Dealing Her Final Card (15 page)

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” he said coolly. “Bring the signed document to my house in Marrakech within three days.”

“And if I fail?”

He looked straight into her eyes, like an enemy looking over the barrel of a gun. “Then you’ll never see your sister again. She’ll disappear into the Sahara. And be mine. Forever.”

Bree shook her head with a weak laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I am a madman. Ask my brother. He knows.” Kasimir looked at her blue silk ball gown. “Your sister was frantic about you. She came to me, begging for help. She was willing to do anything to save you, even sacrifice her own soul.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “And for the last two hours I’ve watched you, drinking champagne, dancing in his arms, giggling like a whore.” She flinched as he growled, “So much for Josie’s
sacrifice.
”

Bree sucked in her breath, lifting her gaze. “You like her, don’t you?” she said slowly. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice. You don’t want to hurt her.”

Kasimir glared at her, gritting his teeth. “What I
want
is revenge. And I will have it.” Turning away, he said over his shoulder coldly, “You have three days.”

CHAPTER NINE

W
ITH
a low
curse, Vladimir shoved the short fat man out of the palace, into the dark, deserted garden.

“What the hell are you doing in St. Petersburg?” he demanded.

“I’m allowed to visit here, if I want. You don’t own this city, Xendzov,” Greg Hudson brayed in response, shivering in his badly fitting tuxedo. “It doesn’t
belong
to you!”

“Wrong,” Vladimir replied coldly, shoving him again. Moments before, in the middle of Bree’s innocent, tearful declaration, he’d seen Greg Hudson skulking near the buffet table. Vladimir had been overwhelmed by Bree’s three simple words. He hadn’t known how to react to them.

Seeing Greg Hudson, he’d known exactly what to do.

Fury had filled him at the sight of the man who’d insulted her, offering money to be
on her list.
He’d dragged him out of the ballroom, wanting to knock him to the ground and kick him repeatedly in his soft belly until he learned to respect women. Especially Vladimir’s woman. “You will leave this city and never come back.”

Hudson quivered like a rabbit. “Think you’re something big, do you, Mr. Hoity-Toity Prince? You have no idea how you’ve been played!”

Ignoring him, Vladimir lifted his fist. “Were you following her?”

The man flinched. “No! I swear! I just happened to be in town—” he looked up slyly “—to see your brother. The other prince.”

Vladimir slowly lowered his fist. “You know Kasimir?”

“He owes me money.”

“For what?”

The man looked smug.

Grabbing him with one hand, Vladimir lifted his other fist and thundered, “For what?”

“He offered me a lot of money to hire those Dalton girls. And a bonus if I could arrange for you to meet the older one. By accident.”

Vladimir’s body turned hot, then cold. His hand tightened on the man’s lapel.

“If you ever disrespect Miss Dalton again,” he said evenly, “if you so much as mention her name or look at her picture in the newspaper, you will regret it for the rest of your short life.” He gave him a hard stare. “Do we understand each other?”

“Y-yes,” the man stammered. “I never meant any harm.”

Vladimir let him go, and Hudson fell back into the snow. Leaping up again with a gasp, he fled into the night, slipping on ice in his haste, leaping over a snowdrift as he called wildly for his driver.

Relaxing his clenched fists, Vladimir exhaled.

Slowly, he turned back toward the palace. But he felt numb, as frozen as if he’d fallen asleep in the white snow. He looked out at the fields in the moonlight. So soft. So beautiful. So mysterious.

So treacherous.

Breanna’s beautiful face appeared in his mind. Was it possible...could it be that meeting her had been more than a coincidence? That it had been a plan cooked up by Bree and Kasimir, to finally get their revenge for his treatment of them ten years ago?

Was he a gullible fool falling for the same woman’s lies—twice?

If Kasimir hired Hudson,
Vladimir told himself harshly,
Bree didn’t know.

Or did she? Against his will, a gray shadow of suspicion filled his soul.

As he entered the ballroom and walked through the crowds, his feet dragged. He had no idea what to do. What to say to her.

“I love you,” Bree had said. His heart beat with the rhythm of her words. “And what I need to know is, can you ever love me?”

How could she love him? Bree was too smart for that. He’d warned her that he would never love her. Told her it was impossible. He wanted to make her happy, yes. He’d bought her clothes, spent time with her, gotten rid of the men who’d threatened her and Josie. But what had that cost him, really? Nothing.

No matter what she seemed to think, there was no shred of goodness in Vladimir’s soul. He would never risk or sacrifice anything that truly mattered.

All he had to offer was sex and money—and though Bree seemed to very much enjoy the sex, she didn’t care about money. So what could she possibly see to love in his black soul?

He’d kept her against her will. Stolen her freedom for his own selfish pleasure. She should hate him. Instead, she’d offered him everything. Not just her body, but her soul. Her warmth, her tenderness and adoration, her honest heart.

If it really was honest.

No. He wouldn’t think that. It was Kasimir who’d arranged their meeting, not Bree. But why? What could possibly be his goal?

Vladimir pushed through the crowd, his pulse throbbing in his throat. He had to find Breanna. He hungered to feel her in his arms, to know she was real. To look into her eyes and see that she wasn’t—couldn’t be—allied with his brother against him. Vladimir needed her. That was as good as love, wasn’t it?

She deserves a man who can love her back with a whole, trusting heart.
The thought whispered unbidden in his mind.
Not the careless, shallow affection you can give her, the shadowy half love of a scarred, selfish soul.

She’s mine,
he told the voice angrily.

So you’ll keep her as your prisoner forever, taking her body every night without ever returning her love? Until you see the adoration in her eyes fade to anger, then bewildered hurt, and finally dull, numb despair?

Vladimir closed his eyes. He couldn’t let that happen. Not to Breanna. He couldn’t feed on her youth and energy, like a vampire draining love and life from her body.

If he couldn’t love her, he had to let her go.

But damn it.
How could he?

He sucked in his breath when he saw her across the ballroom, like a modern-day Grace Kelly, willowy, blonde, impossibly beautiful in her strapless, pale blue ball gown. But her shoulders drooped. She stood alone by the dance floor. Shame shot through him. He could only imagine what she was thinking, after the way he’d left her.

Grabbing two flutes of champagne, he came up behind her, then touched her on the shoulder. “Breanna...”

She jumped, turning to face him. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pale. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Who were you expecting?”

She tried to smile, but her expression looked all wrong. “A handsome prince.”

He wondered if she’d seen that little weasel Greg Hudson, in spite of his effort to get the man out of the ballroom quickly. “Did someone...bother you?”

“Bother me?” She tossed her head with forced bravado. “You know I can take care of myself.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said quietly.

She took a deep breath, then lifted stricken eyes to his. “You just...ran away so fast from me on the dance floor, I thought you’d be halfway to Berlin by now.”

Ah. He suddenly knew why she was upset. “Um. Right.” The collar of his shirt felt tight. “Sorry I left like that. I was...thirsty.” That sounded ridiculous. He pushed a champagne flute into her hand. “I got you something to drink.”

Vladimir waited for her forehead to crease in disbelief, for her to demand why he’d really run off the instant she’d told him she loved him. For her to challenge and goad him into telling her the truth.

But she didn’t. Her fingers closed around the stem of the crystal flute, but her thoughts seemed a million miles away.

“Hey.” He touched her cheek lightly, and she lifted startled eyes. “Are you angry with me?”

Her lips parted, then she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Why would I be?”

Putting the flute to her lips, she tilted back her head and gulped down the expensive champagne like water.

For a long, awkward moment, Vladimir just stood there, pretending nothing was wrong. They didn’t speak or touch or even look at each other as, all around them, people drunkenly, joyously celebrated the New Year. Finally, Vladimir could bear it no longer.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” Taking the empty glass from her hand, he deposited it on the tray of a passing waiter, along with his own untouched champagne. He took her hand in his. “But Bree,” he said slowly. “You have to know how I feel....”

With a sudden intake of breath, she looked up, her hazel eyes luminous. “It’s my sister. She needs my help.”

Her
sister?
He’d been raking himself over the coals, hating himself for hurting her, and all this time she’d been thinking about that hapless sister of hers?

He exhaled. “You need to stop worrying about her. My men will soon track her down. In the meantime, she’s a full-grown woman. Treating her like a child, following her around to fix her slightest problem, you’ll make her believe she’s useless and incompetent. And she will be.”

“But what if, this time, she really needs my help?” Bree’s beautiful face grew paler. She searched his gaze with an intensity he didn’t understand. “What if she’s done something—something that might destroy her life forever—and I’m the only one who can save her?”

Irritated, he set his jaw. “Like you saved her from the hundred thousand dollars she lost at the poker game? When you risked yourself, offering your body to strangers, to save her from the consequences of her actions?”

Her voice was very small. “Yes.”

Narrowing his eyes, Vladimir shook his head. “If she didn’t learn from that, she never will.”

“But—”

“There is no
but,
” he said harshly. “She is twenty-two years old. She must learn to make her own choices, and live with them.”

Bree’s shoulders were rigid. She fell silent, turning away as she wiped her eyes. On the dance floor, people were still swaying to the music, toasting the New Year with champagne and kisses. But somehow, he wasn’t quite sure how, the mood between him and Bree had utterly changed. And not for the better.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice, not looking at him. “I can’t just abandon the people I love the instant they make a mistake. I’m not
you,
” she said tightly.

Feeling the sting she no doubt intended, he said in a low voice, “My brother made his own choice to get out of the company.”

“Because you made him feel worthless for a single mistake. When all he did was tell you the truth about yours.”

“Falling in love with a woman who was deceiving me,” he said, watching her.

“Yes,” she whispered. She shook her head. “No wonder he hates you.”

“He intends to destroy me,” Vladimir said shortly. “But not if I ruin him first.”

Her expression became bleak. “Neither of you will ever give up, will you? No matter who gets hurt.”

There was no way she was working with Kasimir, Vladimir thought.
No way.
He exhaled. “Forget it.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Sibling relationships should be my last topic of advice to anyone, clearly. Or relationships of any kind. What do I know about loving anyone?”

But his attempt at an olive branch failed miserably. Her eyes looked sadder still. She glanced down. “I’m tired.”

“All right,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s go home.”

As soon as we get back to the palace, I’ll seduce her,
he told himself. They would get everything sorted out in bed.

But once they arrived there, Bree was even more distant, colder than he’d ever seen her. Colder than he’d ever imagined she could be.

She didn’t fight with him. She just withdrew. She moved away when he tried to pull her in his arms. “I want to go to bed.”

“Great,” he murmured. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” She practically ran up the stairs, then looked down from the top landing, a vision in a blue gown, like a princess. Like a queen. “Tonight, I sleep alone.”

Her voice wasn’t defiant. It wasn’t even angry. It was inexpressibly weary.

He frowned, suddenly puzzled. None of this made sense, but he knew one thing: somehow, some way, he had screwed up. “Bree,” he murmured, “what you said to me, back on the dance floor—”

“Forget about it.” She cut him off and drew a deep breath, her hands tightening at her sides. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

But it did matter. He knew that from the way his heart seemed about to explode in his chest. But he couldn’t let himself feel this. He couldn’t...

Anger rushed through him, and he grabbed at it with both hands. Climbing the stairs, he faced her. “You can’t keep me out of our bed, Bree. Not tonight. Not ever.”

She looked at him coldly.

“Try it, then, and see what happens, Your
Highness.
”

Turning on her heel, she left him. And if Vladimir had had any hope that he might be able to warm her up, as he climbed naked into bed beside her ten minutes later, those hopes were soon dashed. Bree lay on the other side of the large bed, pretending to be asleep, creating a distance between them so clear that the space between them on the mattress might have been filled with rabid guard dogs and rusty barbed wire.

Their romantic, magical night hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Lying in bed, Vladimir tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. The reason for her coldness was all too clear. She’d said she loved him, and he hadn’t said it back.

But he couldn’t say it. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t
want
to feel it.

There. There it was.

He didn’t want to love her.

He’d done it once. He’d given her everything, believed in her, defied his brother and all the world for her sake. And he’d only proved himself a fool. He would never let himself feel that way again. He would never give his whole heart to anyone.

Especially
not Breanna. No matter how much he admired her, or how much he cared. He wouldn’t let her have the power to crush his heart ever again.

But as a gray dawn broke over the first day of the New Year, Vladimir looked down at Breanna beside him in bed, listening to her steady, even breathing as she slept. He saw trails of dried tears on her skin.

Tomorrow was her birthday, he remembered. She would be twenty-nine years old. She’d saved herself for him for ten years. She’d been brave enough to give herself to him completely, holding nothing back.

I love you.
Her words haunted him.
Even when I hated you, I loved you. You have always been the only man for me. And what I need to know is—can you ever love me?