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

That was exactly what had happened.

“If that is true, and you were truly intending to change purely because of this love for me,” he said, his voice dripping scorn, “why didn’t you go back to your old life of cheating and lying the instant I left?”

Her eyes widened, then fell. “It wasn’t just for you,” she muttered. “It was for me, too.” She looked up. “And Josie. I wanted to be a good example. I wanted us to live a safe, boring, respectable life.” Hugging her knees to her chest, she blinked fast, her eyes suspiciously wet. “But we couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t be respectable?”

“We never felt safe.” She licked her lips. “Back in Alaska, some men had threatened to hurt us if I didn’t replace money we’d stolen. But my father had already spent it all and more. It was a million dollars, impossible to repay. So for the last ten years, I made sure we stayed off the radar. No job promotions. No college for Josie. Never staying too long anywhere.” Bree’s lips twisted. “Not much of a life, but at least no legs got broken.”

His hands clenched as he remembered the angry looks of the players at the poker game, when she’d told them how she’d cheated them. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I did,” she said, bewildered at his reaction. “A few times.”

“You told me you had debts,” he said tightly. “Everyone has debts. You didn’t tell me some men were threatening to break your legs.”

She took a deep breath, her face filled with pain.

“Not mine,” she whispered. “Josie’s.”

Vladimir rose to his feet. Still naked, he paced three steps, clenching his hands. His shoulders felt so tense they burned. He was having a physical reaction.

If he’d been wrong about Bree, what else had he been wrong about?

He stopped as he remembered his brother’s face, contorted beneath the lights of the Christmas tree. You’re taking her word over mine? You just met this girl two months ago. I’ve looked up to you my whole life. Why can’t you believe I might know more than you—just once?

But Vladimir, two years older, had always been the leader, the protector. He could still remember six-year-old Kasimir panting as he struggled through the snowy two miles to school. Wait for me, Volodya! Wait for me!

But he’d never waited. If you want to follow me, keep up, Kasimir. Stop being slow.

Now, as Vladimir remembered that long-lost adoration in his brother’s eyes, his heart gave a strange, sickening jump in his chest. Tightening his jaw, he pushed the memory away. He looked at Bree.

“No one will ever threaten you or yours again.”

Her lips parted. “What will you do?”

He narrowed his eyes. “They threatened to break a child’s legs,” he said roughly. “So I’ll break every bone in their bodies. First their legs. Then their arms. Then—”

“Who are you?” she cried.

He stopped, surprised at the horror on her face. “What?”

“You’re so ruthless.” She swallowed. “There is no mercy in you. It’s true what they say.”

“You expect me to, what—give them a cookie and tuck them into bed?”

“No, but—” she spread her arms helplessly “—break every single bone? You don’t just want to win, you want to crush them. Torture them. You’ve become the kind of man who …” Her eyes seared his. “Who’d destroy his own brother.”

For a moment, Vladimir was speechless. Then he glared at her. “Kasimir made his own choice. When I wouldn’t listen to his words about you, he told the story to a reporter. He betrayed me, and when I suggested we split up our partnership, it was his choice to agree—”

“You deliberately cheated your own brother,” she interrupted, “out of millions of dollars. And you’ve spent ten years trying to destroy him. You don’t just get revenge, Vladimir. You deal a double dose of pain—breaking not just their legs, but their arms!”

Pacing two steps, he clawed back his dark hair angrily. “What would you have me do, Breanna? Let them threaten you? Pay them off? Let them win? Let my brother take over my company? Not defend myself?”

“But you don’t just defend yourself,” she said. “You’re ruthless. And you revel in it.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Has it made you happy, Vladimir? Has destroying other people’s lives made yours better?”

He flashed hot, then cold. As they faced each other, naked without touching, in a bedroom deep with shadows and frosted with moonlight, a mixture of emotions raced through his bloodstream that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—emotions he could barely recognize.

Bree took a deep, ragged breath.

“I loved you. I loved the honest, openhearted man you were.” Tears glistened like icicles against her pale skin. “The truth is, I love him still.”

Vladimir sucked in his breath. What was she saying?

“But the man you are now …” She looked at him. “I hate the man you’ve become, Vladimir,” she whispered. “I hate you now. With all my heart.”

He took a single staggering step. He held out his hand and heard his own hoarse, shaking voice. “Bree …”

“No!” She nearly fell off the bed to avoid his touch. Snatching the crumpled, pink silk robe off the floor, she covered her naked body. “I should never have let you touch me. Ever!”

She fled from the bedroom, racing down the hall.

For an instant, Vladimir stood frozen, paralyzed with shock.

Then, narrowing his eyes, he yanked on a pair of jeans and followed her grimly. Downstairs, he heard the door that led to the pool bang. He followed the sound outside. From the corner of his eye, beneath dark silhouettes of palm trees against the sapphire sky, he saw a pale flash going down the cliff toward the beach.

He followed. Striding around the pool, he pushed through the gate and went down steps chiseled into the rock, leading to the private, white-sand beach. At the bottom, surrounded by the noisy roar of the surf lapping the sand at his feet, he looked right and left.

Where was she?

The large Hawaiian moon glowed like an opalescent pearl across the dark blue velvet ocean, its light sparkling like diamonds.

I loved the honest, openhearted man you were. Her poignant words echoed in his mind. I hate the man you’ve become.

Closing his eyes, he thought of how he’d spent the past ten years, constantly proving to himself how hard and heartless he could be. Betraying others before they could even think of turning on him.

Half the world called him ruthless; the other half called him corrupt. Vladimir had worn their hatred like a badge of honor. He’d told himself that it was the fate of every powerful man to be despised. It only proved he’d succeeded. He’d conquered the world. He’d just never thought it would be so …

Meaningless. Bleakly, he looked out toward the dark waves of the Pacific.

Has it made you happy? Has destroying other people’s lives made yours better?

The warm breeze felt cool against his bare skin. He’d loved her so recklessly. The night he’d proposed to her, in front of the crackling fire that dark, cold Christmas, had been the happiest of his life.

Until Kasimir had burst into her cabin and called Vladimir a fool for falling into a con woman’s trap. The fighting had woken up her kid sister upstairs, so after tossing his brother out, he’d gone back to his hotel alone. He’d been woken by the ringing of his cell phone—and questions from a Wall Street Journal reporter.

Vladimir put a hand to his forehead.

For the past ten years, this woman he’d called a liar and a whore had been quietly working minimum-wage jobs, in a desperate attempt to provide an honest life for her young sister. While he …

Vladimir exhaled. He’d done exactly what she said. He’d cut all mercy from his heart, to make damn sure no one ever made a fool of him again. He’d closed himself off completely from every human feeling, and he’d tried to eradicate the memory of the woman who’d once broken him.

The moon retreated behind a cloud, and he saw a shadow move. He stumbled down the beach, and as the moon burst out of the darkness, he saw her.

Silvery light frosted the dark silhouette of her body as she rose like Venus from the waves. His heart twisted in his chest.

Breanna.

CHAPTER SIX

BREE stood alone in the surf, staring bleakly out at the moonlit ocean, wishing she was far, far away from Hawaii. She felt the waves against her bare thighs, felt the sand squish beneath her toes. She shivered in the warm night, wishing she was a million miles away.

How could she have given him her virginity?

How could she have let him kiss her, touch her, make her explode with pleasure? How?

Allowing Vladimir to make love to her had brought back all the memories of the way she’d once loved him. How could she have allowed herself to be so vulnerable? Why hadn’t she been able to protect herself, to keep her heart cold?

Because he’d always known how to get past all her defenses. Always. He hadn’t forced her. He hadn’t needed to. All he’d done was kiss her, and she’d surrendered, melting into his arms. And she’d been able to hold nothing back. Her feelings had come pouring out of her lips. How she’d loved him.

How she hated him.

When Vladimir had said that no one would ever threaten her or Josie again, she’d been relieved. Grateful, even. Then he’d spoken with such relish about breaking all their bones.

Bree had no love for the men who’d made their lives a misery over the past ten years. But she would have paid back every penny if she could. And seeing Vladimir, the prince she’d loved at eighteen, turned into this … this monster... was unbearable. She’d thought the man she’d loved had betrayed her. But it was far worse than that.

The charming, tender-hearted man she’d loved was dead. Dead and gone forever. And left in his place was nothing but a selfish, coldhearted tycoon.

She missed the man she’d loved. She missed him as she hadn’t allowed herself to do for a full ten years. The way he’d held her, respected her, the way he’d made her laugh. He’d still been strong, but he’d looked out for those weaker than himself.

But that man was gone—gone forever.

Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as she bowed her head and cried in the moonlight. Even the cool water of the ocean couldn’t wash away her grief and regret.

For all these years, she’d pompously lectured Josie that she must be strong as a woman—must never give a man power over her. Bree wiped her eyes.

She was a fraud. She wasn’t strong. She never had been.

“Breanna.”

She heard his low, deep voice behind her. Whirling around with a gasp, she saw him walking at the edge of the surf, coming toward her.

“Vladimir,” she whispered, taking an involuntary step back into the ocean. “You followed me?”

“I couldn’t let you go.” He walked straight into the waves, never looking away from her. Moonlight traced the strong muscles of his naked chest, and the dark hairline leading to the low-slung waistband of his jeans.

She folded her trembling arms over her wet, flimsy robe. “What more could you possibly do to hurt me?”

His eyes were dark and hot, his voice low. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not anymore. Never again.”

“Then what do you want?” Then suddenly, Bree knew, and her body shook all over. Backing away, she held up her hand. “Don’t—don’t come any closer!”

But he didn’t stop. He waded nearer, until the water rose higher than his thighs, to his lean, sexy hips, where the wet jeans clung.

Vladimir’s gaze fell to her body. Looking down, she realized her robe was completely soaked and sticking to her skin. Even in the moonlight, the color of her nipples was visible through the translucent, diaphanous pink silk.

They stood inches apart, waist-deep in the ocean. Their eyes locked. A current of electricity flashed through her.

“I won’t be your possession, Vladimir,” she whispered. “I won’t be your slave.”

His lips curved. “How could a woman like you,” he said, “ever be any man’s slave?”

A large wave pushed her forward, and the palm she’d held out against him fell upon the hot, bare skin of his solid chest. Without moving her hand, Bree looked up at him. Her heart was beating wildly.

“But you’re mine.” His dark eyes gleamed as, grabbing her wrists, he pulled her tightly against his body. Twining his hands through her wet hair, he cupped her face and tilted her mouth upwards. “You’ve always been mine.”

“I’m not—”

“Your own body proved it. You belong to me, Breanna. Admit it.”

She shook her head wildly. “I despise you.”

“Perhaps I deserve your hatred.” His words were low, barely audible over the surf and the plaintive cry of faraway seagulls. “But you belong to me, just the same. And I’m going to take you.”

As the surf thundered against the beach, Vladimir lowered his mouth to hers.

His kiss was searing, passionate. But she realized something had changed. As he held her against his body like a newly discovered treasure, his lips were exploratory, even tender. His kiss was full of yearning and heartbreak—of vulnerability.

It was the kiss she remembered. The exact way Vladimir had kissed her when Bree’s world had been reborn.

A choked sob came from the back of her throat. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she kissed him back with all the aching passion of lost time. Standing on the edge of the moon-drenched ocean, they clung to each other as the waves tried, but failed, to pull them apart.

Without a word, he lifted her against his naked chest. Their wet bodies dripped water as he carried her out of the ocean, back to the white-sand beach. And as he carried her up the moonlit cliff path that led to the villa, she closed her eyes, clinging to him.

You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Your own body proved it.

It was true. Even though she hated him, it had always been true.

Bree was his. And whether she wished it or not, she always would be.

Vladimir left a trail of sand and water as he crossed the floor of their bedroom, then gently lowered Bree to her feet beside the bed.

Neither of them spoke. Almost holding his breath, he slowly stroked down her soft arms to her slender waist. He undid the silken tie of her robe. Never taking his eyes from hers, he peeled the wet, translucent silk off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

She now stood before him naked and beautiful, her eyes luminous in the moonlight. Looking at her, this sensual angel, Vladimir trembled, racked with desires both sacred and profane.

He’d taken her virginity. He couldn’t undo that.

But he could change her memory of it.

Pulling her naked body into his arms, against his bare chest, he cupped the back of her head, tangling his hands in her long wet hair, and lowered his mouth to hers.

This time, without so much anger and prejudice in his heart, he finally felt her inexperience, the way she held her breath as she hesitated, her lips shy, then tried to follow his lead. He noticed everything he hadn’t wanted to see.

This time, he did not plunder. He kissed her softly. Slowly. His lips suggested, rather than forced; they taught, rather than demanded. He let her set the pace. He felt her small body tremble in his arms, and then, with a deep sigh from the back of her throat, she relaxed. Her arms reached around his neck, and he felt her mouth part for him, offering freely what he’d earlier taken like a brute.

As Vladimir held her naked, soft form, still wet from the ocean, waves of desire pummeled his own body with need. But he controlled himself. He would not take her roughly. This time, he would give her the perfect pleasure she deserved. The night he’d wanted to give her long ago …

Standing beside the four-poster bed, he kissed her for a long time, holding her tight. The two of them swayed in the shadows of the bedroom. Her soft breasts felt like silk, brushing against his bare chest. His ran his hands over the smooth, warm skin of her back, beneath her wet hair.

Their kiss deepened. He did not force it, and neither did she. It just happened, like magic, as the hunger grew like fire between them. He felt the tip of her tongue brush his, and his whole body suddenly felt electric. He could almost see colors in bursts of light behind his closed eyes, like an illumination in the darkness. She was his guiding light and North Star. His one true point.

He held on to her as if, by kissing her, he could go back in time and be the openhearted young man he’d once been. The fearless one …

Bree’s hands moved slowly down the sides of his body, pausing at the recent scars. She drew back to look at his skin. “The racing accident did this?”

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he gave a single unsteady nod.

Her fingers traced the other scars she saw. “And this?”

“Boxing.”

“And this?”

“Skydiving.”

“So reckless,” she sighed. “Don’t you know you could die?”

“We’re all going to die,” he said roughly. “I was trying to feel alive.”

Her fingertips explored, accepted fully. As she touched his scars, he held his breath, feeling his soul laid bare.

“Still sorry the car accident didn’t kill me?” he said in a low voice.

She stopped at the waistband of his jeans and looked up at him with troubled eyes. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then she shook her head, moving her hand over his heart.

“No,” she whispered. “Because I think the man I loved is still inside you.”

He grabbed her wrist. “He’s dead and gone.”

She raised her eyes.

“Are you sure?” she said softly.

The look in her hazel eyes made Vladimir’s heart twist in his chest. It was as if she knew exactly who he was, scars and all. As if she saw right through him. Straight to his broken soul.

Turning away without a word, he unzipped the fly of his jeans. He wrestled the wet denim to the floor. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her to the bed, with her naked body on top of his. The feeling of having her like this—Breanna, the woman he’d hated for ten years, the first and last woman he’d let himself love—left him dizzy.

“I’m not that man,” he said aloud, to both of them.

Pulling her wrists from his grip, she put her hands on either side of his face.

“Let me see,” she whispered. Lowering her head, she kissed him.

As her sweet mouth moved against his lips, the weight of her naked body pressed against him, and it felt like heaven. Her hands moved slowly across his skin, down his arms, to his hips. Lowering her head, she followed the same path, kissing down his chest to his flat belly.

When he felt the heat of her breath against his thighs, he squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly afraid to move. She paused. Then, tentatively, she reached out her hand and stroked him, exploring the length of his shaft. He gasped softly. Then he felt her weight move on the bed, and suddenly her lips and breath were on him. He felt her mouth against him, her tongue stroke his shaft to the tip.

He gasped again.

She moved slowly, and he suddenly realized this was new to her; she’d never explored any man so intimately before. The thought of this—that she’d waited all this time for him, only for him—was too much for him to endure. He felt her soft warm mouth enfold him, and he sucked in his breath. One more flicker of her tongue—

Sitting up, he grabbed her, rolling her over. Lying on top of her, he looked straight into her eyes and breathed hoarsely, “No, Breanna. No.”

Putting his hand on her cheek, he lowered his head to hers. As he kissed her lips, his hands stroked her satin-soft skin, cupping her breasts. Moving down her body, he kissed first one breast, then the other, with hot need, suckling her until she gasped. His fingertips caressed down her belly. When he reached the mound between her legs, he stopped. His body was shaking, screaming for him to push inside her.

But he did not. He moved abruptly to the bottom of the bed. Taking one of her feet in his hands, he slowly kissed it, suckling her toes, tasting salt from the Pacific on her sweet, warm skin. He felt her tremble as he kissed the hollow of her foot, then moved up her leg to her calf, and the tender spot behind her knee. When he reached her thighs, he pressed them apart, spreading her.

He risked a glance upward. Her face was rapt, her eyes tightly closed. He heard the rasp of her breath and felt the tremble of her legs as she nervously tried to close them. Smiling to himself—he could hardly wait to give her this pleasure—he held her legs splayed and kissed slowly up the soft skin of her thighs. He moved higher and higher, teasing her with his breath, until he finally spread her wide. Lowering his head, he took a long, deep taste.

He had the satisfaction of hearing her cry out as her body shook with need. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his tongue, widening it to lap at her, then pointing the tip to penetrate a half inch inside her. He felt her body get tighter and tighter, saw her back start to arch off the mattress, as before. But this time, he wanted to give her more.

Flicking his tongue against her swollen nub, he pushed a thick knuckle of his folded finger just barely inside her. She felt wet, so wet for him. One of her hands rested on his head, clutching his hair, no longer trying to pull him away, embarrassment and fear forgotten beneath the waves of pleasure. Her other hand gripped the tousled white sheets of the bed. Her body grew tense and tenser beneath him, until she started to lift off the mattress, as if gravity itself were losing power over her. She held her breath, and then with a loud cry, she exploded. He felt her body contract hard around his knuckle.

Sheathing himself in another condom—except this time, his hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it—he positioned himself as she was still gasping in kittenish cries of pleasure. He wanted to plunge himself inside her.

But he did not.

Even now, he forced himself to stay in control. He entered her body inch by inch, stretching her wide to fully accept him, doing it slowly, so that she could feel him inside her, and he could feel every inch of her. Her eyes opened with wonder, locking with his own. They never looked away as he slowly filled her, so slowly that the exquisite pleasure almost felt like pain. He finally pushed himself inside her, all the way to the hilt.

And he forgot to breathe. She felt so good. This was ecstasy he’d never felt before. Faster, his body screamed. Harder, faster, deeper, now!

But with a will of iron, he gritted his teeth and ignored his body’s demand. He forced himself to go slow for her, in a way he’d never done before for any woman. He wanted this to be what she would remember from her first night of making love. Not the ruthless, rough, crude way of before.

Gripping her hips to steady his pace, he started to slowly ride her. Her hands held his backside, pulling him more tightly inside her, deeper, and deeper still.

He felt her body tighten again, and as he lowered his head to suckle her breasts—first one, then the other—his hardened body moved in a circular motion against hers as he thrust inside her.

Closing her eyes, she clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. Vladimir’s heart was pounding in his throat with the need to explode inside her, but he forced himself to relax, to wait. He just needed to see her face light up, to hear her gasp. He just needed to feel her tighten around him one more time….

He pounded inside her, harder and deeper, and her hips lifted to meet the force of his thrust. Lowering his head once more, he kissed her. As their lips met, he heard her suck in her breath, felt her body tighten….

And then she screamed, even louder than she had before. In that same instant, he finally let himself go. It felt so good…. So good …

Stars exploded behind his eyes, and his own ecstatic shout rang in his ears. Their joined cries of pleasure echoed in the quiet moonlit night, louder than the distant roar of the sea.