by Jennie Lucas
Her heart was slamming against her chest. She wanted to sob, to throw her arms around him, to pull out the contract and rip it up in front of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll come back.”
“Perhaps,” he said, but his lips twisted. “And Snowy? Are you leaving her behind?”
“Of course not,” Bree said, shocked. “I wouldn’t abandon her!”
“No,” he replied quietly. “I know that. You wouldn’t abandon anyone you truly loved.”
Bree swallowed. “Vladimir, I told you the truth. I do love you. But I—”
“You don’t have to explain.” His eyes met hers. “Just be happy, Bree. That’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”
“Your great-grandmother’s necklace is on the nightstand,” she said in a small voice.
“That was a gift.” Picking up the necklace, he held it out to her. “Take it.”
She shook her head. “That belongs to...to your future wife.”
Coming up behind her, he said softly, “It belongs to you.”
He put the necklace around her neck. She felt the cool, hard stone against her skin, and grief crashed over her like a wave. Closing her eyes, she sagged back against him. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against his chest for a single moment.
Then he let her go.
“I will always love you, Breanna,” he said in a low voice. He turned away. “Goodbye.”
Vladimir left their bedroom without looking back. She wanted to chase after him. She wanted to fall at his knees, weeping and begging for his forgiveness.
But she couldn’t. She had the signed contract. Fate had made the decision for her.
It won’t stand up in court, she told herself again, her teeth chattering. After Josie’s safe, I’ll come back. I will somehow make him forgive me....
Bree had no memory of collecting Snowy and her duffel bag. But somehow, twenty minutes later, they were in the back of the limo, driving away from the palace. Her puppy sat in her lap, whining as she looked through the window at Vladimir’s palace, then plaintively up at her mistress.
As Bree looked back at the fairy-tale palace, snow sparkled on Vladimir’s wide fields and on the forest of bare, black trees around the palace of blue and gold. And she realized she was weeping, pressing her hand against the necklace at her throat.
Bree felt something prick her finger. Looking down, she saw the peridot’s sharp edge had pricked her skin. A Russian prince had once sent his beloved wife and child into the safety of exile, with this necklace as their only memento of him, before he’d died alone in Siberia, in ultimate sacrifice.
A sob rose to Bree’s lips. As Vladimir had sacrificed...
Her eyes widened. With an intake of breath, she looked back at the palace.
You knew I would leave?
Yes. His eyes had seared hers, straight through her soul. But I hoped you wouldn’t. I hoped you could—love me—enough.
What had Vladimir sacrificed for her?
Was it possible...that he knew?
“Stop,” she cried to the driver. “Turn around! Go back!”
The puppy barked madly, turning circles in her lap as the limo stopped, struggling to turn around on the long, slender road surrounded by snow.
Bree didn’t care if the signed contract had miraculously fallen into her lap. She didn’t care what the universe might be trying to tell her. The choice was still hers.
All this time, she’d thought she had to choose between the two people she loved. She didn’t.
She just had to choose herself.
Ten years ago, loving Vladimir had changed her. He’d given her a second chance at life. He’d shown her she could be something besides a poker-playing con artist with a flexible conscience. He’d made her want to be more. To be honest and true, not just when it was convenient, but always.
This was the woman she was born to be.
And she would never be anything else ever again. Not for any price.
Before the limo stopped in the courtyard, Bree had thrown open the door, leaving her duffel bag and valuables behind as she leaped headlong into the snow. Her puppy bounded beside her, barking frantically as Bree ran straight back to the only answer her heart had ever wanted.
She found him in his study, standing by the window that overlooked the sea.
“Vladimir,” she cried.
Slowly he turned, his handsome face like granite. It was only when she came closer that she saw the tears sparkling in his eyes.
He wasn’t made of ice. He was flesh and blood. And letting her go had ripped him to the bone.
Choking back a sob, she threw herself into his arms. She jumped up, hugging him even with her legs. Startled, he caught her, holding her against him.
“Are you really here?” he breathed, stroking her hair, as if he thought she was a dream. “You were free. You had the signed contract. Why did you return?”
Bree slowly slid down his body, her eyes wide. “You knew.”
Blinking fast, Vladimir nodded.
“Why did you do it?” she said. “Why would you set me free, when you knew you’d lose everything?”
His phone rang from his pocket, but he ignored it. He cupped her face, tracing his thumbs against her trembling mouth. “Because I knew I’d already lost everything, if you walked out my door.” He shook his head. “I had to know. If you really loved me. Or if you...didn’t.”
“And what did you decide?” she whispered through numb lips.
“I decided it didn’t matter.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I meant what I said. Whatever you do, I will love you, Breanna. For the rest of my life.”
She burst into tears, pressing her face against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed as her tears soaked his shirt. “I was wrong to think I could ever betray you.”
He stroked her hair gently. “Did my brother promise you money to pay off your old debts? Is that why you agreed to help him?”
“Help him?” Drawing back, Bree looked at Vladimir. “I had no idea he was behind us getting jobs in Hawaii. Not until he threatened me!”
Vladimir’s hand grew still. “He threatened you?”
“At the New Year’s Eve ball.”
He sucked in his breath. “Kasimir was there?”
“He found me on the dance floor when I was alone. Right after I told you I loved you—when you took off....”
“That was why you’ve been acting so distant?” Vladimir looked at her, his expression fierce. “What did he say to you?”
A lump rose in her throat.
“He’s married Josie,” she whispered. “He’s holding her hostage.”
“What?” Vladimir cried.
“He wanted to get back your family’s land, and it was the only way to break the trust. Josie agreed to marry him, because she thought it was the only way to save me.”
“From what?” he demanded.
“From you.” With a bitter laugh, Bree wiped her eyes. “Funny, isn’t it?”
His face filled with cold rage. His phone started ringing again. He didn’t move a muscle to answer. “Hilarious.”
“He said if I ever wanted to see her again, I had to bring the signed contract to his house in Marrakech before midnight tonight.”
Vladimir looked ready to commit murder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” Bree said miserably. “I was afraid you’d say it was Josie’s own fault, and that she should face the consequences.”
He scowled. “She’s just a kid. I never meant she should—” He broke off with a curse as, for the third time in five minutes, his phone started ringing again. He snatched it up angrily. “What the hell do you want?”
Then Vladimir froze.
“Kasimir,” he said quietly. “About t
ime.”
Stricken, Bree held her breath, staring up at him.
His eyes narrowed. “She already told me. Your plan to turn us against each other didn’t work.” He listened, then paced three steps. “I am willing to make the trade.”
Bree covered her mouth with her hands, realizing that Vladimir was offering to give up his billion-dollar company to save her baby sister. Then he scowled.
“Kasimir, don’t be a fool! You can still—”
Vladimir stopped, then pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it in shock.
“What happened?” Bree said anxiously. “What did he say? Is he willing to make the trade?”
“No,” Vladimir said, sounding dazed. “He said he no longer has any intention of divorcing her. He told me I could keep my stupid company.”
Her mouth dropped open. “He said that?”
“His exact words.” Vladimir’s lips twisted. “It seems he cares about keeping her more than hurting me.”
Bree took a deep breath. She could still hear Kasimir’s cold words. What I want is revenge. And I will have it. “I’m not so sure....”
Then she remembered the anger in his blue eyes.
So much for Josie’s sacrifice, he’d accused her bitterly.
Bree had wondered about that then. It seemed even more certain now. She licked her lips. “Is it possible...he could care for her?”
“I don’t know about that. But he won’t hurt her. My brother had—has—a good heart.”
“How can you say that, after how he’s tried to destroy you?”
Vladimir’s jaw tightened.
“Perhaps he had a good cause,” he admitted in a low voice. Shaking his head, he continued, “But your sister is in no danger. Kasimir hates me, and perhaps you. But he has no quarrel with her.”
“If I could only be absolutely sure—”
“She is safe,” Vladimir said simply. “I would stake my life on it. And the fact that he actually wants to stay married to her...” He slowly smiled. “It’s interesting. Very interesting.”
His phone rang abruptly in his hand, and he put it to his ear. “Hello?”
Kasimir? Bree mouthed.
He shook his head at her, his hand tightening on the phone. “Lefèvre, at last. Give me some good news.” He listened. And then a smile lifted his handsome face. Seeing that smile, Bree’s heart soared. She suddenly knew everything was going to be all right.
He hung up. “My investigator has found her.”
Bree gave a joyful sob. “Where is she?”
“Safe.” His smile widened. “And very close.”
Bree started to turn. “We should go to her—”
Vladimir grabbed her by the wrist. “First things first,” he growled. “I want to do this before anything else comes between us.” And before her amazed eyes, he fell to one knee.
“I don’t have a ring,” he said quietly, “because I didn’t let myself hope this could happen.” Quirking a dark eyebrow, he gave her a cheeky grin. “And I think I’d better let you pick out your own ring, in any case.”
She held her breath.
His darkly handsome face grew serious. Vulnerable.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered.
Marry him? Bree’s heart galloped. Vladimir wanted her to be his wife, the mother of his children—just like she’d dreamed?
He swallowed, and his stark blue eyes became uncertain. “Will you have me, Breanna?” Reaching up, he gripped her hands in his own. “Will you be mine?”
Tears rose to her eyes.
“I am yours already. Don’t you remember?” The corners of her trembling lips tugged upwards. “You own me, heart and soul.”
He exhaled in a rush. “Does that mean you’ll be my wife?”
“Yes.” Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as she pulled on his hands, lifting him to his feet. “With all my heart.”
Vladimir cupped her cheek. “I belong to you,” he vowed. “Now and forever.”
As their white Russian puppy leaped and barked in happy circles around their feet, he wrapped Bree in his arms. Lowering his head, he kissed her with the passion and adoration that promised a lifetime. And she knew, come what may, that he would always love her, because she’d been brave enough to love herself.
“Never play with your heart, kiddo,” her father had once told her. “Only a sucker plays with his heart. Even if you win, you lose.”
But as Bree looked up into the face of the man she loved, the man she would soon wed, the man who would bring Josie safely home—she suddenly knew her father was wrong. Because when the chips were down, love was the only thing worth a risk. The only thing worth gambling for.
Playing with all your heart...was the only way to win.
* * * * *
Uncovering the Silveri Secret
By Melanie Milburne
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS the first time Bella had been home since the funeral. Haverton Manor in February was like a winter wonderland, with a recent fall of snow clinging to the limbs of the ancient beech and elm trees that fringed the long driveway leading to the Georgian mansion. The rolling fields and woods beyond were shrouded in a thin blanket of white, and the lake shone like a sheet of glass in the distance as she brought her sports car to a stop in front of the formal knot garden. Fergus, her late father’s Irish wolfhound, gingerly rose from his resting place in the sun and came over to greet her with a slow wag of his tail.
‘Hiya, Fergs,’ Bella said and gave his ears a gentle scratch. ‘What are you doing out here all by yourself? Where’s Edoardo?’
‘I’m here.’
Bella swung round at the sound of that deep, rich, velvet-smooth voice, her heart giving a funny little jump in her chest as her eyes took in Edoardo Silveri’s tall figure standing there. She hadn’t seen him face-to-face for a couple of years, but he was just as arresting as ever. Not handsome in a classical sense; he had too many irregular features for that. His nose was slightly crooked from a fist fight, and one of his dark eyebrows had a scar through it, like a jagged pathway cut through a hedge, both hoofmarks of his troubled adolescence.
He was wearing sturdy work-boots, faded blue denim jeans and a thick black sweater that was pushed up to his elbows, showcasing his strong, muscular arms. His wavy, soot-black hair was brushed off his face, and dark stubble peppered his lean jaw, giving him an intensely masculine look that for some reason always made the back of her knees tingle. She took in a little jerky breath and met his startling blue-green eyes, almost putting her neck out to do it. ‘Hard at work?’ she said, adopting the aristocrat-to-servant tone she customarily used with him.
‘Always.’
Bella couldn’t quite stop her gaze drifting to his mouth. It was hard and tightly set, the deep grooves either side of it indicating it was more used to containing emotion than showing it. She had once come too close to those sensually sculptured lips. Only the once, but it was a memory she had desperately tried to erase ever since. But even now she could still recall the head-spinning taste of him: salt, mint and hot-blooded male. She had been kissed lots of times, too many times to recall each one, but she could recall Edoardo’s in intimate, spine-tingling detail.
Was he remembering it too, how their mouths had slammed together in a scorching kiss that had left both of them breathless? How their tongues had snaked around each other and duelled and danced with earthy, braz
en intent?
Bella tore her eyes away and glanced at the damp dirt on his hands from where he had been pulling at some weeds in one of the garden beds. ‘What happened to the gardener?’ she asked.
‘He broke his arm a couple of weeks ago,’ he said. ‘I told you about it when I emailed you the share-update information.’
She frowned. ‘Did you? I didn’t see it. Are you sure you sent it to me?’
The right side of his top lip came up in a mocking tilt, the closest he ever got to a smile. ‘Yes, Bella, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you missed it in amongst all the messages from your latest lover. Who is it this week? The guy with the failing restaurant, or is it still the banker’s son?’
‘It’s neither,’ she said with a lift of her chin. ‘His name is Julian Bellamy and he’s studying to be a minister.’
‘Of politics?’
She gave him an imperious look. ‘Of religion.’
He threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t quite the reaction Bella had been expecting. It annoyed her that he found her news so amusing. She wasn’t used to him showing any emotion, much less amusement. He rarely smiled, apart from those mocking tilts of his mouth, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard him laugh out loud. She found his reaction over the top and completely unnecessary. How dared he mock the man she had decided she was going to marry? Julian was everything Edoardo was not. He was sophisticated and cultured; he was polite and considerate; he saw the good in people, not the bad.
And he loved her, rather than hating her, as Edoardo did.
‘What’s so funny?’ she asked with an irritated frown.
He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, still chuckling. ‘I can’t quite see it somehow,’ he said.
She sent him a narrowed glare. ‘See what?’
‘You handing around tea and scones at Bible study,’ he said. ‘You don’t fit the mould of a preacher’s wife.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked.
His eyes ran over her long black boots and designer skirt and jacket, before taking a leisurely tour of the upthrusts of her breasts, finally meeting her gaze with an insolent glint in his. ‘Your skirts are too high and your morals too low.’