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
B
REE
’
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.
Vladimir straightened, and his eyes glittered like an arctic sea. “This time, you will fulfill your promises.”
He made a small movement with his hand, and the three shadows on the stairs came forward, toward the bare light outside their apartment. Vladimir strode down the steps without looking back, leaving his three bodyguards to corral the two Dalton sisters and escort them down the concrete staircase.
Two luxury vehicles waited in the dimly lit parking lot. The first was a black SUV with tinted windows. The second... Bree’s feet slowed.
“Bree!”
Hearing her sister’s panicked voice behind her, she turned around and saw the bodyguards pushing Josie into the backseat of the SUV.
Bree clenched her hands as she went forward. “Let her go!”
Vladimir grabbed her arm. “You’re coming with me.”
“I won’t be separated from her!”
He looked at her, his face hard and oh, so handsome in the moonlight. “My Lamborghini only has two seats.” When she didn’t move, he said with exaggerated patience, “They will be right behind us.”
Glancing at the SUV parked behind the Lamborghini, Bree saw her sister settled in the backseat as the bodyguards climbed in beside her. Bree ground her teeth. “Why should I trust you?”
“You have no choice.”
He reached for her hand, but she ripped it away. “Don’t touch me!”
Vladimir narrowed his eyes. “I was merely trying to be courteous. Clearly a waste.” He thrust his thumb toward the door of the bright red Lamborghini. “Get in.”
Opening the door, Bree climbed inside the car and took a deep breath of the soft leather seats’ scent. Fast cars had once been her father’s favorite indulgence, back when they’d been conning rich criminals across the West, and Black Jack had been spending money even faster than they made it. By the time her father died of lung cancer, only debts were left. But the smell of the car reminded her of the time when her father had been her hero and their mattresses had been stuffed with money—literally. Unwillingly, Bree ran her hand over the smooth leather.
“Nice car,” she said grudgingly.
With a sudden low laugh, Vladimir started the engine. “It gets me where I need to go.”
At the sound of that laugh, she sucked in her breath.
His laugh...
She’d first heard it at a party in Anchorage, when Vladimir Xendzov was just a mark, half owner of a fledgling mining company, who had come to Alaska looking to buy the land her father had left in an ironclad trust for Josie, then just twelve years old. Bree had been hoping she could distract Vladimir from the legal facts long enough to disappear with his money. Instead, when their eyes met across the room, she’d been electrified. He’d grabbed an extra flute of champagne and come toward her.
“I know who you are,” he’d said.
She’d hid the nervous flutter in her belly. “You do?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “The woman who’s coming home with me tonight.”
For an instant, she’d caught her breath. Then she’d laughed in his face. “Does that line usually work?”
He’d looked surprised, then he’d joined her laughter with his own low baritone. “Yes,” he’d said almost sheepishly. “In fact, it always does.” He’d held out his hand with a grin. “Let’s try this again. I’m Vladimir.”
Now, as his eyes met hers, his expression was like stone. He yanked hard on the wheel of the Lamborghini, pulling the car away from the curb with a squeal of tires. Bree glanced behind them, and saw her sister’s SUV was indeed following them. She exhaled.
She had to think of a way to get out of this prison sentence. She looked at the passing lights of Honolulu. The city sparkled, even in the dead of night.
Deals can always be made.
Her father’s words came back to her.
Just figure out what a man wants most. And find a way to give it to him—or make him think you will.