Читать книгу A Game with One Winner - Lynn Harris Raye - Страница 7

Russian Billionaire Rumored to Be Acquiring Troubled Department Store Chain

SHE WAS HERE. Roman Kazarov knew it as surely as he knew his own name, though he had not yet seen her. The woman at his side made a noise of frustration, a tiny little sound meant to draw his attention back to her. He flicked his gaze over her, and then away again.

Bored. The woman was beautiful, but he was bored. One night in her bed, and he was ready to move on.

Her fingers curled possessively around his arm. He resisted the urge to shake them off. He’d brought her here tonight on impulse. Because Caroline Sullivan-Wells would be here. Not that Caroline would care if he had a woman on his arm. No, she’d made it very clear five years ago that she didn’t care about him in the least.

Had never cared.

Once, her rejection had cut him to the bone. Now, he felt nothing. Nothing but cold determination. He’d returned to New York a far different man than he’d left it five years ago.

A rich man. A ruthless man.

A man with a single goal.

Before the month was out, he would own Sullivan’s, the luxury chain of department stores founded by her family. It was the culmination of everything he’d worked so hard for, the symbolic cherry on top of the ice-cream sundae. He did not need Sullivan’s, but he wanted it. Once, he’d been an acolyte at the feet of Frank Sullivan. And then he’d been unceremoniously tossed out, his work visa terminated, his dreams of providing a better life for his family back home in Russia shattered.

All he’d dared to do was fall in love with Caroline, but that one act had been the same as strapping on wings made of wax and flying too close to the sun. He’d fallen far and fast.

But now he was back. And there was nothing Caroline or her father could do about what he’d set in motion.

As if in answer to some hidden command, the crowd parted to reveal a woman standing on the other side of the room. She was deep in conversation. The glow from the Waterford chandelier overhead shone down in just such a way that it appeared to single her out, wreathing her golden-blond head and milky skin in a nimbus of pale light.

Roman’s gut clenched. She was still beautiful, still ethereal. And she still affected him, which only served to anger him further. He had not expected it, this jolt of remembered lust and bittersweet joy. He stood there and willed the feeling away until he could look at her coldly, critically.

Yes, much better. That was what he wanted to feel—disgust. Hatred.

His jaw tightened. She chose that moment to look up, almost as if she’d sensed something was wrong, as if there was a disturbance in her well-ordered circle of friends. There was a crease in the smooth skin over her hazel eyes, as if she was annoyed at being interrupted.

But then she saw him. Her eyes widened, her pink lips dropping open. She put a hand to her chest, then thought better of it and dropped it to her side—but not before he saw how he affected her. For a long moment, neither of them looked away. She broke the contact first, saying something to the person she’d been talking to, before she turned and fled through a door behind her.

Roman stiffened. He should feel triumphant, yet he strangely felt as if she’d rejected him again. As if his world were about to come crashing down just as it had five years ago. But that was not possible, not any longer. He had the upper hand now. He was the victor, the conqueror.

And yet bitterness coiled inside him, twisting and writhing on the floor of his soul, reminding him of how far he’d fallen, and how hard. Reminding him of how much that fall had cost him before he’d been able to pull himself up again.

“Darling,” the woman at his side said, drawing his attention from the door through which Caroline had disappeared, “can you fetch me a drink?”

Roman gazed down at her. She was pretty, spoiled, an actress with a face and body that usually drove men wild. She was used to commanding attention, to having her whims obeyed without question.

But what she saw in his face must have given her pause. She took a step back, her fingers sliding over the sleek fabric of his bespoke tuxedo. She was already calculating, already trying to recover from her mistake.

Too late.

“I do not fetch,” he told her coolly. And then he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and pressed them into her hand. “Enjoy yourself for as long as you wish. When you are finished, take a cab home.”

She reached for him as he turned. “You’re leaving me?”

Her eyes were wide, her confidence in her beauty shaken. He would have felt sorry for her, except that he was certain loads of interested men would swarm around her as soon as he walked away. Roman took her hand from his sleeve, lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “It is not meant to be, maya krasavitsa. You will find another who deserves you.”

And then he left her standing alone as he went in search of another woman. A woman who would not escape him this time.

Caroline took the elevator down to the first floor and hurried out to the sidewalk. Her heart hammered in her head, her throat, and she clutched her wrap to her body and tried to breathe evenly. Roman.

She blinked back the sudden tears that hovered, and gave the doorman a shaky smile when he asked if she’d like a taxi.

“Yes, please,” she said, her voice a touch breathless from her flight. Of all the people to be in that room tonight. And yet she should have expected him, shouldn’t she? She’d read that he was back in town. The newspapers couldn’t seem to leave the subject of Roman Kazarov alone. Or his mission.

Caroline’s fingers tightened on the silk wrap. It would be hopelessly wrinkled when she was done, but she hardly cared. She’d known she would have to see him again, but she hadn’t expected it to happen quite yet. No, she’d expected to face him in a boardroom—and even that thought had been almost enough to make her lose her lunch at the time.

How could she face him again? How? One moment, one look from across the room, and she was a jittery wreck of raw emotion. He had always had that effect on her, but she was nevertheless stunned that he still did. After all this time. After everything.

“Caroline.”

Her spine melted under the silken caress of her name on those lips she’d once loved so much. Once, but no more. She was a woman now, a woman who had made her choice. She’d do the same thing again, given the circumstances. She’d saved Sullivan’s then; she would save it now, too.

No matter that Roman Kazarov and his multinational conglomerate had other ideas.

She turned with a smile on her lips. A smile that shook at the corners. She only hoped it was too dark for him to notice.

“Mr. Kazarov,” she said, her voice a little too shrill, a little too brittle.

She needed to find her strength, her center—but she was off balance, her system still in shock from the surprise of seeing him in that room tonight.

Her heart took a slow tumble over the edge of the shelf on which it sat, falling into her belly, her toes. She felt hollow inside, so hollow, as she gazed up into those bright, ice-blue eyes of his. He was still incredibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the kind of chiseled features that made artists itch to pick up their palette knives and brushes.

Or made photographers snap-happy. Yes, she’d seen the photos of him since he’d burst onto the scene a little over two years ago. She still remembered the first time, when Jon had handed her the paper over breakfast and told her she needed to see who was featured there.

She’d nearly choked on her coffee. Her husband had reached for her hand and squeezed it. He was the only one who knew how devastating news of Roman would be to her. In the years that followed, she’d watched Roman’s rise with trepidation, knowing in her gut that he would return one day.

Knowing that he would come for her.

Roman tsked. “After all we were to each other, Caroline? Is this how you greet an old friend?”

“I wasn’t aware we were friends,” she said, remembering with a pang the way he’d looked at her that night when she’d informed him they couldn’t see each other anymore. He’d just told her he loved her. She’d wanted to say the same words back to him, but it had been impossible. So she’d lied. And he’d looked … stunned. Wounded. And then he’d looked angry.

Now, he looked as if he could care less. It disconcerted her. She was off balance, a mess inside. A churning, sick mess, and he looked cool, controlled. Calm.

But why was she a mess? She’d done what she’d had to do. She would do it again. She tilted her chin up. Yes, she’d done the right thing, no matter the personal cost. Two people’s happiness had been nothing compared to the well-being of the countless people whose livelihoods had depended upon Sullivan’s.

Roman shrugged. “Then we are certainly old acquaintances.” One eyebrow arched as his gaze slid down to where she clutched the wrap over her breasts. She’d worn a strapless black dress tonight, but she felt as if she were naked under the silk, the way his eyes took their time perusing her. Heat flared in her core. Unwelcome heat. “Old lovers,” Roman said, as his eyes met hers again.

She turned and stared across Fifth Avenue toward the park, her insides trembling. Traffic was jammed up, barely moving due to some unseen obstruction, and she knew her cab would be a long time in arriving. How would she endure this?

She’d hoped beyond hope that she would never see him again. It would be easier that way. Safer.

“You do not wish to be reminded?” Roman asked. “Or have you decided to pretend it never happened?”

“I know what happened.” She would never forget. How could she when she had a daily reminder of the passion she’d once shared with this man? Panic threatened to claw its way into her throat at the thought, but she refused to let it. “But it was a long time ago.”

“I was sorry to hear about your husband,” he said then, and her stomach twisted into a painful knot.

Poor Jon. Poor, poor Jon. If anyone had deserved happiness, it had been him. “Thank you,” she said, the lump in her throat making her words come out tight. Jon had been gone for over a year now, but it still had the power to slice into her when she thought of those last helpless months when the leukemia had ravaged his body. It was so unfair.

She dipped her head a moment, surreptitiously dashing away the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Jon had been her best friend in the world, her partner, and she missed him still. Thinking of Jon reminded her that she had to be as strong as he’d been when facing his illness.

Roman was a man, and men could be defeated. “It won’t work,” she said, her voice fiercer than she’d thought she could manage at that moment.

Roman cocked an eyebrow. So smooth. “What won’t work, darling?”

A shiver chased down her spine. Once, he’d meant the endearment, and she’d loved the way his Russian accent slid across the words as he spoke. It was a caress before the caress. Now, however, he did it to torment her. The words were not a caress so much as a threat.

She turned and faced him head-on, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. He stood with his hands in his pockets, one corner of his beautiful mouth slanted up in a mocking grin.

Evil, heartless bastard. That was what he was now. What she had to think of him as. He wasn’t here to do her any favors. He would not be merciful.

Especially if he discovered her secret.

“You won’t soften me up, Roman,” she said. “I know what you want and I plan to fight you.”

He laughed. “I welcome it. Because you will not win. Not this time.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Funny, I would have never thought your father would step down and leave you in charge. I always thought they would carry him from his office someday.”

A shard of cold fear dug into her belly, as it always did when someone mentioned her father these days. “People change,” she said coolly.

And sometimes those changes were completely unexpected. A wave of love and sadness filled her at the thought of her father, sitting in his overstuffed chair by the window and staring at the lake beyond. Some days he recognized her. Most days he did not.

“In my experience they don’t. Whatever was there at the start will continue to be there in the end.” His gaze slid over her again, and her skin prickled. “People sometimes want you to think they’ve changed, in order to protect themselves, but I find it’s never true.”

“Then you must not know many people,” she said. “We all change. No one stays the same.”

“No, we don’t. But whatever the essence was, that remains. If one is heartless, for instance, one doesn’t suddenly grow a heart.”

Caroline’s skin glowed with heat. She knew he was speaking of her, speaking of that night when she’d thrown his love back in his face. She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him the truth, but what good would it do? None whatsoever.

“Sometimes things are not as they seem,” she said. “Appearances can be deceptive.”

As soon as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. His icy eyes grew even frostier as he studied her. “I have no doubt you would know this.”

Fury and sadness warred inside her. The only thing to do was to pretend not to understand his meaning. Caroline gave a superior sniff. “Nevertheless, Daddy has reevaluated his priorities. He’s enjoying himself at his country estate these days. He worked hard for it, and he deserves it.”

There was a lump in her throat. She gritted her teeth and turned to look hopefully for a taxi, willing herself not to cry as she did so. She wasn’t ordinarily overcome with emotion, but thinking about her father’s illness in the presence of this man she’d once loved was a bit overwhelming.

“I had no idea you were interested in taking over the business someday,” Roman said, his tone more than a bit mocking. “I’d rather thought your interests lay elsewhere.”

She whipped around to look at him. “Such as shopping and getting my nails done? That was never my plan.”

It had been her parents’ plan, however. It was simply not done for a Sullivan woman to work. They married well and spent their days doing charitable work, not dirtying their hands in the business. No matter that she’d wanted to learn the business, or that her father had indulged her a bit and let her intern there—because business experience would do her good in her charitable duties, he’d said over her mother’s protests. Jon had always been the one intended to run the department store chain once her father retired.

Which Frank Sullivan would not have done anytime in the next twenty years had the choice not been taken from him. Now that Jon was dead, there was no one else but her. And she was good at what she did, damn it. She had to be.

“You’ve had a bad year,” Roman said softly, and her heart clenched. Yes, she’d had a bad year. But she still had Sullivan’s. More importantly, she had her son. And for him, she would do anything. Sullivan’s would be his one day. She would make sure of it.

“It could always be worse,” she said, not meeting Roman’s hard gaze. She’d told herself repeatedly that things could always be worse just so she could get through the day—but she really didn’t want to know how much worse. Losing a husband to cancer and a father to dementia was pretty damn bad in her book.

“It is worse,” he said. “I’m here. I don’t arrive on the scene until a company is struggling, Caroline. Until profits are squeezed tight and every month is a struggle to pay your suppliers just enough so they’ll keep the shipments coming.”

Caroline blinked. The stores. Of course he was talking about the stores. For a minute, she’d thought he was being sympathetic. But why would he be? She was the last person he’d ever show any compassion for.

And she could hardly blame him, could she? They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.

Though her heart ached, she feigned a laugh that was as light as the evening breeze. It tinkled gaily, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, when in fact she felt the weight of her cares like an anvil yoked to her neck.

“Oh Roman, really. You’ve done quite well for yourself, but your information cannot always be correct. This time, you are wrong. Dead wrong. You won’t get Sullivan’s, no matter how you try.” She waved a hand toward Fifth Avenue, encompassing the park, the horse-drawn carriage with its load of tourists passing by, and the logjam of cars and trucks packing the avenue. “Times have been bad everywhere, but look around you. This city is alive. These people are working, and they need the kind of goods Sullivan’s provides. They want what we have. Our sales are up twenty percent this quarter. And it will only get better.”

She had to believe that. Her father had made some bad decisions before anyone realized he was ill, and she was working her hardest to fix them. It wasn’t easy, and she wasn’t assured of success, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet, either.

Roman smirked. Literally smirked. “Twenty percent in one store, Caroline. The majority of your stores are suffering. You should have sold off some of the less profitable branches, but you didn’t. And now you are hurting.”

He took a step toward her, closed the space between them until she could feel his heat. His power. She wanted to take a step back, to put distance between them, but she would not. She would never give an inch of ground to this man. She couldn’t. She’d made her choice five years ago and she would stick by the rightness of it until the day she died.

“Thank you for your opinion, as unsolicited as it might have been,” Caroline said tightly. The nerve of the man! Of course she’d thought of selling off a few of the stores, but when she’d tried, the offers hadn’t exactly been forthcoming. It should have been done two years ago, but she hadn’t been the one in charge then. By the time she’d taken the lead, the economy had tanked and no one wanted to buy a department store. She was doing the best she could with the resources she had.

“I’ve done my research,” Roman said. “And I know the end is near for Sullivan’s. If you wish to see it continue, you’ll cooperate with me.”

Caroline tilted her chin up again. She’d been strong for so long that it was as natural to her as breathing. She might have been young and naive five years ago, when she’d loved this man beyond the dictates of reason or sense, but no longer.

“Why on earth would I do that? Are you saying I should just trust you? Sign over Sullivan’s and trust that you’ll ‘save’ the stores that have been in my family for five generations?” She shook her head. “I’d be a fool if I did business that way. And I assure you I am no fool.”

Miraculously, a taxi broke through the traffic and pulled to the curb then. The uniformed doorman drew open the door with a flourish. “Madam, your taxi.”

Caroline turned without waiting for an answer and entered the cab. She was just about to tell the driver where to take her when Roman filled the frame of the open door.

“This is my taxi,” she blurted as he shifted her over with a nudge of his hip.

“I’m going in the same direction.” He settled in beside her and gave the driver an address in the financial district. Caroline wanted to splutter in outrage, but she forced herself to breathe evenly, calmly. Her heart was a trapped butterfly in her chest. She couldn’t lead Roman to her door. She couldn’t bear to have him know where she lived. If Ryan came outside for some reason …

No. Caroline gave the driver the address of a town house in Greenwich Village. It wasn’t her town house, but she could walk the two streets over to her own house once the cab was gone.

“How did you know we were going in the same direction?” she demanded as the taxi began to inch back into traffic.

He shrugged. “Because I’m in no hurry. Even if you went north, I could eventually go south again.”

Caroline tucked her wrap over one shoulder. “That seems like a terrible waste of time.”

“I hardly think so. I have you alone now.”

Her heart thumped. Once, she would have been giddy to be alone with him for a long cab ride. She would have turned into his arms and tilted her head back for his kiss. Unwelcome heat bloomed in her cheeks, her belly. How many clandestine kisses had they shared in taxis such as this one?

Caroline didn’t want to think about it. She slid as far away from him as she could get, and turned to stare out the window at the mass of humanity moving along the sidewalks. A young woman in a yellow dress caught her eye as she walked beneath a streetlamp, her arm looped into the man’s beside her. When she threw her head back and laughed, Caroline felt a pang of envy. When was the last time she’d laughed so spontaneously?

Arrested by her laugh or her beauty, or some unidentifiable thing Caroline couldn’t see, the man drew the girl into his arms. Caroline craned her neck as the taxi moved past, watched as the girl wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and their lips met.

When she turned back, she could feel Roman’s eyes on her in the darkened taxi.

“Ah, romance,” he said, the words dripping with cynicism.

Caroline closed her eyes and swallowed. She bit her lip against the urge to say she was sorry for any pain she’d caused him. They’d said everything five years ago. It was too late now, and she wasn’t the same person she’d been then.

“What do you want from me, Roman?” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.

“You know what I want. What I came here for.”

She turned to look at him, and barely stopped herself from sucking in her breath at the sight of him all dark and moody beside her. After five years, was she still supposed to be this affected by his dark male beauty?

“You’re wasting your time. Sullivan’s isn’t for sale at any price.”

There was silence between them for a long moment. And then he burst into laughter. His voice was rich, deep and sexy, and a curl of heat wound through her at the sound.

“You will sell, Caroline. You will do it because you can’t bear to see it cease to exist. Be stubborn—and watch when your suppliers cut off your line of credit, one by one. Watch as you have to close one store, and then another, and still you cannot fill your orders or keep your stores supplied with goods. Sullivan’s is known for quality, for luxury. Will you cease to order the best, and settle for second best? Will you tell your customers they can no longer have the Russian caviar, the finest smoked salmon, the specialty cakes from Josette’s, the designer handbags from Italy or the custom suits in the men’s haberdashery?”

A shiver traveled up her spine, vibrated across her shoulder blades. Her stomach clenched hard. Yes, it was that bad. Yes, she’d been studying the list of her suppliers and wondering how she could cut corners and still keep the quality for which Sullivan’s was known. The specialty food shop was hugely expensive—and yes, she’d thought of downsizing that department, of eliminating it in some markets.

She’d wanted to ask her father. She’d wanted to sit at his feet and ask him what he thought, just as she’d wanted to turn to Jon and ask him for his opinion. But they were unavailable, and she would not choke. She would make the hard choices. For Ryan. She would do it for Ryan.

Family was everything. It was all she had.

“I won’t discuss this with you, Roman,” she said, her voice as hard as she could make it. “You don’t own Sullivan’s yet. If I have anything to say about it, you won’t ever get that chance.”

“This is the thing you fail to understand, solnyshko. You have no say. It is as inevitable as a sunset.”

“Nothing is inevitable. Not while I have my wits. I intend to fight you with everything I have. You will not win.”

His smile was lethally cold. And dangerously attractive if the spike in her temperature was any indication.

“Ah, but I will. This time, Caroline, I get my way.”

Her heart thumped. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Surely you aren’t still brooding over our brief affair. You can’t mean to acquire Sullivan’s simply to get revenge for past slights.”

She said the words as if they were nothing, as if the mere idea were ridiculous, though her pulse skittered wildly in her wrists, her throat.

The corners of his mouth tightened, and her insides squeezed into a tight ball.

“Brooding? Hardly that, my dear. I’ve realized since that night that my …” he paused “… feelings … were not quite what I thought they were.” His gaze dropped over her body, back up again. “I was enamored with you, this is true. But love? No.”

It should not hurt to hear him say such a thing, but it did. She’d loved him so much, and she’d believed that he had loved her in return.

And now he was telling her he never had. That it was all an illusion. The knowledge hurt far more than she’d have thought possible five years after the fact.

“Then why are you here?” she asked tightly. “Why does Sullivan’s matter to you? You own far more impressive department stores. You don’t need mine.”

His laugh was soft, mocking. “No, I don’t need them.” He leaned toward her suddenly, his eyes gleaming in the light from the traffic. Her stomach clenched in reaction, though she hardly knew what she was reacting to.

“I want them,” he growled. “And I want you.”