Rich Man's Revenge: Dealing Her Final Card / Seducing His Opposition / A Reputation For Revenge

CHAPTER THREE

VLADIMIR watched a tumult of emotions cross Bree’s beautiful face. Rage. Fury. Grief. And most of all helplessness.

It was like Christmas and his birthday all at once.

Still smiling, he turned back to the deserted, moonlit road and pushed down on the gas of the Lamborghini, causing it to give a low purr as it sped through the lush mountains of Oahu’s interior.

When he’d first seen young Josie Dalton at the poker game, getting lured in over her head by the hotel manager, he hadn’t recognized her. How could he? He’d never met the kid before. He’d just thought some idiot girl was letting herself get played.

He hadn’t liked it, so he’d tried to get her out of the game. An unusually charitable deed for a man who now prided himself on having a cold, flinty diamond instead of a heart.

Once, he’d tried to protect his younger brother. Once, he’d believed in the woman he loved. Now he despised weakness, especially in himself. But three months ago, after nearly dying in a fiery crash on the Honolulu International Raceway, he’d taken his doctor’s advice and bought a beach house on a secluded stretch of the Windward Coast, to recuperate.

He’d had no clue Bree was in Hawaii. If he’d known, he’d have gotten up from his hospital bed and walked to the airport, broken bones and all. What man in his right mind would seek out Bree Dalton? That would be like yearning for a plague or other infectious disease.

She was poison, pure and simple. A poison that tasted sweet as sugar and spicy as cinnamon, but once ingested, would destroy a man’s body from within, like acid. And that’s just what she’d done ten years ago. Her scheming, callous heart had burned Vladimir so badly that she’d sucked all the mercy from his soul.

She’d done him a favor, really. He was better off without a working heart. Being free of sympathy or emotion had helped him build a worldwide business. Helped him get rid of a business partner he no longer wanted.

Bree had betrayed him. But so had his younger brother, in revealing that deception to a newspaper reporter while their first major deal was on the line. Burned, Vladimir had ruthlessly cut his brother out of their company, buying him out for pennies. Then he’d announced his acquisition of mining rights in a newly discovered gold field in northern Siberia. A year later, at twenty-six, Vladimir was worth five hundred million dollars, while his twenty-four-year-old brother was still broke and living in the Moroccan desert.

Though Kasimir hadn’t remained penniless for long. Even living like a nomad in the Sahara, thousands of miles from the ice and snow, he’d found a way to start his own mining company, one that now rivaled Xendzov Mining OAO. Vladimir’s eyes narrowed. He’d allowed Kasimir to peck away at his business for long enough. It was time for him to destroy his brother once and for all.

But first …

Vladimir’s lips curled as he drove the Lamborghini through the hills toward the Windward Coast. He glanced at Bree out of the corner of his eye.

He’d told himself for years that his memory of her was wrong. No woman could possibly be that lovely, that enticing.

And it was true. She wasn’t. At eighteen, she’d still been a girl.

Now, at twenty-eight, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her fragility and mystery, mixed with her outward toughness, made her more seductive than ever.

And soon, he’d know her every secret. As they drove down the hills into a lush, green valley, a cold smile lifted Vladimir’s lips. He would satisfy his hot memory of her—the thirst that, no matter how many cool blondes he took to his bed, still haunted him in dreams at night. He would satiate himself with her body.

He’d be disappointed by the experience, of course. His memory had amplified her into a goddess of desire. No woman could be that extraordinary. No woman could kiss that well. No woman could set such a fire in his blood. He’d built her up.

He would enjoy cutting her down.

From the moment Vladimir had heard her sultry voice at the poker table, and seen her slender, willowy body in the tight dark jeans and black leather jacket, her hazel eyes like a deep, mysterious forest and her full pink lips like the luring temptation into heaven—or hell—his every nerve ending had become electrified in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

At first he’d thought it was fate. When she’d taken him up on his final bet, he’d realized the two Dalton sisters must have been working some kind of con. It was the only explanation. He could think of no other reason for Bree Dalton, the smartest, sexiest, most ruthless con artist he’d ever met, to be working as an underpaid housekeeper in a five-star Hawaiian resort.

But now he’d teach proud, wicked Bree a lesson she’d never forget. He’d have her as his slave. Scrubbing his floors. And most of all, pleasuring him in bed. He looked at her, at the way her long blond hair glowed in the moonlight, at the fullness of her breasts trembling with each angry breath. Oh, yes.

“Your girlfriend is going to hate you for this,” she muttered.

In the distance, Vladimir could see the violet sky growing light pink over the vast dark Pacific. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She glared at him. “Yes, you do.”

“Wouldn’t I know?”

“What about the woman whose breasts were pressed against your back throughout the poker game?”

“Oh.” He tilted his head. “You mean Heather.”

“Right. Heather. Won’t she object to this little master-slave thing with me?”

He shrugged. “I met her at the pool a few days ago. She was perhaps amusing for a moment, but …”

“But now you’re done with her, so you’re heartlessly casting her aside.” Bree’s jaw set as she turned away. “Typical.”

“Do not worry. I have no intention of casting you aside,” he assured her.

“A famous playboy like you? You’ll tire of me in bed after the first night.”

He found the hope in her voice insulting. Women did not wish to be cast out of his bed. They begged to get in. Hiding his irritation, he gave her a sensual smile. “Do not fear. If that happens, I’ll find some other way for you to serve me. Scrubbing my floors. Cleaning my house …”

Her cheeks turned a girlish shade of pink, but her voice was steady as she said, “I’d rather clean your bathroom with my toothbrush than have you touch me.”

“Perhaps I’ll have you clean my house naked,” he mused.

“Sounds like heaven,” she muttered, tossing her head.

Driving along the edge of the coast, he stroked his chin with one hand. “Perhaps I’ll allow my men to enjoy the show.”

That finally got her. Bree’s eyes went wide as her lips parted. “You …” She swallowed, looking pale. “You wouldn’t.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Vladimir had no intention of sharing his hard-won prize—or even the image of her—with anyone. He wasn’t much of a sharer, in any case. A man was stronger alone. With no gaps in his armor. With no one close enough to slow him down, or stab him in the back.

Looking away from Bree’s pale, panicked face—somehow he didn’t enjoy seeing that expression there as much as he’d thought he would—he turned the Lamborghini into the road to his ultraprivate, palatial Hawaii mansion. The guard nodded at him from the guardhouse and opened the ten-foot-tall electric gate.

“Relax, Bree.” Vladimir ground out the words, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t intend to share you. You’re my prize and mine alone.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw her tight shoulders relax infinitesimally. This is supposed to be her punishment, he mocked himself. Why reassure her?

But frightening her wasn’t what he wanted, he decided. He had no interest in seeing her pitiful and terrified. He wanted to conquer the real Bree—proud and sly and gloriously beautiful. He didn’t want to be tempted, even once, to feel sympathy for her.

Vladimir stopped the red car in the paved courtyard in front of his enormous beachside mansion, built on the edge of a cliff, with one story on the courtyard side, and three stories facing the ocean.

“This is yours?” she breathed.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you had a place on Oahu.” She bit her lip, looking up at the house. “If I’d known you were here …”

“You wouldn’t have come to Honolulu to try your con?”

“Con?” She looked genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you call that poker game?”

Her big hazel eyes were wide and luminous in the moonlight.

“The worst mistake of my life,” she whispered.

Her heart-shaped face was pale, her pink lips full, her expression agonized. In spite of her tough-girl clothes, the black leather jacket and stiletto boots, she looked like a young, lost princess, trapped by an ogre with no hope of escape.

A trick, he told himself angrily. Don’t fall for it. He turned off the ignition. Grabbing her duffel bag, he got out of the car. “Come on.”

Closing the door behind him, he stalked toward the front door without looking back. He’d bought this twenty-million-dollar house three months ago, sight unseen, an hour before he was released from the hospital in Honolulu. The lavish estate on the windward side of the Oahu shore was set on the best private beach near Kailua.

He went into the sprawling beach house, and heard the sound of her stiletto boots on the patterned ohia wood floor. They passed through the large, expansive rooms. Floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the house revealed the Ka’iwa Mountain Ridge in one direction, and in the other, the distant pink-and-lavender dawn breaking over the Pacific and the distant Mokulua Islands.

But Vladimir was used to the view. Sick of it, in fact. He’d spent weeks cooped up like a prisoner here, as he recuperated from the car race that had nearly killed him, gritting his teeth through physical therapy. No wonder, within a month of being here, he’d started seeking amusement in Honolulu, half an hour away, at a private poker game. The fact that it was illegal to gamble at any resort in Hawaii just added to the spice.

At the end of the hall, Vladimir opened double doors into the enormous master bedroom, revealing high ceilings, an elegant marble fireplace and a huge four-poster bed. Veranda doors opened to a balcony that overlooked the infinity pool and the ocean beyond it. He dropped Bree’s duffel bag on the bed and abruptly turned to face her.

She ran straight into him.

Vladimir heard her intake of breath as, for one instant, he felt the softness of her body against his own. Electricity coursed through his veins and his heart twisted as all his blood coursed toward his groin. He looked down at her beautiful, shocked face, at her wide hazel eyes, at the way her pink lips parted, full and ripe for plunder.

Mouth parted, she jumped back as if he’d burned her.

“Give a girl some notice, will you,” she snapped, “if you’re just going to whip around like that!”

Her tone was scornful. But it was too late.

He knew.

For years, Vladimir had told himself that their passionate, innocent affair had all been one-sided—that she’d tricked him, creating a hunger and longing in him while she herself remained stone cold, focused only on the money she intended to steal from him. But just now, when he’d felt her body against his, he’d seen her face. Felt the way her body reacted. And he’d suddenly known the truth.

She felt it, too.

“You … you should …” Her voice faltered as their eyes locked. As they stood beside the four-poster bed, the brilliant sun burst over the horizon, coming through the tall east-facing windows, bathing them both in warm golden light. Everything he’d ever hungered for, everything he feared and despised, was personified in this one woman. Breanna.

Her long blond hair shimmered like diamonds and gold. Her eyes shone a vivid green, like emeralds. Her skin was pale and untouched, like plains of virgin white snow. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Vladimir reached out and stroked a gleaming tendril of her hair. It was impossibly soft.

He heard her soft intake of breath. “Please. Don’t.”

“Don’t?” He looked into her eyes. “You want me,” he said in a low voice. “Just as I want you.”

Her luscious lips fell open. Then with a scowl, she shook her head fiercely. “You’re out of your mind!”

“Don’t you recognize the truth when you see it? Or have you forgotten how?”

“The only truth is I want you to leave me alone!”

Twining his fingers through her long blond hair, he pulled back, tilting her head to expose her throat.

“Whatever your words say,” he whispered, “your lips won’t lie.”

And he ruthlessly lowered his mouth to hers.

His kiss was an overpowering force, savage enough to bruise. His grip was unyielding, like steel. Bree felt herself being crushed against his hard body.

Kiss? More like plunder. His lips were hard and rough. She felt his powerful hands on her back, felt their warmth through her leather jacket. The muscles of his hard chest crushed her breasts as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. He pushed her lips wider apart with his own, taking full possession of her mouth.

The tip of his tongue touched hers, and it was like two currents of electricity joining in a burst of light. Against her will, repressed desire exploded inside her, and need sizzled down her body like fire.

Her hands somehow stopped pushing against his chest, and lifted to wrap around his neck. It had been so long since she’d been touched by anyone, and he was the only man who’d ever kissed her. The only one she’d ever wanted. The man she’d loved with all her heart, the man who’d brought her to life and made her new.

Vladimir. As he kissed her, she sighed softly against his mouth. For ten long years, she’d dreamed of him every aching night. And now, at last, her dream was real. She was in his arms, he was kissing her….

But he’d never kissed her like this before. There was nothing loving about this embrace. It was scornful. Angry.

One of his legs pushed her thighs apart. His hands moved up to entwine his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back.

“No,” she whimpered, feeling dizzy as she wrenched away. She put an unsteady hand to her forehead. “No.”

Vladimir stared down at her. His gaze seemed almost bewildered. She heard the hard rasp of his breath, and realized that he, too, had been surprised. Then his face hardened.

“Why should I not kiss you?” He walked slowly around her, running one hand up her arm and the side of her neck. “You belong to me now, kroshka.”

Kroshka? She didn’t know what it meant, but it didn’t sound very nice.

Stopping in front of her, he cupped her chin. He handled her carelessly, possessively, as a man might handle any valuable possession—a rifle, a jewel, a horse. Insolently, he traced his hand down her bare neck. “I intend to take full possession of my prize.” His hand slid over her black T-shirt to the hollow between her breasts. “Soon you will be spread across my bed. Aching for me.” His hand continued to slide down her waist. Gripping her hip, he suddenly pulled her hard against his body. “Your only reason to exist now is to serve me.”

Shaking, she tried to toss her head. Tried to defy him. Instead, her voice trembled as she asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Whatever I please.” He moved his hand up her body, cupping her breast over the T-shirt, tweaking her aching nipple with his thumb. As she gasped, he smiled. “But you will please me, Bree. Have no doubt about that.”

She wanted to beg him to let her go. But she knew it would do no good. Vladimir’s handsome, chiseled face was hard as granite. There was no mercy in it. But she couldn’t stop herself from choking out, “Please don’t do this.”

“My touch wasn’t always so distasteful to you,” he said softly. He ran his hands down her shoulders, pulling off her black leather jacket and dropping it to the marble bedroom floor. “Once, you shuddered beneath me. You wanted me so badly you wept.”

Bree swallowed. She’d once been sure of only two things on earth: that Vladimir Xendzov was the last honorable man in this selfish, cynical world. And that he loved her.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he’d whispered. I love you, Breanna. Be my wife. Be mine forever.

He’d been a different man then, a man who laughed easily, who held her tenderly, a fellow orphan who looked at her with worship in his eyes. Now, his handsome face was a lifetime harder. He was a different man, hard and rough as an unpolished diamond, his blue gaze as cold as the place that had been his frequent home for the past ten years—Siberia.

His grip on her tightened as he said huskily, “Do you not remember?”

Blinking fast, she whispered, “That was when I loved you.”

His hands grew still.

“You must think I’m a fool.” Dropping his arms, he said coldly, “I know you never loved me. You loved my money, nothing more.”

“It might have started as a con,” she said tearfully, “but it changed to something more. I’m telling you the truth. I loved—”

“Say those words again,” he exclaimed, cutting her off in a low, dangerous voice, “and you’ll regret it.”

She straightened her spine and looked at him defiantly.

“I loved you,” she cried. “With all my heart!”

“Be quiet!” With a low growl, he pushed her back violently against the bedpost. “Not another word!”

Bree’s heart pounded as she saw the fury in his eyes. She could feel the hard wood against her back, feel his chest against hers with the quick rise and fall of her every breath.

Abruptly, he released her.

“Why did you really come to Hawaii?” he said in a low voice.

She blinked fast, able to exhale. “We got offered jobs here, and we needed them.”

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Why would you take a job as a housekeeper? With your skills?” His eyes narrowed. “You were surprised to see me at the poker table. If you’re not here to con me, who was your mark?”

“No one! I told you—I don’t do that anymore!”

“Right,” he said sarcastically. “Because you’re honest and pure.”

His nasty tone cut her to the heart, but she raised her chin. “What are you doing here? Because the last time I checked, there weren’t many gold mines on Oahu!”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Do you truly not know?” His forehead furrowed. “It was in the news….”

“I’ve spent the last decade avoiding news about you, chief. Not looking for it!”

“Three months ago, I was in an accident,” he said tightly. “Racing on the Honolulu International Speedway.”

An accident? As in—hurt?

She looked him over anxiously, but saw no sign of injury. Catching his eye, she scowled. “Too bad it didn’t kill you.”

“Yes. Too bad.” His voice was cold. “I am fine now. I was planning to return to St. Petersburg tomorrow.”

Her heart leaped with sudden hope. “So you’re leaving—”

“I’m not in any hurry.” He gripped her wrists again. “Nice try changing the subject. Tell me why you came here. Who is your mark? If not me, then who?”

“No one!”

“You expect me to believe we met by coincidence?”

She bared her teeth. “More like bad luck!”

“Bad luck,” he muttered. He moved closer to her, and his grip tightened. She felt tingles down her body, felt his closeness as he pressed her against the carved wooden post of the bed. His gaze fell to her lips.

“No,” she whispered. “Please.” She swallowed, then lifted her gaze. “You said … I could just clean the house….”

He stared at her. His blue eyes were wide as the infinite blue sea. Then he abruptly let her go.

“As you wish,” he said coldly. “On your back in my bed, or breaking it scrubbing my floor—it makes little difference to me. Be downstairs in five minutes.”

Turning on his heel, he left the bedroom. Bree’s knees nearly collapsed, and she fell back against the bed.

Vladimir didn’t believe she’d ever loved him. When he’d abandoned her to the sheriff that cold December night in Alaska, he’d truly believed that her love for him had just been an act. And now he was determined to exact revenge.

His punishing, soul-destroying kiss had been just the start. An appetizer. He intended to enjoy her humiliation like a lengthy gourmet meal, taking each exquisite course at his own leisure. He would feast on her pride, her body, her soul, her memories, her youth, her heart—until nothing was left but an empty shell.

With a silent sob, Bree dropped her face in her hands.

She was in real trouble.

CHAPTER FOUR

SEVEN hours later, Bree had never felt so sweaty and filthy in her life.

And she was glad.

With a sigh, she squeezed her sponge over the bucket of soapy water. There was still almost no dirt—she guessed Vladimir’s team of servants had cleaned the place top to bottom the day before. But he’d still made her scrub every inch of the enormous house’s marble floor. She narrowed her eyes. Tyrannical man. Her back ached, as did her arms and legs. But—and this was the part she was happy about—she’d done it all with her clothes on. He’d thought a little cleaning could humiliate her?

Leaning back on her haunches, Bree rubbed her cheek with her shoulder and smiled at the newly shining kitchen floor.

This house was a beautiful place, she’d give him that. Glancing through the windows as she’d worked all day, surreptitiously plotting her escape, she’d seen an Olympic-sized infinity pool clinging to the edge of the ocean cliff. On the other side of the house, across the tennis courts, she’d seen a cluster of small cottages on the edge of the compound, where she guessed Vladimir’s invisible army of servants lived. Yes. She’d never seen such an amazing villa estate before.

But for all its luxury, it was still a prison. Just as, for all of Vladimir’s dark, brooding good looks, he was her jailer.

She scowled, recalling how he’d enjoyed watching her on all fours, scrubbing his home office that morning. Her stomach had growled with hunger as Vladimir ate a lavish breakfast, served on a tray at his desk. The delicious smells of coffee and bacon had been torture to Bree, following a night where she’d had no food and barely two hours’ sleep. His housekeeper, after watching with dismay, had disappeared. But Bree was proud of herself that she hadn’t given Vladimir the satisfaction of seeing her whimper.

No more whimpering, she vowed.

Bree jumped as Vladimir suddenly stalked into the kitchen, his posture angry. He stomped into the room and opened one of the doors of the big refrigerator.