Kitabı oku: «Rich Man's Revenge», sayfa 2

The men were riveted.

“I’m in,” Greg Hudson croaked.

“And me.”

“I accept.”

“Yes.”

As the men at the table agreed, Bree would have been frightened by all the looks of lust and desire and rage, if she hadn’t frozen her heart against emotion.

But the last set of ice-blue eyes held no lust. No desire for domination. Just pure, cold understanding. As if Vladimir alone could see through all her tricks to the scared woman beneath.

“As you wish,” he said softly. He gave a cold smile. “Let’s play.”

His low, sensual voice slid through her body. When she looked into Vladimir’s eyes, fear pierced her armor. Pierced her heart. She wanted to leap up and run from his knowing gaze, to keep running and never stop. It took every ounce of her willpower to remain in the chair.

Clutching her jacket around her for warmth, she wrenched her gaze away, gripping the black leather so no one could see that her hands were shaking. “Then let’s begin.”

At Greg Hudson’s nod, Chris the dealer dealt the cards. Ignoring the spiteful whispers and daggered glances of the trophy girls, Bree stared at her cards, facedown on the table.

She couldn’t let herself think what would happen if she lost. Couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to let any of these angry, fat, ugly men take their revenge on her virginal body through rough sex.

But even more awful would be having Vladimir win. Giving her virginity to the man who’d once broken her completely? She couldn’t survive it. Not from him.

Just win, she ordered herself. All she had to do was take this first hand, and her virginity would no longer be on offer. It would be a long night of poker trying to win a hundred thousand dollars. But this was the most important hand.

Closing her eyes, she silently prayed. Then she picked up the cards. Careful not to let any of the players see them, she looked at them.

It took every ounce of her skill not to gasp.

Three kings. She had three kings, along with a four and a queen. Three kings. She nearly wept with relief. It was as if fate had decided she was gambling for the right reasons and deserved to win.

Unless it was more than fate …

She looked up through her lashes toward the young dealer. Could he be helping her? Chris was about Josie’s age, and he’d come twice to their apartment for dinner. He wasn’t exactly a close friend, but he’d spoken many times with irritation about Greg Hudson’s poor management skills. “You would do a better job of running this resort, Bree,” he’d grumbled, and she’d agreed with a smile. “But who wouldn’t?”

Now, catching her eye, the young dealer gave her a wink and a smile.

Sucking in her breath, Bree looked away before anyone noticed. Her eyes accidentally fell on Vladimir’s. His eyebrows lowered, and she gulped, looking back down at her cards, hastily making her expression blank. Had he seen? Could he guess?

The dealer turned to his left. “Your Highness?”

Because of his placement at the table, Vladimir was the first one required to add a bet to the pile of chips already in the middle of the table from the ante. “Raise.”

Raise? Bree looked up in surprise. He was looking straight at her as he said, “Five thousand.”

Texas Big-Hat cursed and threw his cards on the table. “Fold.”

“Call,” Silicon Valley said, matching Vladimir’s bet.

“Call,” Mr. Vanderwald puffed, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Call,” Greg Hudson said.

All eyes turned to Bree.

“She’s already all in,” Greg Hudson said dismissively. “There’s nothing more she can wager.”

He was right, she thought with a pang. She couldn’t match Vladimir’s raise, and that meant even if she won the hand, she couldn’t win anything beyond the twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of chips currently in the center. What a waste of three kings …

Bree suddenly smiled. “I call.”

“Call?” Greg Hudson hooted. “You have an extra five thousand dollars hidden in the back pocket of those jeans?”

She stretched back her shoulders and felt the eyes of the men linger on the shape of her breasts beneath her black T-shirt. “I can match the bet in other ways. Instead of just an hour in bed, I’ll offer an entire night.” She tilted back her head, allowing her long blond hair to tumble provocatively down her shoulders. “Many chances. Multiple positions. As fast or slow or hard as you like it, all night long, and each time better than the last. Against the wall. Bent over the bed. In my mouth.”

She felt like a total fool. She hoped she sounded like a woman who knew what she was talking about, not a scared virgin whose idea of lovemaking was vague at best, based only on movies and novels. But as she looked at each man at the table they seemed captivated. She exhaled. Her mask was holding. She was convincing them. Even Chris the dealer looked entranced.

Vladimir alone seemed completely unaffected. Bored, even. His lips twisted with scorn. And his eyes—

His blue eyes saw straight through her. A hot blush burned her cheeks as she said to him, “Do you agree my bet is commensurate with your five thousand dollar raise?”

“No,” Vladimir said coldly. “That is not a call.”

Her heart sank. “You …”

He gave her a calm smile. “That is an additional raise.”

“A … a raise?” she echoed uncertainly.

“Obviously. Let us say … your added services are equivalent to an additional five thousand dollars? Yes. A full night with you would surely be worth that.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Would you not agree?”

“Five thousand more?” Greg Hudson’s voice hit a false note. Catching himself, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and snickered, “Fine with me. I’m half raised already.”

“Good,” Vladimir said softly, never looking away from Bree. “So we are in agreement.”

Bree’s brow furrowed as she tried to read his expression. What on earth was he doing?

Trying to help her? Or giving her more rope to hang herself with?

Repressing her inner tumult, she stared him down. In for a penny … She lifted her chin. “If it’s worth five more, then why not ten more?”

The corners of Vladimir’s mouth lifted. “Yes, indeed. Why not?” He looked around the table. “Miss Dalton has raised the wager by ten thousand dollars.”

To her shock, one by one the men agreed to her supposed “raise,” except for the Belgian, who folded with an unintelligible curse.

And just like that—oh, merciful heavens—there was suddenly a pile of chips at the center of the table worth seventy-five thousand dollars.

She looked at each man as they discarded cards and got new ones from the dealer.

Don’t play the hand, her father had always said. Play the man.

She forced herself to look across the table at Vladimir. His face was inscrutable as he discarded a card and got a new one. When she’d played him ten years ago, he’d had a tight style of play. He did not bluff, he did not overbet—the exact opposite of Bree’s strategy.

He lifted his eyes to hers, and against her will, her heart turned over in her chest. His handsome face revealed nothing. The poverty of his homesteading Alaskan childhood, so different from hers, had pushed him to create a billion-dollar business across the world, primarily in metals and diamonds. He was so ruthless he had cut his own younger brother out of their partnership right before a multimillion-dollar deal. It was said Vladimir Xendzov had molten gold in his veins and a flinty diamond instead of a heart. That he wasn’t flesh and blood.

But if Bree closed her eyes, she could still remember their last night together, when they’d almost made love on a bearskin rug beneath the Christmas tree. She could remember the heat and searing pleasure of his lips against her skin in the deep hush of that cold winter’s night.

I love you, Breanna. As I’ve never loved anyone.

No one else had ever called Bree by her full name. Not like that. Now, as they looked at each other across the poker table, they were two enemies with battle lines drawn. Everything she’d ever thought him to be was a dream. All that was left was a savagely handsome man with hard blue eyes and an emotionless face.

She turned away. Greg Hudson and the Silicon Valley tycoon were far easier to read. She watched her boss get three new cards, saw the sweat on his face and the way he licked his thick, rubbery lips as he stared down at his hand. Hudson had nothing. A pair of twos, maybe.

She looked at Silicon Valley. His lips were tight, his eyes irritated as he stared down moodily at his cards. He was probably already thinking about the twenty thousand dollars he’d wagered in the pot. She hid a smile.

“Miss Dalton?” Chris the dealer said. Stone-faced, she handed in the four of spades. Waited. And got back …

A queen.

She forced herself not to react, not even to breathe. Three kings and two queens. A full house.

It was an almost unbeatable hand. Careful not to meet Vladimir’s eyes, she placed her cards facedown on the table. How she wished she could raise again! If only she had more to offer, she could have finished off her sister’s debt right now—with a single hand!

Don’t be greedy, she ordered herself. Seventy-five thousand dollars was plenty. Once she had it safely in her possession, the offer of her body—and unbeknownst to the men, her virginity—would be off the table.

But still. A full house. Her heart filled with regret.

“Raise,” Vladimir said.

She looked up with a frown. Why would he raise now?

His eyes met hers. “Fifteen thousand.”

“Fold.” With a growl, Silicon Valley tossed his cards on the table. “Damn you.”

Greg Hudson nervously wiped his forehead. For several seconds, he stared at his cards. Then he said in a small voice, “Call.”

They all looked at her. Bree hesitated. She wanted to match Vladimir’s raise. Yearned to. She had an amazing hand, and the amount now in the pot was even more than her sister’s debt. But without anything more to offer, she was already all in. Even if she won, she wouldn’t get the additional amount.

If only she had something more to offer!

“Well?” Vladimir’s eyes met hers. “Will you call? Perhaps,” he said in a sardonic voice, “you wish to raise your offer to an entire weekend of your charms?”

Bree stared at him in shock. A weekend?

She didn’t know why he was helping her—or if he thought he could hurt her. But with this hand, it didn’t matter. She was going to win.

“Great idea,” she said coolly. “I’ll match your raise with a full weekend of my—how did you put it? My charms?”

Vladimir’s lips turned up slightly at the edges, though his eyes revealed nothing.

Heart pounding, she waited for Greg Hudson to object. But he didn’t even look up. He just kept staring at his own cards, chewing on his lower lip.

It was time to reveal cards. Vladimir, based on his position at the table, went first. Slowly, he turned over his cards. He had two pairs—sevens and nines.

Relief flooded through Bree, making her body almost limp. She hadn’t realized until that moment how scared she’d been that even with her completely unbeatable hand, Vladimir might find a way to beat her.

Greg Hudson’s cards, on the other hand, were a foregone conclusion. He muttered a curse as he revealed a pair of threes.

Blinking back tears, Bree turned over her cards to reveal her full house, the three kings and two queens. There was a smattering of applause, exclamations and cursing across the room. She nearly wept as she reached for the pile of chips at the center of the table.

She’d saved Josie.

She’d won.

Bree’s legs trembled beneath her as she rose unsteadily to her feet, swaying in her high-heeled stiletto boots. She pushed the bulk of the chips toward Greg Hudson, keeping only a handful for herself. “This pays my sister’s debt completely, yes? We are free of you now?”

“Free?” Greg Hudson glared at her, then his piggy eyes narrowed. “Yes, you’re free. In fact, I want you and your sister off this property tonight.”

“You’re firing us?” Her jaw dropped. “For what cause?”

“I don’t need one,” he said coldly.

She stiffened. She hadn’t seen that coming. She should have. A small-minded man like her boss would never stand being beaten in a card game by a female employee. He’d already resented her for weeks, for the respect she’d quickly gained from the staff, and all the notes she’d left in the suggestion box, listing possible ways to improve his management of the resort.

“Fine.” She grabbed her handful of chips and glared at him. “Then I’ll tell you what I should have written up in the suggestion box weeks ago. This resort is a mess. You’re being overcharged by your vendors, half your employees are stealing from you and the other half are ready to quit. You couldn’t manage your way out of a paper bag!”

Mr. Hudson’s face went apoplectic. “You—”

She barely heard him as he cursed at her. These extra chips, worth thousands of dollars, would give both Dalton girls a new start—buy them a plane trip back to the Mainland, first and last months’ rent on a new apartment, and a little something extra to save for emergencies. And she would go someplace where she’d be sure she never, ever saw Vladimir Xendzov again. “I’ll just cash in these chips, collect our last paychecks, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Wait, Miss Dalton,” Vladimir said from behind her in a low, husky voice.

Her body obeyed, without asking her brain. Slowly, she turned. She couldn’t help herself.

He was sitting calmly at the table, looking up at her with heavily lidded eyes. “I wish to play one more game with you.”

Nervousness rose in her belly, but she tossed her head. “So desperate to win your money back? Are times so tough for billionaires these days?”

He smiled, and it did not meet his eyes. “A game for just the two of us. Winner take all.”

“Why would I do that?”

Vladimir indicated his own entire pile of chips. “For this.”

The blood rushed from her head, making her dizzy. “All of that?” she gasped.

He gave her a single nod.

Greg Hudson made a noise like a squeak. Sweat was showing through his tropical cotton shirt as he, along with everyone in the room, stared at the pile of chips. “But Prince Vladimir—Your Highness—that’s a million dollars,” he stammered.

“So it is,” he replied mildly, as if the amount were nothing at all—and to Vladimir, it probably wasn’t.

A single bead of sweat broke out between Bree’s breasts. “And what would you want from me?”

His blue eyes seared right through her. “If I win,” he said quietly, “you would be mine. For as long as I want you.”

As long as he wanted her? “That would make me your … your slave.”

Vladimir gave her a cold smile. “It is a wager I offer. You. For a million dollars.”

“But that’s—”

“Make your choice. Play me or go.”

She swallowed, hearing a roar of blood in her ears.

“You can’t just buy her!” her ex-boss brayed.

“That’s up to Miss Dalton,” Vladimir said. He turned his laserlike gaze on Bree. “So?”

Though there were ten other people in the room, it was so quiet she could have heard a pin drop. All eyes were on her.

A million dollars. The choice she made in this moment would determine the rest of her life—and Josie’s. They could pay off their father’s old debts to unsavory men, the ones that had kept them in virtual hiding for the past ten years. Josie would be free to go to college—any college she wanted. And Bree could start her own little B and B by the sea.

They’d no longer have to hide or be afraid.

They’d be free.

“What is the game?” she said weakly. “Poker?”

“Let’s keep it easy. Leave it to fate. One card.”

Her eyes widened. “One …”

His gorgeous face and chilly blue eyes revealed nothing as his sensual lips curved. “Are you feeling lucky, Miss Dalton?”

Was she feeling lucky?

Taking a million dollars from Vladimir would be more than sweet revenge. It would be justice for how he’d coldly abandoned her when she’d needed him most. He’d destroyed ten years of her life. She could take this one thing from him. A new life for her and Josie.

But risk being Vladimir’s slave—forever? The thought made her body turn to ice. It was too much to risk on a random card from the deck.

Unless … it wasn’t so random.

She looked sideways beneath her lashes at Chris, the dealer. He lowered his head, his expression serious. Was that a nod? Did she have a sympathetic ally? She closed her eyes.

How much was she willing to risk on a single card?

Are you feeling lucky, Miss Dalton?

Bree exhaled. She’d just won a hundred thousand dollars in a single game. She slowly opened her eyes. So, yes, she felt lucky. She sat back down at the table.

“I accept your terms,” she stated emphatically.

Vladimir’s smile widened. “So to be clear. If my card is higher, you’ll belong to me, obeying my every whim, for as long as I desire.”

“Yes,” she said, glancing again at Chris. “And if mine is higher, you will give me every chip on that table.”

“Agreed.” Vladimir lifted a dark eyebrow. “Ace card high?”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other, and Bree again forgot there was anyone else in the room. Until someone coughed behind her, and she jumped, realizing she’d been holding her breath.

Vladimir turned to the dealer. “Shuffle the deck.”

Bree put the chips she’d won in the last game into a little pile and pushed them aside. “I will select my own card.”

Her opponent looked amused. “I would expect no less.”

They both turned to Chris, who visibly gulped. Shuffling carefully, with all eyes upon him, he fanned out the facedown cards. He turned them toward Bree, who made her selection, then toward Vladimir, who did the same.

Holding her breath, Bree slowly turned her card over.

The king of hearts.

She’d drawn the king of hearts! She’d won!

She gasped aloud, no longer able to control her emotions. Flipping her card onto the table to reveal the suit, she covered her face with her palms and sobbed with joy. After ten years, fate had brought the untouchable Vladimir Xendzov into her hands, to give her justice at last. Parting her hands, she lifted her gaze, waiting for the sweetness of the moment when he turned over his own losing card, and his face fell as he realized he’d lost and she’d won.

Vladimir looked down at his card. For an instant, his hard expression didn’t change.

Then he looked up at her and smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes.

It was an ice pick through her heart.

“Sorry, Bree,” he said casually, and tossed his card onto the table.

She stared down at the ace of diamonds.

Her mind went blank. Then a tremble went through her, starting at her toes and moving up her body as she looked at Vladimir, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. She dimly heard Greg Hudson’s annoyed curse and the other men’s cheers, heard the women’s snide laughter—except for the woman directly behind Vladimir, who seemed to be crying.

“You—you’ve …” Bree couldn’t speak the words.

“I’ve won.” Vladimir looked at her, his blue eyes electric with dislike. He rose from his chair, all six feet four inches of him, and said coldly, “You have ten minutes to pack. I will collect my winnings in the lobby.” As she gaped at him, he walked around the table to stand over her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. He leaned nearer, his face inches from hers.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said softly. “But now, at last, Bree Dalton—” his lips slid into a hard, sensual smile “—you are mine.”

CHAPTER TWO

BREE’S heart stopped in her chest.

As Vladimir turned away, she struggled to wake up from this bad dream. She looked down at her overturned card on the table. The king of hearts looked back at her. Bree should have won. She was supposed to win. Her brain whirled in confusion.

“Wake up,” she whispered to herself. But it wasn’t a dream.

She’d just sold herself. Forever. To the only man she hated.

Blinking, she looked up tearfully at the young dealer, who she’d thought was her ally. Chris just shook his head. “Wow,” he said in awe. “That was a really stupid bet.”

Bree gripped the edge of the table with trembling hands. Staggering to her feet, she turned on Vladimir savagely. “You cheated!”

From the doorway, he whirled back to face her. “Cheated?”

He went straight toward her, and the crowds parted for him, falling back from his powerful presence and his expression of fury. He looked as cold as a marble statue, like an ancient tsar of perfect masculine beauty, of despotic strength and ruthless cruelty. He reached for her, and she backed away, terrified of the look in his eyes.

Vladimir dropped his hands. His posture relaxed and his voice became a sardonic drawl. “You are the one who cheats, my dear. And you’d best hurry.” He glanced at his platinum watch. “You now only have—nine minutes to pack before I collect my prize.”

She gasped aloud. His prize?

Her body—her soul!

Turning without another word, Vladimir stalked out the door with a warrior’s easy, deadly grace. Everyone in the room, Bree included, remained silent until the door closed behind him. Then the crowd around her burst into noise, and Bree’s knees went weak. She leaned her trembling hands against the table. Her ex-boss was yelling something in her ear: “Nine minutes is too long. I want you out of the Hale Ka’nani in five!”

Greg Hudson looked as if he were dying to slap her across the face. But she knew he couldn’t touch her. Not now. Not ever.

She was Vladimir Xendzov’s property now.

How could she have been so stupid? How?

Bree had never hated herself so much as she did in that moment. She rubbed her eyes, hard. She’d thought she could save her hapless baby sister from the perils of gambling. Instead, she’d proved herself more stupidly naive than Josie had ever been.

The warm, close air in the red-curtained, windowless room suddenly choked her. Pushing past the annoyed blonde who’d stood behind Vladimir’s chair, Bree ran for the exit, past a startled Kai who was guarding the door. She rushed down the hall, past the deserted outdoor bar, into the dark night.

She ran up the hill, trying to focus on the feel of the path beneath her feet, on the hard rhythm of her breathing. But she was counting down her freedom in minutes. Eight. Seven and a half. Seven.

Her right foot stumbled and she slowed to a walk, her breath a rasp in her throat. The moon glowed above her as she reached the apartment building she shared with her sister.

Bree shivered as a warm breeze blew against her clammy skin. Rushing up the open-air stairs of the aged, moss-covered structure, she shook with fear. He would take everything from her. Everything.

She’d been stupid. So stupid. He’d set his trap and she’d walked right into it. And now Josie would be left alone, with no one to watch out for her.

Bree started to reach for the doorknob, then stopped. Her body shook as she remembered the poker chips she’d been so proud to win—all of which she’d left behind. With a choked sob, she covered her face with her hands. How would she ever explain this disaster to Josie?

The door abruptly opened.

“There you are,” Josie said. “I saw you come up the path. Did you manage to …?” But her sister’s hopeful voice choked off when she saw Bree’s face. “Oh,” she whispered. “You … you lost?”

Josie spoke the words as if they were impossible. As if she’d never once thought such a thing could happen. Bree had never lost big like this before—ever. Even tonight, she would have won, if she hadn’t allowed Vladimir to tempt her into one last game. Her hands clenched at her sides. She didn’t know who she hated more at this moment—him or herself.

Him. Definitely him.

“What happened?” Josie breathed.

“The stranger was Vladimir,” Bree said through dry lips. “The man who kicked you out of the game was Vladimir Xendzov.”

Josie stared at her blankly. But of course—she’d been only twelve when their father had died, and Bree had set her sights on the twenty-five-year-old businessman with a small mining company, who’d returned to Alaska to try to buy back his family’s land. She’d hoped to con him out of enough cash to pay off the dangerous men who’d tracked them down and were demanding repayment of the money Black Jack and Bree had once stolen.

She’d fallen for Vladimir instead. And Christmas night, when he’d proposed to her, she’d decided to tell him everything. But his brother told him first—and by then, it was in the newspapers. Without a word, he’d abruptly left Alaska, leaving eighteen-year-old Bree and her sister threatened by dangerous men—as well as the sheriff, who’d wanted to toss Bree into jail and Josie into foster care. So they’d thrown everything into their beat-up old car in the middle of the night, and headed south. For the past ten years, they’d never stopped running.

“You lost? At poker?” Josie repeated, dazed. Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bree said tightly.

“Of course it is!”

Josie was clearly miserable. Looking at her little sister’s tearful face, Bree came to a sudden decision. She grabbed her duffel bag.

“Pack,” she said tersely.

Josie didn’t move. Her expression was bewildered. “Where are we going?”

Bree stuffed her passport into her bag, and any clean clothes she could reach. “Airport. You have two minutes.”

“Oh, my God,” Josie breathed, staring at her. “You want to run. What on earth did you lose?”

“Move!” Bree barked.

Jumping, her sister turned and grabbed her knapsack. A scant hundred seconds later, Bree was pulling on her hand and yanking her toward the door.

“Hurry.” She flung open the door. “We’ll get our last paychecks and—”

Vladimir stood across the open-air hallway. His broad-shouldered, powerful body leaned casually against the wall in the shadows.

“Going somewhere?” he murmured silkily.

Bree stopped short, staring up in shock. Behind her, Josie ran into her back with a surprised yelp.

He lifted a dark eyebrow and gave Bree a cold smile. “I had a feeling you would attempt to cheat me. But I admit I’m disappointed. Some part of me had hoped you might have changed over the last ten years.”

Other hulking shadows appeared on the stairs. He hadn’t come alone.

Desperately, Bree tossed her head and glared at him defiantly. “How do you know I wasn’t just hurrying to be on time to meet you in the lobby?”

Vladimir’s smile became caustic. “Hurrying to meet me? No. Ten years ago you could barely be on time for anything. You’d have been late to my funeral.”

“Oh, I’d be early for your funeral, believe me! Holding flowers and red balloons!”

His blue eyes gleamed as he came toward her in the shadows. She felt Josie quivering behind her, so as he reached for her, Bree forced herself not to flinch or back away.

“People don’t change,” he said softly. He pulled the duffel bag from her shoulder. Unzipping it, he turned away from her, and she exhaled. Then, as he went through the bag, she glared at him.

“What do you think I have in there—a rifle or something? Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through other people’s stuff?”

“A woman like you doesn’t need a rifle. You have all the feminine weapons you need. Beauty. Seduction. Deceit.” Vladimir gazed at her with eyes dark as a midnight sea. His handsome, chiseled face seemed made of granite. “A pity your charms don’t work on me.”

As she looked at him, her throat tightened. She whispered, “If you despise me so much, just let me go. Easier for you. Easier for everyone.”

His lips curved. “Is that the final item on your checklist?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve tried running, insulting me, accusing me of cheating, and now you’re reasoning with me.” Zipping up the bag, he pushed it back into her arms and looked at her coldly. “What’s next—begging for mercy?”

She held the bag over her heart like a shield. “Would it work?” she breathed. “If I begged you—on my knees—would you let me go?”

Reaching out, Vladimir cupped her cheek. He looked down at her almost tenderly. “No.”

She jerked her chin away. “I hate you!”

Vladimir gave a low, bitter laugh. “So you did have a checklist. It’s fascinating, really, how little you’ve changed.”

If only that were true, Bree thought. She didn’t have a plan. She was going on pure instinct. Ten years of living a scrupulously honest life, of scraping to get by on minimum-wage jobs, and taking care of her sister, had left Bree’s old skills of sleight of hand and deception laughably out-of-date. She was rusty. She was clumsy and awkward.

And Vladimir made it worse. He brought out her weakness. She couldn’t hide her feelings, even though she knew it would be to her advantage to cloak her hatred. But he’d long ago learned the secret ways past the guarded walls of her heart.

“You can’t be serious about making me your slave forever!” she snapped.

“What?” Josie gasped, clinging to her arm.

Vladimir’s eyes were hard in the moonlight. “You made the bet. Now you will honor it.”

“You tricked me!”

He gave her a lazy smile. “You thought that dealer was going to stick his neck out for you, didn’t you? But men don’t sacrifice themselves for women anymore. Not even for pretty ones.” He moved closer to her, leaning his head down to her ear. “I know all your tells, Bree,” he whispered. “And soon … I will know every last secret of your body.”

Bree felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, felt the brush of his lips against the tender flesh of her earlobe. Prickles raced through her, making her hair stand on end as he towered over her. She felt tiny and feminine compared to his powerful masculine strength, and against her will, she licked her lips as a shiver went down her body.