Perhaps the man was on vacation. In Russia. In winter. Telling himself he didn’t care, Vladimir turned his chair away, so the man was out of his sight.
Today was the best day Vladimir had had in a long time. Even though leaving subordinates to handle the merger so he could spend time with his mistress was reckless, irresponsible, foolish. Even though he’d likely lose a fortune retaining all the employees of Arctic Oil. Even so.
Instead of feeling guilty, he kept smiling to himself as he recalled how Bree’s eyes sparkled when she was angry at him. The way her body had felt, pressed against his in the mirrored dressing room of the boutique. She was fire and ice. She was life itself.
“Hawaii has changed you completely.” His doctor had been shocked by the test results that morning, when Vladimir stopped on the way to the office. “You’ve recuperated from your injury better than I ever dreamed. Even your blood pressure is improved. What have you been doing? Yoga? Eating bean sprouts? Whatever it is, clean living is making you healthy. Keep it up!”
With a laugh, Vladimir glanced down at his empty vodka glass and half-eaten plate of beef rib eye drenched in sauce. Clean living? No.
Good
living. It wasn’t yoga and bean sprouts. It was laughter, good company and lots of sex.
It was Breanna.
Vladimir shifted impatiently in his chair, craning his head to look past the waiters and candlelit tables toward the wood-paneled hallway. His lips rose in unconscious pleasure when he saw Bree coming back down the hall.
Then a dark figure came out of the shadows to accost her. Seeing Greg Hudson, Vladimir rose to his feet. Bree looked surprised, then angry, as the man spoke to her. Vladimir clenched his jaw as he strode rapidly toward them. Hudson’s eyes went wide when he saw him coming. Turning, he ran out of the restaurant.
“What did he say to you?” Vladimir demanded.
Bree turned with a carefully blank look on her face. Her poker face, he thought, but he could see her lips trembling. Her gaze dropped. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“He...” She licked her lips. “He told me he’s in St. Petersburg to collect a debt, and happened to see me.” Her eyes carefully remained on the gleaming parquet floor. “He said he’s going to be very rich in a few days, and he would pay a lot of money to be my next lover. He wondered if there was some kind of waiting list.”
Anger made Vladimir’s vision red. He started to turn, his hands clenched. “I will kill him.”
“No. Please,” Bree whispered. She put her hand on his arm. “Just take me home.”
People in the restaurant were staring at them, whispering behind their hands. “But we already ordered dessert,” he said tightly. “Chocolate cake. Your favorite.”
“I just want to go.” Her cheeks were red. “And forget this day ever happened.”
Forget this day ever happened? The wonderful day he’d spent with her—the hours he’d spent watching her laugh, telling her the truth, buying her things, trying so hard to please her—as he’d never tried to please any woman? “I don’t want to forget.”
She looked away. “I do.”
Shoulders stiff, Vladimir went across the restaurant and tossed thirty thousand rubles on their table. Getting her leather coat, he wrapped it around her shivering shoulders and led her out into the cold, dark night. As his chauffeur drove their limousine home, Vladimir looked out at the snowy streets of St. Petersburg. It had been the best day of his life, but it had ended with Bree in tears.
He wanted to blame the fat little hotel manager. But he knew there was one person at fault for the way she’d been so crudely insulted as a woman who could be bought and sold at any man’s will.
Vladimir himself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T
HE
next night, Bree paused as she got ready for the New Year’s Eve ball. She looked wanly out the tall curved window of their bedroom.
The wintry Gulf of Finland on the Baltic Sea looked nothing like Hawaii’s warm turquoise waters. It was even worse than Alaska’s frigid sea. Even in the weak, short hours of daylight, the Russian waves were choppy and gray. But the sun had set long ago, and the world was dark. The black, icy water here could suck the life out of you within seconds if you were dumb enough to fall into it.
Kind of like falling in love with a man who would neither love you back nor set you free.
Bree closed her eyes. Yesterday, the workaholic tyrant had been neither workaholic nor a tyrant, playing hooky from work to entertain her. Letting people keep their jobs in his merger. Tipping that saleswoman at the boutique. Getting rid of the men who’d threatened Bree and her little sister. And more.
I’ve never forgotten you, Breanna.
She would never forget the stark vulnerability in his blue eyes.
Or stopped wanting you.
Bree trembled with emotion, remembering. Thank heaven she’d been able to cover her reaction by gulping that nasty-tasting vodka. She should probably be grateful for Greg Hudson, too. His words had brought her back to reality with a snap.
Bleakly, she opened her eyes. She was alone in their bedroom, with one leg propped up on the bed, pulling on sheer black stockings as she got ready for the New Year’s Eve ball. Her beautiful haute-couture princess gown was on the bed, waiting to go over her new black lace bra, panties and garter belt. Vladimir had bought out every expensive store in the city. “I am trying to make you happy,” he’d said. But she couldn’t be bought that way. Only two things could make her happy, and they were the very things he would not or could not give her. Freedom. Love.
I am selfish to the bone. I will never put someone else’s interests ahead of my own.
She couldn’t let herself fall for him. She’d loved him once, and it had nearly killed her. She’d lost everything.
Never again. Unless they were equals, loving him was only a different kind of bondage. Especially since, in the eyes of the world, Bree was nothing more than his whore.
Hadn’t meeting with her ex-boss proved that?
“Well, well, what a pleasant surprise,” Greg Hudson had drawled, stepping into her path in the hallway last night. “If it isn’t the poker-playing maid herself.”
She’d been shocked to see her former boss’s beady eyes and sweaty face. Instead of a tropical shirt, he was dressed in the required jacket and tie, probably borrowed from the restaurant, since they didn’t fit his lumpy body.
“Mr. H-Hudson,” she’d stammered. “What are you doing in St. Petersburg?”
“Call me Greg.” He came closer, crowding her space in the darkened hallway. “I’m here to collect a big debt. Thought I’d celebrate at the best restaurant in town.”
“You left the Hale Ka’nani?”
His expression darkened. “I got fired. The hotel’s owner found out I took a bribe.” He tilted his head, his eyes sly. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I hired you and that sister of yours?”
Bree sucked in her breath as all her old worries came back. “Someone bribed you to hire us? Who?”
Leaning forward, he wheezed, “Even he didn’t think I’d be as successful as I was. In a few days, I’ll be paid, and given a huge bonus. I’ll be rich enough to pay you directly, for services rendered. I want to be on your waiting list. Name your price.” He’d stroked her upper arm, and she’d caught the scent of whiskey, heavy and sour, on his breath before he saw Vladimir and turned away. “Come to me when Xendzov is done with you.”
Bree’s face burned as she remembered the humiliation of that moment. She’d been completely unprepared for it. And even more unprepared for the suspicion that had slithered into her soul ever since.
Who would have paid Greg Hudson to hire the Dalton sisters at the Honolulu resort?
All night Bree had stared up at the bedroom ceiling in the dark gray light, going through countless scenarios in her mind. It could have been one of her father’s old enemies. Or...it could have been Vladimir himself. To make her his prisoner forever, to enjoy at his will.
I’ve never forgotten you, Breanna.
Or stopped wanting you.
She sighed. But that didn’t make sense, either. He’d been surprised to see her. She’d seen it in his face, in his body. He’d had no idea she was in Hawaii.
So who?
Vladimir had been an extraordinarily tender lover last night, but even as he’d made her body shake and gasp with pleasure, her soul had been haunted by the question. Finally, at breakfast that morning, before he’d left for work, he’d stated, “I’m sorry you were insulted last night. It will never happen again.”
“Thank you,” she’d murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. There was no way he could prevent that. If she wasn’t insulted to her face, she’d still be able to see it in people’s eyes.
She was his possession. Nothing more, nothing less.
Now, staring out at the dark, wintry night, Bree felt an ache in her throat. She finished pulling on her stockings, attaching them to her garter belt. If only she had someone to talk to about this. If only she could talk to Josie...
Vladimir’s voice was husky behind her. “Are you ready?”
With an intake of breath, Bree turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, half in silhouette. He looked broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome in a dark, exquisitely cut tuxedo. She tried not to notice. “Have you found Josie?”
“Josie?” he repeated absently. He came toward her, his blue eyes gleaming as they traced slowly down her nearly naked body in the black lace. “Forget the ball. Let’s stay home for New Year’s Eve.”
She felt his gaze against her skin the same as if he’d stroked her with his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she trembled with desire and something more—something that went straight to her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself. “My sister. Have you found her yet?”
He blinked, then his eyes lifted to hers. “Not yet. My investigator did trace her back to Hawaii.”
“Hawaii!” Something was wrong. Bree could feel it. “Why would she go back?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps she forgot something at your old apartment.”
“Spending every penny she owns, just to go back for some old sweater or something?”
Vladimir pressed his lips together. Bree saw him hesitate, then reluctantly say, “Apparently she was trying to get the police to take an interest in your case. But they laughed at her, both in Seattle and Honolulu.” He looked at Bree sideways. “They thought our wager sounded like a lovers’ game between consenting adults.”
“Right.” She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “So where is she now?”
He shook his head. “The trail went cold.”
Josie was missing? Bree opened her mouth, then stopped. Telling him her fears would do no good. She feared it would only set off another tirade from him about how Josie was a grown woman and that Bree should allow her sister to face her own consequences.
And for all she knew, he was right. For ten years, her fears had been on overdrive where Josie was concerned. How was Bree supposed to know when it was rational to worry and when it was not?
“We’ll find her.” Vladimir was watching her. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” she lied.
“Good.” Reaching into his pocket, he held out a flat, black velvet box. “This is for you.”
She flinched when she saw the jewelry box. He’d known she hated the diamond necklace, but
he’d bought it anyway.
The chain of her captivity.
“You went back and bought it,” she said dully.
He glanced at the blue silk ball gown draped across their bed. “It goes with your dress.”
Ice filled her heart, rushing through her like a frozen sea. In spite of all appearances to the contrary yesterday, he didn’t care about her feelings. He wanted to dress her to appear well. Like a show dog on display. “You are too kind.”
A smile curved his sensual mouth, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Open it.”
“You.”
“Don’t you want to see it?”
“No.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her hair. “Just do it,” she choked out.
Bree heard the box snap open. She felt the warmth of his body as he moved to stand behind her. She felt a heavy weight against the bare skin beneath her collarbone. It was surprisingly heavy. Frowning, she opened her eyes.
A simple gold chain hung around her neck, with an enormous green pendant wrapped in gold wire. Shocked, she touched the olive-green jewel, the size of a robin’s egg. “What’s this?”
“It’s a peridot,” he said quietly. “Carved from a meteorite that fell to Siberia in 1749. It once belonged to my great-grandmother.”
Bree’s mouth fell open. “Your—”
“The pendant was a wedding gift from my great-grandfather, before he sent her and their baby son into exile. To Alaska.”
Bree felt the roughness of the peridot beneath her fingertips. The sharp crystalline edges had been worn smooth by time.
“We sold this necklace to a collector, to help pay for college.” He ran a finger along the chain. “It took me years, and a large fortune, to get it back.” He put his hand over the stone, near her heart, and lifted his gaze. “And now it is yours.”
Bree gasped. Feeling the weight of the necklace and the warmth of his hand, she looked down at the stone. In the shadowy bedroom, the facets flashed fire, green like the heart’s blood of a dragon. “I...I can’t possibly keep this.”
“Too late.” Vladimir’s handsome face was expressionless.
“But it’s too valuable.” She swallowed as her fingers stroked the gold chain against her skin. Their hands touched, and she breathed, “Not just the worth of the stone, but the value to your family...”
Drawing back, he said harshly, “It is yours.” He turned away. “Finish getting ready. I will wait for you downstairs.”
She suddenly felt like crying. “Wait!”
He stopped, his back stiff, his hands clenched into fists.
“This should belong to someone you care about,” she whispered. “Someone...someone special.”
He didn’t turn around.
“You are special to me, Breanna,” he said in a low voice. “You always have been.”
She couldn’t just let him leave. Not when he’d proven to her, once and for all, that she was more than a paid concubine. As he headed for the door, she rushed across the room, catching him from behind. Wrapping her arms around his body, she pressed her cheek against his back. “Thank you.”
Slowly he turned around in her arms.
“I need you to know. You are more than just my possession.” His darkly handsome face was stark. Vulnerable. “You are...”
“What?” Her throat ached.
“My lover.”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
Wiping her cheek with his thumb, he said in a low voice, “Come. Get dressed. We don’t want to be late.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t want to miss kissing you at midnight.”
Seeing that boyish, vulnerable smile, her heart twisted. “No. We don’t want to miss that.”
He picked up her silk ball gown from the bed, and she stepped into it. As he pulled it up around her, she felt his fingers brush against her spine. She looked back at him with an intake of breath. His gaze was hungry, his eyes dark as the midnight sea. She should expect more than just a kiss to celebrate the New Year.
She wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t his wife. But perhaps...
Her fingertips ran softly over the necklace that had once belonged to a Russian princess, and a green stone that two hundred and fifty years ago had landed in Siberia from the farthest reaches of space. Perhaps he did care for her, after all.
Could that caring ever turn to something more? To love?
I cannot love.
She heard the echo of his hard voice.
That ability is no longer in me. It died a long time ago.
As Vladimir finished zipping up the ball gown, he turned her to face him. Brushing tendrils of hair from her face, he looked down at her with electric blue eyes. “Are you ready?”
Looking up at his handsome face, Bree tried not to feel anything. But her heart slammed against her ribs.
His forehead furrowed. “Bree?”
She turned away with a lump in her throat. “I, um, need some lipstick.” Going to the mirror, she made her lips bright Chanel red. Lifting the silk hem of her gown, she stepped into her expensive shoes with sparkling crystals decorating the four-inch heels, and took a deep breath. “Ready.”
Downstairs in the foyer, Vladimir took a sharply tailored black coat from the closet, wearing it over his tuxedo. Then he removed a black hanging bag from the closet. He unzipped it. In dismay, Bree saw white fur.
He noted her expression. “Don’t worry. It’s fake.”
Dubiously, she reached out and stroked the soft white fur. “It seems real.”
“Well.” His lips curved in amusement. “It’s
very
expensive. Twice the price of the real thing.” Lifting the white fur coat from the bag, he wrapped it around her bare shoulders. “I can’t have you getting cold,
angel moy,
” he said softly.
“What does that mean?”
“My angel.”
She bit her lip, faltering. “I’m nobody’s angel.”
He smiled. Pulling her close by the lapels of the white faux fur, he looked down at her. His blue eyes crinkled. “Wrong.”
Bree’s heart squeezed so hard and tight she couldn’t breathe. Still smiling, he held out his arm and led her outside into the cold, frosty night.
The limousine whisked them to a small town on the edge of St. Petersburg, to a palace that had once belonged to a Romanov tsarina three hundred years before. Bree’s eyes widened as the road curved and she got her first view of it. With a gasp, she rolled down the window for a better look.
Beneath the frosted winter moon, she saw the palace that had once been a summer getaway for the Russian royal family. The elegant structure, wide and sprawling, looked like a wedding cake, decked with snow. The limo drove up the avenue, past a wide white lawn lit up by flickering torches.