He was also the only person at this gathering of the great and good who remained undiminished by the splendor of the towering, snow-capped mountain range that framed his home. He, the team, and their support staff, which now included Celina, were here on his Spanish estate for the polo match tomorrow in which he would star. Celina, a lowly helper, was staying in staff quarters nearby, but tonight, everyone was invited to the party.
And if a cat could look at a queen, then Celina Petrovka, orphan and lately new recruit to the tech staff working for Blood and Thunder, could stare at the Grand Duke of Monte Caliente as Diego greeted guests to his glittering party.
A young man offered her a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Canapé, madam? Or perhaps a glass of champagne?”
“No, thank you.” She smiled at the waiter as he moved away. She needed to keep a clear head tonight. Her plan must not fail. If she could find a way to persuade Diego and the team to follow her back to her mountain village, she might be able to discover Marissa’s fate, and at the same time lead Blood and Thunder into the heart of the criminal gang so the vigilantes could destroy the slavers.
Calming herself, she returned to studying Diego. He was an incredible-looking man. She had guessed as much that night in the cellar, when only his dark eyes had been on view. That night seemed far away, though it was only a matter of a few short months, during which time Diego had been away playing polo and she’d been familiarizing herself with her new job.
After the raid, Celina and the other women had been interviewed to see how best they could be helped. Thanks to her particular skill set, which included a facility for writing code and interpreting signals, she’d landed a job with the Blood and Thunder tech team. Their far-reaching surveillance capabilities had allowed her to learn that all the children from the school where she taught had been rescued and reunited with their families, while the women captured with her had either been repatriated or provided with new names and a safe haven. Some had been employed by the team, including Amber, the captive Celina had befriended, who seemed to be forming ever-closer ties with Amber’s hero Alexei Riga, the Russian founder of the Blood and Thunder team, who was known as the Tsar. Celina had no ties, she had explained during interview. Being multilingual was always useful to the team, she’d been told, and with the praise of a particular man who figured large in the Blood and Thunder organization endorsing her application, they would like to hire her.
She’d been thrilled beyond imagining, not just at the offer of a job or the fact that her work would allow her to continue her quest to find Marissa, but that she’d been noticed by a man who could really help to unfold her plan.
She must not be distracted, Celina determined as Diego glanced up. She needed him. Diego was her best and only real contact among the men who made things happen. She couldn’t rest until she knew the fate of the young teaching assistant for whom she’d had such high hopes. She had to go back, and for her mission to be successful, she needed the backing of the Blood and Thunder team.
Tonight, Diego was playing the role of Spanish grandee to perfection. No one would guess his sideline was that of ruthless law enforcer. In a dark, formfitting suit, obviously tailored to fit his impressive frame, and a crisp white shirt that pointed up his deep tan, he was a heart-stopping sight. He’d left a few buttons open at the neck of his shirt, which gave an impression of casual elegance, while precious gems glittered at his cuffs, adding a hint of his immense wealth. She had to try very hard not to dwell on the fit, hard body beneath his stylish clothes.
He was both perfect and perfect for her plan, she concluded. Tall, dark, and brutally handsome, he’d been dressed to kill the last time she’d seen him, though on that occasion in full combat gear, brandishing an automatic weapon.
She stepped back into the shadows as he glanced up again. She remembered his keen appraisal in the cellar. Her heart bounced when she remembered his touch. It was a relief when he turned away to greet more guests. She’d changed since their last encounter. Would he even recognize her? Good food had put meat on her bones. Working for Blood and Thunder had inspired her. When the slavers had entered her life, weapons had come to mean one thing to Celina, and that was death. Diego had brought bolt cutters and hope. He was her avenging angel, and she had one more job for him to do.
~~o0o~~
Two people were content to remain on the fringes of the party. He was one, while the other was a woman he barely recognized. The last time he’d seen her, the girl he now knew was called Celina had been in fear for her life, with a haunted, hunted look in her eyes that had contrasted strongly with her strength of will. He remembered how impressed he’d been on the night of the raid, and how he’d felt an immediate affinity with her, as well as a need to protect her. Now he wanted to learn more about her. He’d had to be satisfied with hearsay while he was away, but who knew what tonight held? Self-possessed, there appeared to be even more resolve in the set of her chin, if such a thing were possible. So what did she want? What they all wanted? Sex? Money? The kudos that came with being with one of the Blood and Thunder team’s star players? He suspected not. As on the night they first met, she impressed him as being far more complex than that.
There was chatter about Celina Petrovka in the team, all of it good. She was a lucky find, he’d been told. Rescued with a bunch of other women, she’d turned out to be some sort of tech geek. He only knew her as a desperate survivor of a gang of slavers, but even in that dark, dank cellar with danger all around her, there had been something about Celina that drew him to her side. Not just the chains that kept her tethered to the wall, but the flash of defiance in her eyes, backed up by her unflinching courage. Apart from those expressive honey-colored eyes, she had displayed a lack of emotion very similar to his.
When he learned she’d grown up in an orphanage, he’d felt the familiar stab of guilt he always felt when he compared the contrast in his early life to that of others. It was this same guilt had led him to join the fight for justice with the Blood and Thunder vigilantes. The child of fabulously wealthy parents, he’d enjoyed what might be described as a bracing upbringing, but it had always been safe—if icy showers and ten-mile runs before a breakfast of cold, lumpy porridge, as well as regular beatings by the older boys at his so-called “character building” boarding school could be called safe. He had soon learned that “character building” stood for bullying and cruelty, and had quickly picked up useful fighting skills. Once they were confronted, the bullies had backed down. He imagined Celina might have experienced something similar in the orphanage.
She was definitely trying to attract his attention. Leaning over the balcony, she was displaying her breasts as she stared down. She moistened her lips when she saw she had his interest. He couldn’t mistake the signals. There was unfinished business between them, and she wasn’t afraid to remind him of that fact.
Renewing their acquaintance would have to wait until later. Once the party was well underway, he would be free to take his leave. Meanwhile, he preferred to observe his guests rather than join in. Control was his watchword. He’d learned early on to mask his feelings. He shared his life with no one and took his pleasure where he found it. There was always a selection of good-looking women at a Blood and Thunder party, but none here tonight he hadn’t sampled. Celina was an interesting prospect for later in the evening. She’d been wearing rags the last time he’d seen her, but tonight, she was a vision in white. Like a sacrificial virgin, he reflected with amusement as her simple dress fluttered in the breeze. The fluid fabric flattered new curves, while lush dark hair he remembered as filthy rats’ tails drifted to her waist in a gleaming cascade of chestnut-brown waves. It would be no hardship to fist a hank of that hair, draw back her head, and torment the pale column of her neck with kisses, but for now, he had an ambitious matron and her hopeful daughter to deal with.
He exchanged the usual pleasantries, all the while conscious of Celina watching him. He was glad things had turned out well for her, and he was i
ntrigued to learn more. He and the team had freed fifteen women that night. If they’d remained in the hands of the slavers, the older women would have gone as house slaves to the wealthy and unscrupulous and were unlikely to see the light of day again. The younger, prettier women were destined to become sex slaves, existing as best they could until they were so well used, they would be passed down the line, descending lower into degradation each time, until there was nowhere left for them to go. Thankfully, Celina had been spared that.
He smiled politely at the matron and her daughter, and then exchanged a look with one of his aides, who quickly ushered them on. He glanced up at the balcony. Celina smiled down. Frustration gripped him, but his duties as host were far from over. Next in line was an exquisite princess. He was charming as always, but shrugged off her attempt to engage him in conversation. The princess was too rich, too spoiled, and too shallow for him. And there were far too many complications where fucking royalty was concerned. His sex life was drawn starkly in black-and-white. There were no shades of gray.
“Forgive me, but I have a prior engagement,” he lied to the princess’s pretty little face. A prior engagement with a woman he’d last seen in a cellar.
The princess was crushed, and he almost had second thoughts as she drifted away, but Celina had made him hungry for more robust pleasures. She was still on the balcony, and as she turned to go, he knew she was inviting him to follow her. He could work with that. There was a lull in the arrival of guests, and he was in the mood for something new. It might amuse him to uncover the enigma that was Celina Petrovka, and to finish what they’d started in the cellar.
~~o0o~~
Celina glanced over her shoulder to make sure Diego was following. Putting on the act of a woman who was confident around men wasn’t as hard as she’d thought when her mission was so vital. If she could hook Diego into her plan, he’d bring the team with him. If she asked him outright, he would never agree to her returning to danger. He would say her plan was reckless. She couldn’t risk that. To infiltrate the gang of slavers, she had to do this her way.
Having left the groomed path behind, she slipped off her shoes and raced across the scrubland toward the forest. She soon left the buzz of the party behind. Clustering trees rose dark and tall. She welcomed the darkness. Breathing freely at last, she paused to take in her surroundings. Silence surrounded her. The sweet smell of green leaves and old bark was strong as she ventured deeper into the forest. Her instinct had been honed sharp by danger, and she could feel Diego close behind.
Technically, she worked for him, but all bets were off tonight. Blood and Thunder parties were notorious for the hierarchy between employer and employee disappearing. They were all men and women at the peak of fitness, with plenty of excess energy to burn. They wouldn’t be the only couple looking for somewhere private tonight. People came to these parties for banter, drinking companions, and sex. Celina got all the chat she needed with her colleagues at work. She didn’t laugh easily, and she didn’t drink, which left only one activity to explore. Her body tingled at the thought as she sensed Diego closing in.
She wasn’t sure why remembered fear suddenly hit her. She only knew that when it did, the black, suffocating waves threatened to swamp her, and she ran for her life as she had done in the forest in the Tatra Mountains. On that occasion, she’d been racing back to the school to find Marissa. Once her students were in safekeeping, she could think of nothing else. Rebels closing in on the village hadn’t been unexpected. They’d been drawing closer to the border every day, but nothing could lessen the impact of a raid. The school had drawn up an action plan, which Celina had implemented immediately.
At the sound of the first shot, she’d made a phone call before marching the kids out of school. Wooden steps hidden beneath a rug-covered hatch inside the toolshed in the playground led to a tunnel, and from there to freedom. Good people were waiting on the other side, but as she emerged and looked around, she realized Marissa was missing. By the time she arrived back at the school, the slavers were ripping it apart, searching for anything of value. Climbing in through a window at the back, she had found Marissa cowering beneath a desk in the classroom. She tried to persuade her to come out of hiding, but the slavers set fire to the building, which made Marissa even more terrified and unwilling to move. Laughing and jeering, the slavers had stood around to watch the school burn. It was then that they spotted a computer they’d overlooked in the classroom. Celina’s and Marissa’s fate had been sealed from that moment on.
Tonight she was facing a different sort of danger, but her racing heart could make no distinction. Pausing to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder. Diego was more than a warrior and polo player, she’d heard on the grapevine. He had also been a renowned tracker in Special Forces. She was confident he’d find her. She was counting on it.
Pushing on, she almost missed the hidden dell she was heading for, but the clouds parted long enough for a shaft of moonlight to illuminate the pool. This was where she liked to swim in her downtime. She felt safe here. Sheltered by overhanging trees, the pool was fed by a pebbled stream that glittered and danced its way around a mossy bank. Behind the pond, a sheer rock face rose far beyond the canopy. The only sound was the bubbling water and an owl hooting. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she settled down on the bank to wait. Diego would want to know why she’d led him here. It was said only his colleagues on the polo team could touch him, but she had to believe he’d follow her plan. The one thing that touched most men was sex. She knew less than nothing about building relationships, but she didn’t need to try tonight. All that mattered was that she tightened the bond between them so that Diego would care enough to follow her when she left. It was a big risk but it was all she had. She tensed as he strode into the clearing. Moonlight silvered his face. He zeroed in on her, focused, virile, and angry.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded harshly.
“Waiting for you,” she replied calmly.
Shrewd calculation filled his eyes. “How could you be sure I would follow you?”
“I knew you would.”
He huffed a harsh, humorless laugh. “Well, I’m here. What do you want?”
For a moment, her plan seemed crazy, but then she firmed her resolve. “I want to thank you properly,” she said in what she hoped he would take as an inviting tone.
“Properly?” he queried suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
“What would you like it to mean?” she asked softly.
His gaze sharpened with interest. “What did you have in mind?” he countered.
Everything that had seemed so straightforward in the planning stages changed radically, and all because Diego stirred feelings in her that were so unaccustomed, even a flutter of attraction between them hit her like a seismic shock. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, she guessed. He was relaxed, while she was anything but. Everything hung on what she did next. He was waiting for her to make the first move. Good luck, she thought. You’re inexperienced and gauche, while he’s one of the most sophisticated and experienced man on the planet. Only her determination to follow through with her plan drove her on.
“I don’t have all night, Celina.”
She was no siren, so blunt would have to do. Lifting her chin, she told him, “I want to have sex with you.”
Chapter Three
And he thought nothing could surprise him. “Why do you want to have sex with me?” he asked Celina.
She seemed lost for words. “Do I need a reason?” she said at last.
“When you’re asking that question of an older and far more experienced man, you most certainly do. Well?” he pressed when she remained silent. His intention was not to crush her. He was an admirer of strong women, and he knew from personal experience that Celina was one of the best, but where sex was concerned, he suspected she was an innocent, while his appetite was huge. She didn’t know what she was asking, but he was here, and she was appealing.
> “You’ll get hurt,” he warned as he remembered the words of his glamorous and aristocratic mother. She might have had little time for him when he was a child, but when he was a youth, testing himself, she had impressed upon him the fact that a real man protected and revered women; he didn’t just use them.
He thought of that now as he stared at Celina. Framed in moonlight, her innocence had never seemed more pronounced. His body hardened accordingly. He was no saint. In her white dress with her dark hair flowing free, she could easily play the role of vestal virgin to his dark, satanic satyr. He was used to women coming on to him. Sophisticates who wanted the same thing he did, which was good sex and no ties. Gold diggers wanted his money and got short shrift from him. And then there were ingénues who mistook him for someone who cared. There were others, like the girl at the party tonight, being pushed forward by ambitious parents. He pitied them for their lack of free will. Celina didn’t fit into any of these categories. She knew exactly what she was doing. The only question that occurred to him was why was she doing it? “How much experience have you had?” he asked in an approach as blunt as hers.
“None. Very little,” she amended.
“Which is it?” he pressed.
“Very little?” She opened her arms almost apologetically as she went on to explain. “University was a washout. I studied in preference to dating. I knew knowledge would take me places short-lived romances never could.”
“You craved independence?” he guessed.
“I craved freedom,” she corrected him.
Of a type that didn’t allow for relationships to interfere, he thought. He got that. “Are you sure about this?”
Her gaze remained steady on his. “I’m certain,” she confirmed.
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