Bought for Her Innocence

by Tara Pammi

  “A job. Or something.”

  His fury shifted as he assessed her with disbelieving eyes. He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said to me. And you wasted my entire evening.”

  She did seem to have a death wish, because the words poured out of her without the basic check her brain was supposed to engage. “An evening of more festivities in Monaco?”

  Instantly his expression shuttered, changed. An infinitesimal moment in which she caught a glimpse of something, a hunger, beneath the surface. Just as she had seen in the photo in the newspaper.

  When he looked at her again, the careless indifference was back in place. “My activities or my personal life is none of your business, so stay out of it.”

  When she dug in her feet, he turned around with a sigh. “And before you waste another few minutes, yes, your life, at least for now, is my business.”

  “How, except that I owe you money that I could never repay?”

  “Five years ago, when Andrew died, I should have dragged you out of that hellhole. I didn’t, and that decision has cost me a hundred thousand pounds and an ever-increasing amount of havoc on my life. Until I ensure you won’t end up on the streets again, you’ll stay with me.”

  Oh, how she wanted to smack the arrogance off his face, but he was right. She had nowhere to go. So she followed him up the stairs and into the...most luxuriously chic aircraft she had ever seen.

  Hanging on to her foolish pride because really, no one could expect her to get used to this kind of wealth when she had lived hand to mouth all her life, she tried very hard to act as if she traveled in first-class luxury with a textile tycoon every other day.

  If the outside of the Learjet was all sleek lines and thrumming power, the inside was world-class spacious luxury she had only ever seen in glossy magazines. Power seats in cream leather so soft that she was scared of scratching it sat in two different clusters with legroom enough to accommodate a giraffe. Or her.

  Two flat-screen monitors whirred out of the ceiling as she watched while the flight attendant rattled off a wine selection, half of which she had never even heard of. Sparkling water was all she had ever allowed herself, before, during or after work, resolved to never blunt her senses in any way.

  “Just water for me, thanks,” she finally said, just to stop the woman from figuring out she wasn’t Dmitri’s usual caliber guest.

  The moment the thought crossed her mind, she felt ashamed of herself. That she wasn’t sophisticated or educated had never bothered her before.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when they settled down.

  “We’re not returning. Not unless my business dictates it. You’ll travel with me until I...until you get back on your feet. But not in London, not when you’ll only be tempted to go back to that life.”

  Her mum hadn’t cared about Andrew or her for as long as she could remember. Only about her broken dreams and drowning them in alcohol...

  Even Andrew’s legacy for her had been crushing debt, debt that had turned her life in a direction she had never wanted it to take.

  “There’s something to be said for a clean break, Jas. Believe me.”

  Jasmine exhaled roughly, realizing he was right. “Can you please have someone check in on my mum once in a while?”

  “Already taken care of.”

  Her nerves jangled with excitement and fear and so many more feelings she couldn’t name. But at least there was no regret for the life she was leaving behind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DMITRI HAD NEVER considered the private jet owned by Katrakis Textiles small by any standard before tonight. It was not his favorite, as anything—bike, car or flight—that boasted size over speed wasn’t.

  But the spacious front cabin with a king-size bed in the rear had served him well on his cross-Atlantic trips, especially when he was traveling on business with a team in tow.

  The constantly fidgeting woman sitting across from him, however, made him reconsider this view.

  She was making him reconsider too many decidedly sure things he had designed for his life, things that gave him shallow and transient pleasure at the least, things he had become used to...

  Theos, he had looked forward to that bachelor party for months.

  But the weekend in Monaco had turned out to be torturously boring for him, his mind pushing the picture of Jasmine sleeping so peacefully in his bedroom, to the fore.

  There was something utterly satisfying about keeping her safe. And after his failure to save his mother, he didn’t misunderstand where the feeling came from, either. But even then...

  The sight of a woman had never transfixed him like that.

  Like a treasure that called to seamen, luring them, her stunning face had come to him in the strangest of moments, stealing away whatever satisfaction the moment would have presented.

  So here he was, his usually uncaring mood roused to a temper, his libido unsatisfied, while the confounding woman’s presence in his life spread as if it was a stubborn virus.

  The picture she presented, everything covered up from top to bottom, shouldn’t have snagged his attention at all.

  Her jeans, while obviously worn out and of cheap quality, were snug and tight, encasing her long, long legs like a glove.

  He had received an eyeful of her mouthwateringly pert bottom while she had knelt in the seat and tugged viciously at the poor, unsuspecting seat belt, not realizing that all she had to do was to click on the latch for it to pull.

  And then there was the real culprit that sent a simmering awareness through his blood for the sheer intimacy of it.

  His pristine white, custom-made Armani dress shirt that she wore.

  He was bulkier and broader and she was thin, waiflike... The shirt should have looked like a bag on her scrawny build.

  The shoulder seam fell to her upper arms, while she had rolled up the sleeves. Tucked into those tight jeans, it billowed over her torso. But with the outline of her black bra visible through the thin cotton, the wide collar flashing peeks at golden honeyed skin every time she moved, it was the most erotically feminine thing he had ever seen.

  Never had a woman so thoroughly covered up fired his curiosity to such depths.

  She made his shirt her own in such a sexy way that he wanted to rip it off her, press his mouth to that silk-like skin, so that he could discover, for himself and for her, what lay beneath.

  Theos, he was turning rock hard and he hadn’t even touched her...

  No other woman in the world had ever baffled Dmitri like her; no other woman shook his compass in such a shattering way.

  Despite everything, there was an inner strength to Jasmine that scorched him every time he looked into her eyes. Add to that, that instant charge whenever she looked at him out of those big black eyes.

  “Is your mother well?” he said, choosing a topic that would surely defuse that charge.

  A line of tension immediately bunched her shoulders tight before she slowly turned toward him. Her mouth closed on the bottle as she took a long sip. His blood rushed south as a picture of that saucy mouth wrapped around him came forth...

  He pressed his fingers to his temple, searching for a shred of decency.

  “As fine as she can be.” She screwed the cap back slowly. “Even Andrew’s death changed nothing for her.”

  The bitterness in her tone took him aback first. Then it cycled to guilt and frustration.

  He should have gone back for her after Andrew’s death, shouldn’t have walked away just because of his past failures. He knew, firsthand, the price a child paid for a parent’s destructive addiction. Even if her mother’s alcoholism had resulted in neglect of her children and not something much worse. A cold chill climbed up his spine. “Does she still—”

  “D
rink like a fish and then spiral into pitiful sobs remembering Andrew’s dad and then mine in that order? Yep... The worst are the stories about me turning into some Arab princess overnight when my father comes back for her after all these years. Thinks it’s going to be Princess Diaries—Jasmine-style.”

  Her smile too wide, the glitter in her eyes too bright, she looked as if she would break with a gentle tap. Tenderness like he had never known engulfed Dmitri. He didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know how to stop feeling it.

  He had no words of comfort to offer. “Do you want me to look for him?”

  Shock widened her eyes. “My father?”

  He nodded. “It might not be that hard now that—”

  “He spun stories, used her for a year and skipped town the moment she told him she was pregnant. She was nothing but a convenient mistress for a visiting diplomat. He had twenty-four years to change his mind. I don’t need another parent who looks at me as if I was the reason their life took a miserable turn.”

  “Then, why did you go to see her again?” Frustration mounted inside him. “Why were you running around all evening loading up groceries, cleaning up?”

  She frowned. “I haven’t checked on her in a week.”

  “How much did you end up giving her this time?”

  Her neck moved this way and that, that ugly knot at the back of her head making his fingers itch with the urge to unravel it. She was stalling, he knew.

  That run-down flat was in a dilapidated part of the city; the empty bottles she carried out, the way she had almost cringed into herself in the darkness... Image after image flashed in front of his eyes... Theos, how did you protect someone from their own naïveté?

  Suddenly, he had newfound respect for what Stavros went through with Leah.

  Studying her neatly trimmed nails, she cleared her throat. “You’re making too much of...”

  “How much, Jas?”

  It felt as if a vein would burst in his temple, as if his very life was shifting in front of his eyes.

  He hadn’t meant to shout. He hadn’t meant to get so angry. He hadn’t meant to spend every waking minute thinking of the infuriating woman or wanting to wring her neck. Or kiss her senseless.

  “Just a little...” She swallowed when he continued to glare at her. “Okay, fine, most of what I saved. Her rent was overdue by two months and she had—”

  His filthy curse rang around the cabin, but did nothing to alleviate his frustration.

  Jasmine looked at him with wide eyes, more alert than shocked at his outburst.

  “So all of the seven thousand pounds you were boasting about? No wonder you weren’t making any dent in—”

  “Yes, okay. I have done this before.”

  He shot up from his seat, like a wild animal that had forced itself to be peaceful until now. That was what always made her curious.

  That carefree, reckless, unemotional demeanor he put on—that wasn’t the natural state for Dmitri.

  His jeans outlined those powerful thighs and tight butt, his gray shirt molding to the hard planes of his lean stomach. It was impossible to be in the same room as him and not be aware of his every breath, every movement.

  Before she could blink, he was bending over her seat, his breath whispering against her cheek.

  Every inch of her uncoiled at the latent power of his body caging her against the seat. Heat from his lean frame stroked her, and she gripped the leather seat tight. “You do know that she will just drink all your hard-earned cash, don’t you?”

  She nodded, mesmerized by the molten depths of his eyes.

  “Then, it hasn’t sunk into that stubborn skull of yours that she’s only manipulating you? That she will suck the blood out of you but not stop? That you’re nothing but a crutch that she’ll use for the rest of your life?”

  “She’s still my bloody mother.” She was shouting now, her eyes filling with furious tears. “Would you rather I walk away like you did, wash my hands off, turn away from that dirty world? Pretend as though I never came from there in the first place, as if I never had a weakness or a flaw to begin with? Spend the rest of my life pursuing mindless pleasure in every corner of the world as if it was my due?”

  A flicker of something molten flashed in his eyes, a flinch to his mouth.

  She had surely angered him now. But instead of fear, she felt only exhilaration. As if the blood pounded harder in her veins.

  He dipped his head even lower, bringing his mouth so close to hers. God, all she had to do was tilt her chin up and her lips would graze his. She would finally know how he tasted; she would know what she had already imagined a thousand times over.

  Just one taste, that was all she wanted of this man who set her senses aflame without even trying.

  “So whatever little you had to pay me back is gone now, ne?” he finally said in a silkily dangerous voice.

  It made her feel oddly hollow, weightless.

  “What happened to your pride, Jas? What happened to paying me back even if it killed you? What happened to not depending on me for anything ever again?” His thumb traced her lower lip, as if he was testing the shape and softness of it.

  It was not affectionate or tender...and yet, the ache between her legs was long, low and instantaneous.

  Instead of slamming his hand away, she froze.

  “You don’t have a job. You donated your meager savings because you’re weak enough to still want to matter to her.” He traced the seam of her collar with a long finger, and her skin tingled as if he had drawn a line of fire down her throat. “Even the shirt you’re wearing is mine.” Her heart threatened to rip out of her chest as he scrunched the fabric with one hand and pulled her forward.

  He whispered the words against the corner of her mouth. “How exactly do you think you’re going to pay me back now that you’re penniless?”

  Incendiary heat sparked from that small patch of skin, and she shivered violently. His fingers pressing into her jaw, his body locking her against the seat, there was nowhere for her to go, even if she would have wanted to.

  “Or is it that,” he continued, a certain relish to the way he enunciated every word, “your pride and outrage at being in my debt was just an elaborate farce? Did you envision living a cozy and comfortable life off my goodwill and wealth? A rich benefactor was what you were looking for all along? Does Noah get a cut?”

  She felt her chest tighten at the very picture he painted in such a honeyed tone, as if he very thoroughly relished twisting the knife as deep as he could.

  A soundless scream ricocheted inside her, leaving marks, while she still grappled with the poison in his words, with that savagely satisfied glint in his gaze.

  He’s doing this on purpose, some naive, weak part of her moaned.

  But she squashed that stupid, wanting, weak Jas.

  It didn’t matter how much he believed his own outrageous claim; it didn’t matter if he truly thought her a scheming witch out to snare a better lifestyle.

  What mattered was that he had chosen to say those words out loud, that with every word he spoke, with every look he cast at her, Dmitri pushed her away, hated her very presence in his life.

  Dmitri, she realized with a painful breath, was so dangerous to her. All she wanted at that moment was to pay his debt, walk out of his life and never see him again. Never subject herself to this hollow weakness, to this constant shame and inadequacy clinging to her every pore.

  And there was only one way she could do both: take something she seemed to want with a longing like she never had, and pay off his debt.

  The only way, as crazily desperate as it was...

  Clasping his cheek, she covered the last bit of distance between them. Pressed her mouth against his, her teeth grinding against his lips. A tremendous stillness came over him while an i
nferno of heat and shame and fury raged inside her.

  She could feel her heart hammer against her chest, like a bullet would ricochet in a closed room, punching holes through it...

  And then it slowed down as his gaze clung to hers, a palette of emotions burning through it.

  His mouth...oh, that sinful mouth was so hot and soft, seemed to fit so perfectly against her...and everything inside her sobbed and reveled at how intoxicatingly good he tasted. Everything inside her wanted to sink and burrow into him... All this in the space of one jagged breath.

  Time itself seemed to come to a screeching halt, and Jas slanted her mouth afresh against his again, arching into his body, and tasted him, again and again...this way and that, moving and lapping while his bristly chin scratched her, while his breath infused hers...

  The scent and taste and heat of him exploded inside her and she wanted more of this madness; she wanted him to kiss her back if it was the last thing she knew, so she dug her teeth into that sculpted lower lip...

  And he turned into a burst of violent energy around her. His fingers crawled into her hair, molded her scalp roughly and slammed her against him. Her breath shoved out of her lungs.

  Sweet victory was hers, she thought, drowning in the storm in his gray eyes...

  He growled against her mouth, hot and hungry. And her aching sex pulsed in tune with that feral sound. The sweep of his tongue, the biting grasp of his mouth... It was like a furnace had been stoked into life inside her.

  His mouth clung to hers with an erotic heat. Pleasure suffused her every nerve until she thought she would burst from the inside out. That mouth—oh, God, that mouth—it devoured her softness, pressing and plunging, licking and nipping, biting and bruising, one hand splayed against her scalp, one hand holding her shoulder in a bruising grip so that she didn’t lean into him.

  A moan, drugged and delirious and, oh, so wicked, rang around the cabin, and she realized that it was she who made that sound. That she was panting and moaning, that a rush of wet heat filled her core, that an ache zoomed from her mouth to every inch of her, that Dmitri’s kiss was more real, more him than anything else he did or said.