Читать книгу A Reputation For Revenge - Дженни Лукас, Jennie Lucas - Страница 6

TWO DAYS AFTER Christmas, in the soft pink Honolulu dawn, Josie Dalton stood alone on a deserted sidewalk and tilted her head to look up, up, up to the top of the skyscraper across the street, all the way to his penthouse in the clouds.

She exhaled. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t. Marry him? Impossible.

Except she had to.

I’m not scared, Josie repeated to herself, hitching her tattered backpack higher on her shoulder. I’d marry the devil himself to save my sister.

But the truth was she’d never really thought it would come to this. She’d assumed the police would ride in and save the day. Instead, the police in Seattle, then Honolulu, had laughed in her face.

“Your older sister wagered her virginity in a poker game?” the first said incredulously. “In some kind of lovers’ game?”

“Let me get this straight. Your sister’s billionaire ex-boyfriend won her?” The second scowled. “I have real crimes to deal with, Miss Dalton. Get out of here before I decide to arrest you for illegal gambling.”

Now, Josie shivered in the cool, wet dawn. No one was coming to save Bree. Just her.

She narrowed her eyes. Fine. She should take responsibility. She was the one who’d gotten Bree into trouble in the first place. If Josie hadn’t stupidly accepted her boss’s invitation to the poker game, her sister wouldn’t have had to step in and save her.

Clever Bree, six years older, had been a childhood card prodigy and a con artist in her teens. But after a decade away from that dangerous life, working instead as an honest, impoverished housekeeper, her sister’s card skills had become rusty. How else to explain the fact that, instead of winning, Bree had lost everything to her hated ex-boyfriend with the turn of a single card?

Vladimir Xendzov had separated the sisters, forcibly sending Josie back to the mainland on his private jet. She’d spent her last paycheck to fly back, desperate to get Bree out of his clutches. For forty-four hours now, since the dreadful night of the game, Josie had only managed to hold it together because she knew that, should everything else fail, she had one guaranteed fallback plan.

But now she actually had to fall back on the plan, it felt like falling on a sword.

Josie looked up again at the top of the skyscraper. The windows of the penthouse gleamed red, like fire, above the low-hanging clouds of Honolulu.

She’d caused her sister to lose her freedom. She would save her—by selling herself in marriage to Vladimir Xendzov’s greatest enemy.

His younger brother.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, she repeated to herself. And, considering the way the Xendzov brothers had tried to destroy each other for the past ten years, Kasimir Xendzov must be her new best friend. Right?

A lump rose in her throat.

I would marry the devil himself…

Slowly, Josie forced her feet off the sidewalk. Her legs wobbled as she crossed the street. She dodged a passing tour bus, flinching as it honked angrily.

There was no backing out now.

“Can I help you?” the doorman said inside the lobby, eyeing her messy ponytail, wrinkled T-shirt and cheap flip-flops.

Josie licked her dry lips. “I’m here to get married. To one of your residents.”

He didn’t bother to conceal his incredulity. “You? Are going to marry someone who lives here?”

She nodded. “Kasimir Xendzov.”

His jaw dropped. “You mean His Highness? The prince?” he spluttered, gesticulating wildly. “Get out of here before I call the police!”

“Look, please just call him, all right? Tell him Josie Dalton is here and I’ve changed my mind. My answer is now yes.”

“Call him? I’ll do nothing of the sort.” The doorman pinched his nose with his thumb and finger. “You must be delusional… if you think you can just walk in off the street…”

Josie rummaged through her backpack.

“His Highness’s presence here is secret. He is here on vacation…”

“See?” she said desperately, holding out a business card. “He gave me this three days ago. When he proposed to me. At a salad bar near Waikiki.”

“Salad bar,” the doorman snorted. “As if the prince would ever…” He saw the embossed seal, and snatched the card from her hand. Turning over the card, he read the hard masculine scrawl on the back: For when you change your mind. “But you’re not his type,” he said faintly.

“I know,” Josie sighed. Twenty pounds overweight, frumpy and unstylish, she was painfully aware that she was no man’s type. Fortunately Kasimir Xendzov wished to marry her for reasons that had nothing to do with love—or even lust. “Just call him, will you?”

The man reached for the phone on his desk. He dialed. Turning away, he spoke in a low voice. A few moments later, he faced Josie with an utterly bewildered expression.

“His bodyguard says you’re to go straight up,” he said in shock. He pointed his finger towards an elevator. “Thirty-ninth floor. And, um, congratulations, miss.”

“Thank you,” Josie murmured, tugging her knapsack higher on her shoulder as she turned away. She felt the doorman watching her as she crossed the elegant lobby, her flip-flops echoing against the marble floor. She numbly got on the elevator. On the thirty-ninth floor, the door opened with a ding. Cautiously, she crept out into a hallway.

“Welcome, Miss Dalton.” Two large, grim-looking bodyguards were waiting for her. In a quick, professional motion, one of them frisked her as the other one rifled through her bag.

“What are you checking for?” Josie said with an awkward laugh. “You think I would bring a hand grenade? To a wedding proposal?”

The bodyguards did not return her smile. “She’s clear,” one of them said, and handed her back the knapsack. “Please go in, Miss Dalton.”

“Um. Thanks.” Looking at the imposing door, she clutched her bag against her chest. “He’s in there?”

He nodded sternly. “His Highness is expecting you.”

Josie swallowed hard. “Right. I mean, great. I mean…” She turned back to them. “He’s a good guy, right? A good employer? He can be trusted?”

The bodyguards stared back at her, their faces impassive.

“His Highness is expecting you,” the first one repeated in an expressionless voice. “Please go in.”

“Okay.” You robot, she added silently, irritated.

Whatever. She didn’t need reassurance. She’d just listen to her intuition. To her heart.

Which meant Josie was really in trouble. There was a reason her dying father had left her a large parcel of Alaskan land in an unbreakable trust, which she could not receive until she was either twenty-five—three years from now—or married. Even when she was a child, Black Jack Dalton had known his naive, trusting younger daughter needed all the help she could get. To say she could be naive about people was an understatement.

But it’s a good quality, Bree had told her sadly two days ago. I wish I had more of it.

Bree. Josie could only imagine what her older sister was going through right now, as a prisoner of that other billionaire tycoon, Kasimir Xendzov’s brother. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“For Bree,” she whispered, and flung open the penthouse door.

The lavish foyer was empty. Stepping nervously across the marble floor, hearing the echo of her steps, she looked up at a soaring chandelier illuminating the sweeping staircase. This penthouse was like a mansion in the sky, she thought in awe.

Josie’s lips parted when she saw the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Crossing the foyer to the great room, she looked out at the twinkling lights of the still-dark city, and beyond that, pink and orange sunrise sparkling across the Pacific Ocean.

“So… you changed your mind.”

His low, masculine purr came from behind her. She stiffened then, bracing herself, slowly turned around.

Prince Kasimir Xendzov’s incredible good looks still hit her like a fierce blow. He was even more impossibly handsome than she remembered. He was tall, around six foot three, with broad shoulders and a hard-muscled body. His blue eyes were electric against tanned skin and dark hair. The expensive cut of his dark suit and tie, and the gleaming leather of his black shoes spoke of money—while the ruthlessness in his eyes and chiseled jawline screamed power.

In spite of her efforts, Josie was briefly thunderstruck.

Normally, she had no problems talking to people. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as a stranger. But Kasimir left her tongue-tied. No man this handsome had ever paid her the slightest notice. In fact, she wasn’t sure there was any other man on earth with Kasimir’s breathtaking masculine beauty. Looking into his darkly handsome face, she almost forgot to breathe.

“The last time I saw you, you said you’d never marry me.” Kasimir slowly looked her over, from her flip-flops to her jeans and T-shirt. “For any price.”

Josie’s cheeks turned pink. “Maybe I was a bit hasty,” she stammered.

“You threw your drink in my face.”

“It was an accident!” she protested.

He lifted an incredulous dark eyebrow. “You jumped up and ran out of the restaurant.”

“You just surprised me!” Three nights ago, on Christmas Eve, Kasimir had called her at the Hale Ka’nani Hotel, where she was working as a housekeeper. “My sister told me to never talk to you,” she’d blurted out when he introduced himself. “I’m hanging up.”

“Then you’ll miss the best offer of your life,” he’d replied silkily. He’d asked her to meet him at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant near Waikiki Beach. In spite of knowing he was forbidden—or perhaps because of it—she was intrigued by his mysterious proposal. And then she’d been even more shocked to find out he’d meant a real proposal. Marriage.

“You ran away from me,” Kasimir said quietly, taking a step towards her, “as if you were being chased by the devil himself.”

She swallowed.

“Because I did think you were the devil,” she whispered.

His blue eyes narrowed in disbelief. “This is your way of saying you’ll marry me?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she choked out. “You…”

Her throat closed. How could she explain that even though he and his brother had ruined their lives ten years ago, she’d still been electrified by Kasimir’s bright blue eyes when he’d asked her to marry him? How to explain that, even though she knew it was only to get his hands on her land, she’d been overwhelmed by too many years of yearning for some man, any man, to notice her—and that she’d been tempted to blurt out Yes, betraying all her ideals about love and marriage?

How could she possibly explain such pathetic, naive stupidity? She couldn’t.

“Why did you change your mind?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you need the money?”

They did need to pay off the dangerous men who’d pursued them for ten years, demanding payment of their dead father’s long-ago debts. But Josie shook her head.

“Then is it the title of princess that you want?”

Josie threw him a startled glance. “Really?”

“Many women dream of it.”

“Not me.” She shook her head with a snort. “Besides, my sister told me your title’s worthless. You might be the grandson of a Russian prince, but it’s not like you actually own any land—”

Whoops. She cut off in midsentence at his glare.

“We once owned hundreds of thousands of acres in Russia,” he said coldly. “And we owned the homestead in Alaska for nearly a hundred years, since my great-grandmother fled Siberia. It is rightfully ours.”

“Sorry, but your brother sold your homestead to my father fair and square!”

He took a step towards her.

“Against my will,” he said softly. “Without my knowledge.”

Josie took an unwilling step back from the icy glitter in his blue eyes. A self-made billionaire, Kasimir Xendzov was known to be a ruthless, heartless playboy whose main interest, even more than dating supermodels or adding to his pile of money, was destroying his older brother, who had cheated him out of their business partnership right before it would have made him hundreds of millions of dollars.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” she lied, “why would I be?”

“There are… rumors about me. That I am more than ruthless. That I am—” he tilted his head, his blue eyes bright “—half-insane, driven mad by my hunger for revenge.”

Her mouth went dry. “It’s not true.” She gulped, then said weakly, “Um, is it?”

He gave a low, threatening laugh. “If it were, I would hardly admit it.” He turned away, pacing a step before he looked back at her. “So you’ve changed your mind. But has it occurred to you,” he said softly, “that I might have changed my mind about marrying you?”

Josie looked up with an intake of breath. “You—wouldn’t!”

He shrugged. “Your rejection of me three days ago was definitive.”

Fear, real fear, rushed through Josie’s heart. She’d gambled her last money to come here. Without Kasimir’s help, Bree would be lost. She’d be Vladimir Xendzov’s possession. His slave. Forever. Her shoulders felt tight as hot tears rushed behind her eyes. Desperately, she grabbed his arm.

“No—please! You said you’d do anything to get the land back. You said you made a promise to your dying father. You—” She frowned, suddenly distracted by the hard muscle of his biceps. “Jeez, how much weight lifting do you do?”

He looked at her. Blushing, she dropped his arm. She took a deep breath.

“Just tell me. Do you still want to marry me?”

Kasimir’s handsome face was impassive. “I need to understand your reason. If it’s not to be a princess…”

She gave a choked laugh. “As if I’d marry someone for a worthless title!”

His dark eyebrow lifted. “For your information, my title isn’t worthless. It’s an asset. You’d be surprised how many people are impressed by it.”

“You mean you use it as a shameless marketing tool for your business interests.”

His lips curved with amusement. “So you do understand.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to bow.”

“I don’t want you to bow.” He looked up, his blue eyes intent. “I just want you to marry me. Right now. Today.”

Staring at his gorgeous face, Josie’s heart stopped. “So you do still want to marry me?”

He gave her a slow-rising smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Of course I want to marry you. It’s all I’ve wanted.”

He was looking down at her… as if he cared.

Of course he cares, she told herself savagely. He cares about getting his family’s land back. That’s it.

But when he looked at her like that, it was too easy to forget that. Her heart pounded. She felt… desired.

Josie tried to convince herself she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel a strange tangle of tension and breathless need. She didn’t.

Kasimir reached out a hand to touch her cheek. “But tell me what changed your mind.”

The warm sensuality of his fingers against her skin made her tremble. No man had touched her so intimately. His fingertips were calloused—clearly he was accustomed to hard work—but they were tapered, sensitive fingers of a poet.

But Prince Kasimir Xendzov was no poet. Trembling, she looked down at his strong wrist, at his tanned, thick forearm laced with dark hair. He was a fighter. A warrior. He could crush her with one hand.

“Josie.”

“My sister,” she whispered, then stopped, her throat dry.

“Bree changed your mind?” Dropping his hand, he walked around her. “I find that hard to believe.”

She took a deep breath.

“Your brother kidnapped her,” she choked out. “I want you to save her.”

She waited for him to express shock, elation, rage, something. But his expression didn’t change.

“You…” He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. Vladimir kidnapped her?”

She bit her lip, then her shoulders slumped. “Well, I guess technically,” she said in a small voice, “you could say she wagered herself to him in a card game. And lost.”

His lip curled. “It was a lovers’ game. No woman would wager herself otherwise.” His eyes narrowed. “My brother always had a weakness for her. After ten years apart, they’re no doubt deliriously happy they’ve made up their quarrel.”

“Are you crazy?” she cried. “Bree hates him!”

“What!”

Josie shook her head. “He forced her to go with him.”

His handsome face suddenly looked cheerful. “I see.”

“And it’s all my fault.” A lump rose in her throat, and she covered her eyes. “The night after you proposed, my boss invited me to join a private poker game. I hoped I could win enough to pay off my father’s old debts, and I snuck out while Bree was sleeping.” She swallowed. “She never would have let me go. She forbade me ever to gamble, plus she didn’t trust Mr. Hudson.”

“Why?”

“I think it was mostly the way he hired us from Seattle, sight unseen, with one-way plane tickets to Hawaii. At the time, we were both too desperate to care, but…” She sighed. “She was right. There was something kind of… weird about it. But I didn’t listen.” She lifted her tearful gaze to his. “Bree lost everything on the turn of a single card. Because of me.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “And you think I can save her.”

“I know you can. You’re the only one powerful enough to stand up to him. The only one on earth willing to battle with Vladimir Xendzov. Because you hate him the most.” She took a deep breath. “Please,” she whispered. “You can take my land. I don’t care. But if you don’t save Bree, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.”

Kasimir stared at her for a long moment.

“Here.” He reached for the heavy backpack on her shoulder. “Let me take that.”

“You don’t need to—”

“You’re swaying on your feet,” he said softly. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days. No wonder. Flying to Seattle and back…”

Without her bag weighing her down, she felt so light she almost felt dizzy. “I told you I went to Seattle?”

He froze, then relaxed as he looked back at her. “Of course you did,” he said smoothly. “How else would I know?”

Yes, indeed, how would he? After almost no sleep for two days, she was starting to get confused. Rubbing her cheek with her shoulder, she confessed, “I am a little tired. And thirsty.”

“Come with me. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted out, not moving.

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

“It always seems that the more handsome a man is, the more of a jerk he is. And you are very, very…”

Their eyes locked, and her throat cut off. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Never mind.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Whatever your sister might have told you about me, I’m not the devil. But I am being remiss in my manners. Let’s get you that drink.”

Carrying her backpack over his shoulder, he turned down the hallway. Josie watched him go, her eyes tracing the muscular shape of his back beneath his jacket and chiseled rear end.

Then she shook her head, irritated with herself. Why did she have to blurt out every single thought in her head? Why couldn’t she just show discipline and quiet restraint, like Bree? Why did she have to be such a goofball all the time, the kind of girl who’d start conversations with random strangers on any topic from orchids to cookie recipes, then give them her bus money?

This time wasn’t my fault, she thought mutinously, following him down the hall. He was far too handsome. No woman could possibly manage sensible thinking beneath the laser-like focus of those blue eyes!

Kasimir led her to a high-ceilinged room lined with leather-bound books on one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city on the other. Tossing her backpack on a long table of polished inlaid wood, he walked over to the wet bar on the other side of the library. “What will you have?”

“Tap water, please,” she said faintly.

He frowned back at her. “I have sparkling mineral water. Or I could order coffee…”

“Just water. With ice, if you want to be fancy.”

He returned with a glass.

“Thanks,” she said. She glugged down the icy, delicious water.

He watched her. “You’re an unusual girl, Josie Dalton.”

Unusual didn’t sound good. She wiped her mouth. “I am?” she echoed uncertainly, lowering the glass.

“It’s refreshing to be with a woman who makes absolutely no effort to impress me.”

She snorted. “Trying to impress you would be a waste of time. I know a man like you would never be interested in a girl like me—not genuinely interested,” she mumbled.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes breathtaking.

“You’re selling yourself short,” he said softly, and Josie felt it again—that strange flash of heat.

She swallowed. “You’re being nice, but I know there’s no point in pretending to be something I’m not.” She sighed. “Even if I sometimes wish I could.”

“Unusual. And honest.” Turning, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a short glass of amber-colored liquid. He returned, then took a slow, thoughtful sip.

“All right. I’ll get your sister back for you,” he said abruptly.

“You will!” If there was something strange about his tone, Josie was too weak with relief to notice. “When?”

“After we’re wed. Our marriage will last until the land in Alaska is legally transferred to me.” He looked straight into her eyes. “And I’ll bring her to you, and set you both free. Is that what you want?”

Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes,” she cried.

Setting down his drink on the polished wooden table, he held out his hand. “Deal.”

Slowly, she reached out her hand. She felt the hot, calloused hollow of his palm, felt his strong fingers interlace with hers. A tremble raced through her. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to his handsome face, to those electric-blue eyes, and it was like staring straight at the sun.

“I hope it won’t be too painful for you,” she stammered, “being married to me.”

His hand tightened over hers. “As you’ll be my only wife, ever,” he said softly, “I think I’ll enjoy you a great deal.”

“Your only wife ever?” Her brow furrowed. “That seems a little pessimistic of you. I mean—” she licked her lips awkwardly “—I’m sure you’ll meet someone someday…”

Kasimir gave a low, humorless laugh.

“Josie, my sweet innocent one—” he looked at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes “—you are the answer to my every prayer.”

Prince Kasimir Xendzov hadn’t started the feud ten years ago with his brother.

As a child, he’d idolized Vladimir. He’d been proud of his older brother, of his loving parents, of his family, of his home. Their great-grandfather had been one of the last great princes of Russia, before he’d died fighting for the White Army in Siberia, after sending his beloved wife and baby son to safety in Alaskan exile. Since then, for four generations, the Xendzovs had lived in self-sufficient poverty on an Alaskan homestead far from civilization. To Kasimir, it had been an enchanted winter kingdom.

But his older brother had hated the isolation and uncertainty—growing their own vegetables, canning them for winter, hunting rabbits for meat. He’d hated the lack of electricity and indoor plumbing. As Kasimir had played, battling with sticks as swords and jousting against the pine trees, Vladimir had buried his nose in business books and impatiently waited for their twice-a-year visits to Fairbanks. “Someday, I’ll have a better life,” he’d vowed, cursing as he scraped ice off the inside window of their shared room. “I’ll buy clothes instead of making them. I’ll drive a Ferrari. I’ll fly around the world and eat at fine restaurants.”

Kasimir, two years younger, had listened breathlessly. “Really, Volodya?” But though he’d idolized his older brother, he hadn’t understood Vladimir’s restlessness. Kasimir loved their home. He liked going hunting with their father and listening to him read books in Russian by the wood-burning stove at night. He liked chopping wood for their mother, feeling the roughness of an ax handle in his hand, and having the satisfaction of seeing the pile of wood climb steadily against the side of the log cabin. To him, the wild Alaskan forest wasn’t isolating. It was freeing.

Home. Family. Loyalty. Those were the things Kasimir cared about.

Right after their father died unexpectedly, Vladimir got news he’d been accepted to the best mining college in St. Petersburg, Russia. Their widowed mother had wept with joy, for it had been their father’s dream. But with no money for tuition, Vladimir had put off school and gone to work at a northern mine to save money.

Two years later, Kasimir had applied to the same college for one reason: he felt someone had to watch his brother’s back. He didn’t expect that he’d have the money to leave Alaska for many years, so he’d been surprised tuition money for them both was suddenly found.

It was only later he’d discovered Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell their family’s last precious asset, a jeweled necklace hundreds of years old that had once belonged to their great-grandmother, to a collector.

He’d felt betrayed, but he’d tried to forgive. He’d told himself that Vladimir had done it for their good.

Right after college, Kasimir had wanted to return to Alaska to take care of their mother, who’d become ill. Vladimir convinced him that they should start their own business instead, a mining business. “It’s the only way we’ll be sure to always have money to take care of her.” Instead, when the banks wouldn’t loan them enough money, Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell the six hundred and thirty-eight acres that had been in the Xendzov family for four generations—ever since Princess Xenia Petrovna Xendzova had arrived on Alaskan shores as a heartbroken exile, with a baby in her arms.

Kasimir had been furious. For the first time, he’d yelled at his brother. How could Vladimir have done such a thing behind his back, when he knew Kasimir had made a fervent deathbed promise to their father never to sell their land for any reason?

“Don’t be selfish,” Vladimir said coldly. “You think Mom could do all the work of the homestead without us?” And the money had in part paid for their mother to spend her last days at a hospice in Fairbanks. Kasimir’s heart still twisted when he thought of it. His eyes narrowed.

The real reason they’d lost their home had been Vladimir’s need to secure the most promising mining rights. What mattered: a younger brother’s honor, a mother’s home, or his need to establish their business with good cash flow and the best equipment?

“Don’t worry,” his brother had told him carelessly. “Once we’re rich, you can easily buy it back again.”

Kasimir set his jaw. He should have cut off all ties with his brother then and there. Instead, after their mother died, he’d felt more bound than ever to his brother—his only family. They strove for a year to build their business partnership, working eighteen-hour days in harsh winter conditions. Kasimir had been certain they’d soon earn their first big payout, and buy their home back again.

He hadn’t known that Black Jack Dalton, the land’s buyer, had put the land in an irrevocable trust for his child. Or that, as recompense for Kasimir’s loyalty, hard work and honesty, at the end of that year Vladimir would cut him out of the partnership and cheat him out of his share of half a billion dollars.

Now, even though Kasimir had long since built up his own billion-dollar mining company, his body still felt tight with rage whenever he remembered how the brother he’d adored had stabbed him in the back. Even once Kasimir regained the land, he knew it would never feel like home. Because he’d never be that same loyal, loving, idealistic, stupid boy again.

No. Kasimir hadn’t started the feud with his brother.

But he would end it.

“I’m the answer to your prayer?” a sweet, feminine voice said, sounding puzzled. “How?”

Kasimir’s eyes focused on Josie Dalton, standing in front of him in the library of his Honolulu penthouse.

Her brown eyes were large and luminous, fringed with long black lashes—but he saw the weary gray shadows beneath. Her skin was smooth and creamy—but pale, and smudged on one cheek with dust. Her mouth was full and pink—but the lower lip was chapped, as if she’d spent the last two days chewing on it in worry. Her light brown hair, which he could imagine thick and lustrous tumbling down her shoulders, was half pulled up in a disheveled ponytail.

Josie Dalton was not beautiful—no. But she was attractive in her own way, all youth and dewy innocence and overblown curves. He cut off the thought. He did not intend to let himself explore further.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted our land back for a long time.” His voice was low and gravelly, even to his own ears. “I’ll make the arrangements for our wedding at once.”

“What kind of arrangements?” She bit her lip anxiously, her soft brown eyes wide. “You don’t mean a—a honeymoon?”

He looked at her sharply. She blushed. Her pink cheeks looked very charming. Who blushed anymore? “No. I don’t mean a honeymoon.”

“Good.” Her cheeks burned red as she licked her lips. “I’m glad. I mean, I know this is a marriage in name only,” she said hastily, holding up her hand. “And that’s the only reason I could agree to…”

Her voice trailed off. Looking down, he caught her staring at his lips.

She was so unguarded, so innocent, he thought in wonder. Soft, pretty. Virginal. It would be very easy to seduce her.

Fortunately, she wasn’t his type. His typical mistress was sleek and sophisticated. She lavished hours at the salon and the gym as though it was her full-time job. Véronique, in Paris. Farah, in Cairo. Oksana, in Moscow. Exotic women who knew how to seduce a man, who kept their lips red and their eyes lined with kohl, who greeted him at the door in silk lingerie and always had his favorite vodka chilled in the freezer. They welcomed him quickly into bed and spoke little, and even then, they never quite said what they meant. They were easy to slide into bed with.

And more importantly: they were very easy to leave.

Josie Dalton, on the other hand, expressed every thought—and if she forgot to say anything with words, her face said it anyway. She wore no makeup and clearly saw her hair as a chore, rather than an asset. In that baggy T-shirt and jeans, she obviously had no interest in fashion, or even in showing her figure to its best effect.

But Kasimir was glad she wasn’t trying to lure him. Because he had no intention of seducing her. It would only complicate things that didn’t need to be complicated. And it would hurt a tenderhearted young woman whom he didn’t want to hurt—at least not more than he had to.

No. He was going to treat Josie Dalton like gold.

“So what other… arrangements… are you talking about?” she said haltingly. She lifted her chin, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “Maybe a wedding cake?”

This time, he really did laugh. “You want a cake?”

“I do love a good wedding cake, with buttercream-frosting roses…” she said wistfully.

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he said gravely.

Her expression drooped, and she shook her head with a sigh. “But I’d better not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.”

“Do I look like I watch my weight?” she snapped, then flushed guiltily. “Sorry. I’m a little grumpy. My flight ran out of meals before they reached my aisle, and I haven’t eaten for twelve hours. I would have bought something at the airport but I only have three dollars and thought maybe I should save it.”

Her voice trailed off. Kasimir had already turned away, crossing to the desk. He pressed the intercom button.

“Sir?”

“Send up a breakfast plate.”

“Two, Your Highness?”

“Just one. But make it full and make it quick.” He glanced back at Josie. “Anything special you’d like to eat, Miss Dalton?”

She gaped back at him, her mouth open.

He turned back to the intercom and said smoothly, “Just send everything you’ve got.”

“Of course, sir.”

Taking her unresisting hand, Kasimir led her to the soft blue sofa and sat beside her. She stared at him, apparently mesmerized, as if he’d done something truly shocking by simply ordering her some breakfast when she said she was hungry.

“You were saying,” he prompted.

“I was?”

“Wedding cake. Why you don’t want it.”

“Right.” Ripping her hand away nervously, she squared her shoulders and said in a firm voice, “This is just a business arrangement, so there’s no point to wedding cake. Or a wedding dress. I think it’s best for both of us—” she looked at him sideways, not quite meeting his eyes “—to keep our marriage on a strictly professional basis.”

“As you wish.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You are the bride. You are the boss.”

She swallowed, turning her head to look at him nervously. “I am?”

He smiled. “I know that much about how a wedding works.”

“Oh.” Josie’s face was the color of roses and cream as she chewed on her full, pink bottom lip. “You’re being very, um—” her voice faltered and seemed to stumble “—nice to me.”

Kasimir’s smile twisted. “Will you stop saying that.”

“But it’s true.”

“I’m being strictly professional, just as you said. Courtesy is part of business.”

“Oh.” She considered this, then slowly nodded. “In that case…”

“I’m glad you agree.” He wondered if she would still accuse him of kindness if she knew the truth about what he intended to do with her. Or exactly why she was the answer to his prayer.

An hour ago, he’d been on the phone in his home office, barely listening to his VP of acquisitions drone on about how they could sabotage Vladimir’s imminent takeover of Arctic Oil. He’d been too busy thinking about how his own recent plan to embarrass his brother had blown up in his face.

Kasimir had long despised Bree Dalton, the con artist he blamed for the first rift between the brothers ten years ago. All this time, he’d kept track of her from a distance, waiting for her to go back to her old ways (she hadn’t) or to agree to let Josie marry him to get the land (she wouldn’t, and he could go to hell for asking).

Kasimir had finally decided to try another way: Josie herself.

Until they’d met at the Salad Shack a few days ago, all he’d known of Josie was in a file from a private investigator, with a grainy photograph. Six months ago in Seattle, the man had tested her by dropping a wallet full of cash in the aisle of a grocery store in front of her. Josie had run two blocks after the man’s car, catching up with him at a stoplight, to breathlessly give the wallet back, untouched. “Girl’s so honest, she’s a nut,” the investigator had grumbled.

So finally, Kasimir had come to a decision. Knowing his brother was recuperating from a recent car-racing injury in Oahu with a private weekly poker game at the Hale Ka’nani, he’d bribed the general manager of the resort, Greg Hudson, to hire the Dalton sisters as housekeepers. He’d hoped Vladimir would have a run-in with Bree Dalton, causing him a humiliating scene, but that was just an amusement. Kasimir’s real goal in coming here had been to try to negotiate for the land, and the requisite marriage, directly with Josie Dalton.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d flung her soda at him and run out. Or that, according to the report he’d gotten from Greg Hudson, not only had there been no screaming match between Vladimir and Bree, they’d apparently fallen into each other’s arms at the poker game. Bree had won back the entire amount of her sister’s wager, then promptly accepted Vladimir’s offer to a single-card draw between them—a million dollars versus possession of Bree.

Reintroducing the formerly engaged couple to happiness after ten years of estrangement, had never been Kasimir’s plan. For the past day and a half, he’d been grinding his teeth in fury. He’d spent last night dancing at a club, women hitting on him right and left, until even that started to irritate him, and he’d gone home early—and alone.

Then, like a miracle, he’d been woken from sleep with the news that Josie Dalton was here and wished to marry him after all.

And now, here she was. He had her. She’d just changed his whole world—forever.

He could have kissed her.

“I will be happy to get you a cake,” he said fervently. “And a designer wedding gown, and a ten-carat diamond ring.” Reaching for her hand, he kissed it, then looked into her eyes. “Just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. He felt her hand tremble in his own before she yanked it away. “Just bring my sister home. Safely away from your brother.”

“You have my word. Soon.” He rose to his feet. “I must call my lawyer. In the meantime, please take some time to rest.” He gestured to the bookshelves of first-edition books. “Read, if you like. Your breakfast will be here at any moment.” He gave a slight bow. “Please excuse me.”

“Kasimir?”

He froze. Had Josie somehow guessed his plans? Was it possible her expressive brown eyes had seen right through his twisted, heartless soul? Hands clenched at his sides, body taut, Kasimir turned back to face her.

Josie’s eyes were shining, her expression bright as a new penny, as she leaned back against the sofa pillows. His gaze traced unwillingly over the patterns on her skin, along the curve of her full breasts beneath her T-shirt, left by the soft morning light.

“Thank you for saving my sister,” she whispered. She took a deep breath. “And me.”

Uneasiness went through him, but he shook it away from his well-armored soul. He gave her a stiff nod. “We will both benefit from this arrangement. Both of us,” he repeated stonily, squashing his conscience like a newly sprouted weed.

“But I’ll never forget it,” she said softly, looking at him with gratitude that approached hero-worship. Her brown eyes glowed, and she was far more beautiful than he’d first realized. “I don’t care what people say. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned away from her. Once he reached his home office, he phoned his chief lawyer to arrange the prenuptial agreement and discuss ways to break Josie’s trust as quickly as possible. The discussion took longer than expected. When Kasimir returned to the library an hour later, he found Josie curled up fast asleep on the sofa, with a cold, untouched breakfast tray on the table beside her.

Kasimir looked down at her. She looked so young, sleeping. Had he ever been that young? She couldn’t be more than twenty-two, eleven years younger than he was, and more stupidly innocent than he’d been at that age. In spite of himself, he felt an unwelcome desire to take care of her. To protect her.

His jaw set. And so he would. For as long as she was his prisoner—that was to say, his wife.

He reached a hand out to wake her, then stopped. He looked down at the gray shadows beneath her eyes. No. Let her sleep. Their wedding could wait a few hours. She deserved a place to rest, a safe harbor. And so he would be for her….

Carefully, he picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her upstairs to the guest room. Without turning on the light, he set her gently on the mattress, beside the blue silk pillows. He stepped back, looking down at her in the shadowy room.

He heard her sweetly wistful voice. I do love a good wedding cake with buttercream-frosting roses.

Kasimir had told her the truth. She would be his only wife. He never intended to have a real marriage. Or trust any human soul enough to give them the ability to stab him in the back. This would be as close as he’d ever get to holy matrimony. For the few brief weeks of the marriage, Josie Dalton would be the closest he’d ever have to a wife. To a family.

He took a deep breath. She’d make an exceptional wife for any man. She was an old-fashioned kind of woman, the kind they didn’t make anymore. From his investigator’s reports, he knew Josie was ridiculously honest and scrupulously kind. Six months ago, a different private investigator had her under surveillance in Seattle. He’d dressed as a homeless street person, which should have rendered him invisible. Not to Josie, though. “She came right up to me to ask if I was all right,” the man reported in amazement, “or if I needed anything. Then she insisted on giving me her brown-bag lunch.” He’d smiled. “Peanut butter and jelly!”

What kind of girl did that? Who had a heart that unjaded and, well—soft?

Unlike Vladimir and Bree, unlike Kasimir himself, Josie deserved to be protected. She was an innocent. She’d done nothing to earn the well-deserved revenge he planned for the other two.

Even though it would still hurt her.

He felt another spasm beneath his solar plexus.

Guilt, he realized in shock. He hadn’t felt that emotion for a long time. He wouldn’t let it stop him. But he’d be as gentle as he could to her.

Turning away from Josie’s sleeping form, he went back downstairs to his home office. He phoned his head secretary, and ten minutes later, he was contacted by Honolulu’s top wedding planner. Afterward, he tossed his phone onto his desk.

Swiveling his chair, he looked out the window overlooking the penthouse’s rooftop pool. Bright sunlight glimmered over the blue water, and beyond that, he could see the city and the distant ocean melting into the blue sky.

For ten years, he’d been wearing Vladimir down, fighting his company tooth and claw with his own, getting his attention the only way he knew how—by making him pay with tiny stings, death by a thousand cuts.

But getting Bree Dalton to betray Vladimir would be the deepest cut of all. The fatal one.

Rising to his feet, Kasimir stood in front of the window, hands tucked behind his back as he gazed out unseeingly towards the Pacific. He’d give his lawyer a few weeks to transfer possession of Josie’s land back to his control. By then, once the two little lovebirds were enmeshed in each other, Kasimir would blackmail Bree into stealing his brother’s company away.

He narrowed his eyes. Bree would crush Vladimir’s heart beneath her boot, and his brother would finally know what it felt like to have someone else change his life, against his will, when Bree betrayed him.

She’d have no choice. Kasimir had all the ammunition he needed to make Bree Dalton do exactly as he wanted. A cold smile crossed his lips.

He had her sister.