiet and waited.

Eventually, Mister Wilson sighed and spoke up. Mr. And Mrs. Carson...

Ah, so you accept we are actually married then?

He turned his gaze on her and waited until she’d fallen silent. As I was about to say, Mr. and Mrs. Carson, please accept our apologies for the insinuation you are not the married couple you purport to be. We have, indeed, double-checked, and confirmed you are legally married. Please forgive our initial reactions when you identified yourselves. It was inexcusable.

She smiled tightly and waited for James to respond. He just inclined his head, a simple nod of acceptance, as if he couldn’t be bothered to open his mouth and speak to the man.

The casino pit boss/security chief who’d introduced himself as Blair Wilson carried on as if they had accepted his apology. Obviously, they were going to get nothing more than that for the utter humiliation of the mans’ staff laughing at the idea that a sexily-dressed twenty-nine-year-old would be married to an ex-college professor thirty years her senior. She’d been mortified, and that was all the apology she was going to get? She’d see about that.

As I am sure you are both aware, it is a breach of the rules for any two players at a poker table to collude in any way or manner. They may cooperate in a single hand, or group together to tackle a large pot in some versions of the noble game of poker. However, to collude together, over a long period of time, breaks the rules in this casino, and in all the other casinos here on the Atlantic Coast, and also in Vegas. Am I clear?

James spoke up for the first time, letting go of her hand and folding his together on the table in front of him. She had heard the tone he sued before, many times, especially when he was facing down a student who knew he was right when the professor was certain he was wrong. Are you saying we have broken no law?

That would be correct, Mister Carson. No laws have been broken...

Then I assume we are free to go?

Go where?

Why, back to our room, of course, it is nearly two in the morning, and you have held us down here without food or drink for nearly two hours.

You are free to go at any time, and I must thank you for cooperating while we made our inquiries...

The door was locked, your goons were outside.

I assure you the door was not locked, and the only security posted outside was to make sure you did not wander where you were not wanted.

Kimberley realized he was speaking for the tape, and his words carried a hidden meaning. Where they were not wanted was outside this room. It was a clever play on words, and she was sure it hadn’t been lost on James, either. Such plays on words were the bread and gravy of the academic community he had spent the vast majority of his adult life immersed in.

However, before you leave, I must tell you something.

Wilson’s smile was thin and cruel, and she knew she’d been right. The bottom had fallen out of their world.

As of this moment, you are both persona non-grata in this casino. Your bags have been packed and are waiting for you outside.

Kimberley blushed. Part of their plan was for her to dress seductively, outright sexily, and that meant she had a lot of scandalously small and see-through underwear in their room. Someone, possibly even the goons outside had been rifling through it before stuffing it into her case. She could see them now, standing next to the open drawer she’d kept them in while they were here. Holding them up to the light to see how see-through they really were. Her blush deepened, and she choked back a sob.

Blair Wilson seemed to read her mind, a useful skill for someone in his job. Do not fret about that. Two of the hotel maids cleared the room, I would not have male staff doing such a job.

She breathed a sigh of relief, then realized the maids had probably done the same thing, cackling and giggling as they folded and packed her underwear. That was a job she’d always done for herself.

It remains for me to tell you that you are now barred from these premises. At the conclusion of this conversation, you will be escorted from the building by my men. We have already checked you out of your room, and the hotel has canceled the bill. You owe us nothing, but, I must insist that when you set foot outside our obligation to you will cease. At the same time, you will not, under any circumstances attempt to step back inside these premises. That ban remains in force for life. We use facial recognition software at all entrances. So, please do not be so gauche as to attempt to dye your hair or wear sunglasses. Such deception would perhaps manage to gain you success as far as the front desk, where you would be met by security and escorted outside once more. Please, save yourselves that embarrassment.

James just looked at him. Have you finished?

Wilson gave him a tight smile. No, there is one more detail.

Which is?

I am sure you are aware, all the casinos, including those on the reservations, share a single database for anybody who is designated in this manner. As a result, you will find yourself denied admission in any casino anywhere on this continent. Please do not embarrass yourselves by attempting to gain entry.

He paused and smiled. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, you are, free to go.

Actually, he was being polite, she could read his eyes. What he meant was get the fuck out of my casino. He didn’t offer to shake their hands as he rose to his feet and opened the door.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, James opened the door to their newly rented suite on the Octalot hotel with a flourish and a smile. To Kimberley, her husband seemed far too happy with the situation. She, herself, had been badly shaken by the experience, but James didn’t look like he had a care in the world. As the doorman deposited their cases in the bedroom, James fished out a twenty as a tip, far more than he usually gave, and shut the door behind the man before turning and smiling at her. She could see the look in his eyes, a look she recognized. She’d been getting that look all evening, and not from her husband.

The black dress she wore was part of their plan. Deeply plunging at the front, the dress showed off her