A Reputation For Revenge\The Greek Billionaire's Baby Revenge (3 page)

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.