A Reputation For Revenge

“Unusual. And honest.” Turning, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a short glass of amber-colored liquid. He returned, then took a slow, thoughtful sip.

“All right. I’ll get your sister back for you,” he said abruptly.

“You will!” If there was something strange about his tone, Josie was too weak with relief to notice. “When?”

“After we’re wed. Our marriage will last until the land in Alaska is legally transferred to me.” He looked straight into her eyes. “And I’ll bring her to you, and set you both free. Is that what you want?”

Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes,” she cried.

Setting down his drink on the polished wooden table, he held out his hand. “Deal.”

Slowly, she reached out her hand. She felt the hot, calloused hollow of his palm, felt his strong fingers interlace with hers. A tremble raced through her. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to his handsome face, to those electric-blue eyes, and it was like staring straight at the sun.

“I hope it won’t be too painful for you,” she stammered, “being married to me.”

His hand tightened over hers. “As you’ll be my only wife, ever,” he said softly, “I think I’ll enjoy you a great deal.”

“Your only wife ever?” Her brow furrowed. “That seems a little pessimistic of you. I mean—” she licked her lips awkwardly “—I’m sure you’ll meet someone someday…”

Kasimir gave a low, humorless laugh.

“Josie, my sweet innocent one—” he looked at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes “—you are the answer to my every prayer.”

Prince Kasimir Xendzov hadn’t started the feud ten years ago with his brother.

As a child, he’d idolized Vladimir. He’d been proud of his older brother, of his loving parents, of his family, of his home. Their great-grandfather had been one of the last great princes of Russia, before he’d died fighting for the White Army in Siberia, after sending his beloved wife and baby son to safety in Alaskan exile. Since then, for four generations, the Xendzovs had lived in self-sufficient poverty on an Alaskan homestead far from civilization. To Kasimir, it had been an enchanted winter kingdom.

But his older brother had hated the isolation and uncertainty—growing their own vegetables, canning them for winter, hunting rabbits for meat. He’d hated the lack of electricity and indoor plumbing. As Kasimir had played, battling with sticks as swords and jousting against the pine trees, Vladimir had buried his nose in business books and impatiently waited for their twice-a-year visits to Fairbanks. “Someday, I’ll have a better life,” he’d vowed, cursing as he scraped ice off the inside window of their shared room. “I’ll buy clothes instead of making them. I’ll drive a Ferrari. I’ll fly around the world and eat at fine restaurants.”

Kasimir, two years younger, had listened breathlessly. “Really, Volodya?” But though he’d idolized his older brother, he hadn’t understood Vladimir’s restlessness. Kasimir loved their home. He liked going hunting with their father and listening to him read books in Russian by the wood-burning stove at night. He liked chopping wood for their mother, feeling the roughness of an ax handle in his hand, and having the satisfaction of seeing the pile of wood climb steadily against the side of the log cabin. To him, the wild Alaskan forest wasn’t isolating. It was freeing.

Home. Family. Loyalty. Those were the things Kasimir cared about.

Right after their father died unexpectedly, Vladimir got news he’d been accepted to the best mining college in St. Petersburg, Russia. Their widowed mother had wept with joy, for it had been their father’s dream. But with no money for tuition, Vladimir had put off school and gone to work at a northern mine to save money.

Two years later, Kasimir had applied to the same college for one reason: he felt someone had to watch his brother’s back. He didn’t expect that he’d have the money to leave Alaska for many years, so he’d been surprised tuition money for them both was suddenly found.

It was only later he’d discovered Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell their family’s last precious asset, a jeweled necklace hundreds of years old that had once belonged to their great-grandmother, to a collector.

He’d felt betrayed, but he’d tried to forgive. He’d told himself that Vladimir had done it for their good.

Right after college, Kasimir had wanted to return to Alaska to take care of their mother, who’d become ill. Vladimir convinced him that they should start their own business instead, a mining business. “It’s the only way we’ll be sure to always have money to take care of her.” Instead, when the banks wouldn’t loan them enough money, Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell the six hundred and thirty-eight acres that had been in the Xendzov family for four generations—ever since Princess Xenia Petrovna Xendzova had arrived on Alaskan shores as a heartbroken exile, with a baby in her arms.

Kasimir had been furious. For the first time, he’d yelled at his brother. How could Vladimir have done such a thing behind his back, when he knew Kasimir had made a fervent deathbed promise to their father never to sell their land for any reason?

“Don’t be selfish,” Vladimir said coldly. “You think Mom could do all the work of the homestead without us?” And the money had in part paid for their mother to spend her last days at a hospice in Fairbanks. Kasimir’s heart still twisted when he thought of it. His eyes narrowed.

The real reason they’d lost their home had been Vladimir’s need to secure the most promising mining rights. What mattered: a younger brother’s honor, a mother’s home, or his need to establish their business with good cash flow and the best equipment?

“Don’t worry,” his brother had told him carelessly. “Once we’re rich, you can easily buy it back again.”

Kasimir set his jaw. He should have cut off all ties with his brother then and there. Instead, after their mother died, he’d felt more bound than ever to his brother—his only family. They strove for a year to build their business partnership, working eighteen-hour days in harsh winter conditions. Kasimir had been certain they’d soon earn their first big payout, and buy their home back again.

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.

Guilt, he realized in shock. He hadn’t felt that emotion for a long time. He wouldn’t let it stop him. But he’d be as gentle as he could to her.

Turning away from Josie’s sleeping form, he went back downstairs to his home office. He phoned his head secretary, and ten minutes later, he was contacted by Honolulu’s top wedding planner. Afterward, he tossed his phone onto his desk.

Swiveling his chair, he looked out the window overlooking the penthouse’s rooftop pool. Bright sunlight glimmered over the blue water, and beyond that, he could see the city and the distant ocean melting into the blue sky.

For ten years, he’d been wearing Vladimir down, fighting his company tooth and claw with his own, getting his attention the only way he knew how—by making him pay with tiny stings, death by a thousand cuts.

But getting Bree Dalton to betray Vladimir would be the deepest cut of all. The fatal one.

Rising to his feet, Kasimir stood in front of the window, hands tucked behind his back as he gazed out unseeingly towards the Pacific. He’d give his lawyer a few weeks to transfer possession of Josie’s land back to his control. By then, once the two little lovebirds were enmeshed in each other, Kasimir would blackmail Bree into stealing his brother’s company away.

He narrowed his eyes. Bree would crush Vladimir’s heart beneath her boot, and his brother would finally know what it felt like to have someone else change his life, against his will, when Bree betrayed him.

She’d have no choice. Kasimir had all the ammunition he needed to make Bree Dalton do exactly as he wanted. A cold smile crossed his lips.

He had her sister.

CHAPTER TWO

JOSIE’S EYELIDS FLUTTERED, then flew open as she sat up with a sharp intake of breath.

She was still fully dressed. She’d been sleeping on an enormous bed, in a strange bedroom. The masculine, dark-floored bedroom was flooded with golden light from the windows.

How long had she been sleeping? She yawned, and her mouth felt dry, as if it was lined with cotton. Who had brought her here? Could it have been Kasimir himself?

The thought of being carried in those strong arms, against his powerful chest, as she slept on unaware, caused her to tremble. She looked down at the mussed white bedspread.

Could it possibly be his bed…?

With a gulp, Josie jumped up as if it had burned her. The clock on the fireplace mantel said three o’clock. Gracious! She’d slept for hours. She stretched her arms above her head with another yawn. It had been nice of Kasimir to let her sleep. She felt so much better.

Until she saw herself in the full-length mirror on the other side of the bedroom. Wait. Was that what she looked like? She took three steps towards it, then sucked in her breath in horror, covering her mouth with her hand.

Josie knew she wasn’t the most fashionable dresser, and that she was a bit on the plump side, too. But she’d had no idea she looked this bad. She’d crossed the Pacific twice in the same rumpled T-shirt and wrinkled, oversize men’s jeans that she’d bought secondhand last year. In her flight back from Seattle, she’d been crushed in the last row, in a sweaty middle seat between oversize businessmen who took her armrests and stretched their knees into her personal space. And she hadn’t had a shower or even brushed her teeth for two days.

Josie gasped aloud, realizing she’d been grungy and gross like this when she’d been face-to-face with Kasimir. Picturing his sleek, expensive clothes, his perfect body, the way he looked so powerful and sexy as a Greek god with those amazing eyes and broad shoulders and chiseled cheekbones, her cheeks flamed.

She narrowed her eyes. She might be a frumpy nobody, but there was no way she was going to face him again, possibly on her fake wedding day, without a shower and some clean clothes. No way!

Looking around for her backpack, she saw it sitting by the door and snatched it up, then headed for the large en suite bathroom.