Dealing Her Final Card

by Jennie Lucas

  But as a gray dawn broke over the first day of the New Year, Vladimir looked down at Breanna beside him in bed, listening to her steady, even breathing as she slept. He saw trails of dried tears on her skin.

  Tomorrow was her birthday, he remembered. She would be twenty-nine years old. She’d saved herself for him for ten years. She’d been brave enough to give herself to him completely, holding nothing back.

  I love you. Her words haunted him. Even when I hated you, I loved you. You have always been the only man for me. And what I need to know is—can you ever love me?

  Instinctively, his hands pulled her sleeping body closer. He breathed in the vanilla-and-lavender scent of her hair.

  Could he continue to use her beautiful body in bed, keeping her prisoner to his pleasure, watching as her love for him soon turned to hatred, then numb despair?

  He had no choice.

  Sitting up, Vladimir leaned his head against the headboard, feeling bleak.

  If he couldn’t love her, he had to let her go.

  * * *

  Bree woke up with a gasp of panic and fear.

  Seeing she was alone in bed, she fell back against the pillow with a sob. Within three days, she would have to betray someone she loved. Who would it be?

  Josie?

  Vladimir?

  She felt sick with grief and guilt and fury. Numbly showering and getting dressed, she went down downstairs, where she spoke in terse monosyllables when Vladimir greeted her, wishing her a cheery Happy New Year. She kept her distance from the man she loved, sitting as far as possible from him at the long table as they ate the elaborate holiday breakfast prepared by the chef. She stopped all of Vladimir’s attempts at conversation and just generally made herself unpleasant. But having him close, looking into his handsome, trusting face, was like poison to her.

  For some reason, he was bending over backward to try to be nice to her, which made her feel even worse. But by late afternoon, her rudeness had managed to push him to the limit. With a muttered, inaudible curse, he stomped off to work in his home office.

  And Bree exhaled, her heart pounding and blood roaring through her ears.

  What should she do?

  She had to save her little sister. There was no question. Whatever it took to save Josie, she would do. Immediately.

  Except…

  Betray the man she loved? Could she really steal Vladimir’s company, his life’s work, the only thing he truly cared about—and give it to his brother?

  Bree’s mind whirled back and forth in such panic that her body trembled and her knees were weak beneath the strain.

  The clock was ticking.

  “You have three days,” Kasimir Xendzov had told her. Less than that now. She looked at the clock. Her hands shook, desperate to take action. But what action?

  She could contact the police. True, they were in Russia and Josie was…anywhere in the world. But they could contact Interpol, the American Embassy, something!

  But while Bree was trawling through layers of international bureaucracy and jurisdictional red tape, Josie would be gone, never to resurface.

  I can seduce her, make her fall in love with me and destroy her pitiful little heart, Prince Kasimir had said. I can force her to be my wife forever, and you will never see her again.

  Bree paced across the morning room, stopping to claw her hand through her tangled hair. She felt like crying. She didn’t know what to do.

  Tell Vladimir everything, her heart begged. Throw yourself on his mercy and ask for help.

  Right, she thought with a lump in her throat. Since Vladimir was such a merciful man.

  But still, three times that afternoon, she went down the hallway of the palace to the door of his study. Three times she raised her hand to knock, wanting to confess everything. But each time, something stopped her.

  His own words.

  She is twenty-two years old, he’d said harshly. She must learn to make her own choices, and live with them.

  And each time, Bree put her hand down without knocking. What if Vladimir said Josie had brought this on herself, by seeking Kasimir’s help?

  If Bree told him everything, and he refused to help her, she would lose her chance to get him to sign Kasimir’s document. And all hope for Josie would be gone. Her baby sister would be left terrified and alone, somewhere in the Sahara. Bree would never see her again.

  Vladimir doesn’t even love you, a voice argued.

  But I love him. She swallowed. He deserves my loyalty.

  And what about your little sister, whom you’ve always protected? What does she deserve?

  Bree covered her face with her hands. She was stuck, frozen, equally unable to betray either of them. And time was running out.

  If only fate could make the decision for her…

  “Breanna.” She jumped when she heard Vladimir’s voice behind her. “I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you today.” He put his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. His voice was humble, as if he thought he was to blame for their estrangement. “I should work tonight. Paperwork for the new merger has piled up, and it all needs my signature by tomorrow.”

  Twisting her head, Bree looked back at him, her heart breaking. He’d just told her exactly how to get Kasimir’s document signed. Was it fate?

  “But let it wait until tomorrow.” Smiling down at her, he kissed the top of her head. “Shall we have dinner?”

  But by the end of the night, Vladimir’s smile had turned to bewilderment. They slept in the same bed, a million miles apart. When Bree woke up alone the next morning, January 2, she realized two things.

  Today was her birthday. She was twenty-nine years old.

  And the whole meaning of her life came down to this one choice. Which of the people she loved would she betray?

  Sitting up in bed, she looked at the gilded clock over the marble fireplace. Over half the time since Kasimir’s ultimatum was gone, and she’d done nothing. She’d neither tried to trick Vladimir into signing the dreadful contract, nor confessed the truth and begged him for help. For the past day and a half, since midnight on New Year’s Eve, she’d always felt one breath away from crying. So she’d pushed him away, to keep him from seeing into her soul. In response to Vladimir’s innocent question yesterday, asking what she wanted for her birthday, she had answered so rudely that she blushed to remember it now.

  She couldn’t tell him what she really wanted for her birthday.

  Freedom from this terrible choice.

  Bree’s knees trembled as she slowly climbed out of bed and fell blearily into the shower. She got dressed in a black button-down shirt and dark jeans. She combed out her long, wet hair. She pulled it back in a severe ponytail.

  Cold, she told herself as she slowly pulled on her black stiletto boots. My heart is cold. I am an iceberg. I feel nothing.

  Tucking the document Kasimir had given her beneath her black shirt, she went down the wide, sweeping stairs in Vladimir’s

  eighteenth-century palace, as if she were going to her death.

  After so many gray, snowy days, brilliant sunshine was pouring in through the tall windows, leaving patterns of golden light on the marble floor. She’d been happy here, she realized. In spite of everything. She’d loved him.

  Looking back now, Bree saw it had been enough. They’d been happy. Why hadn’t she appreciated that happiness? Why had she fretted, worried, groused about Vladimir’s one major flaw—that he didn’t want her to ever leave him? What kind of stupid flaw was that? Why hadn’t she just fallen to her knees in gratitude for all the blessings she’d had—so unappreciated then, and now so swiftly gone?

  Creeping softly to the open door of his study, she peeked inside. Empty. Holding her breath, keeping her mind absolutely blank, she swiftly walked inside and stuck the page in the middle of the pile of papers she’d seen him working through yesterday. She would distract him today, and if luck was on her side, he would sign it without reading it. She felt confident he wouldn’t suspect her.

&
nbsp; He trusted her now.

  As Bree left the study on shaking legs, she hated herself with every beat of her heart.

  Perhaps having his company stolen wouldn’t hurt him too badly, she tried to tell herself. Hadn’t Vladimir insinuated that it had become a burden? “Money is just a way to keep score,” he’d said. Perhaps he would someday understand, and forgive her.

  But even now, Bree knew she was lying to herself. Even if he was able to accept losing Xendzov Mining—even if he started over and built a successful new company, as Kasimir had—she was making herself his enemy for the rest of his life. The fact that she’d done it to once again save her sister would not gain her any points, either. He would despise her. Forever. Everything between them, every good memory, would be lost.

  Bree walked heavily down the gilded hall, past the arched windows. She heard the sharp tap of her stiletto boots against the marble floor. Brilliant January sunlight reflected off the white snow and sparkling Gulf of Finland. She looked out the windows, and saw sun as warm as his touch. Sky as blue as his eyes.

  Suddenly even walking felt like too much of an effort. She stopped, staring at the floor, her heart in her throat.

  “Breanna. You’re awake.”

  Blinking fast, she looked up. Vladimir was coming down the hall toward her, looking impossibly handsome in a white button-down shirt and black slacks. An ache filled her throat as she looked into the perfect face of the only man she’d ever loved. The man she was about to lose forever.

  “I have something for you. A birthday present.”

  Her voice was hoarse. “You shouldn’t have.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “You can’t already hate it. You don’t even know what it is yet.”

  The warmth of Vladimir’s grin lit up his whole face, making his soul shine through his eyes, making him look like the boy she’d known. Like everything she’d ever wanted.

  Swallowing, she looked down at her stiletto boots. “I’m just not in much of a party mood.”

  He took her hand. She felt his palm against hers, felt his fingers brush against her own as he pulled her gently down the hall. “Come see.”

  He led her into a high-ceilinged room centered around a glossy black grand piano. The conservatory had a wall of windows overlooking the sea. Antique Louis XIV chairs flanked the marble fireplace, and expensive paintings covered the walls, along with shelves of first-edition books.

  “I know you said you didn’t want a fur coat,” Vladimir said. “But if you’re going to live in St. Petersburg, you need some Russian fur to keep you warm….”

  Bree saw a lumpy white fur stole on the pale blue couch beside the window. With an intake of breath, she cried, “Vladimir, I told you—”

  He gave her a crooked half grin. “Just go look.”

  Hesitantly, Bree walked toward the blue couch. She got closer, and the lump of white fur suddenly moved, causing her to jump back with a surprised little squeak. From the pile of fur, a shaggy white head lifted.

  She saw black eyes, a pink tongue and a wagging tail. Vladimir lifted the puppy into her arms.

  “She’s an Ovcharka. A Russian sheepdog.” Lowering his head, he kissed her softly. “Happy birthday, Breanna.”

  With a little bark, the white puppy wiggled her tiny furry body with joy, warm and soft in Bree’s arms. Cuddling the dog close, she looked up at Vladimir’s smiling face, and felt a bullet pierce her throat.

  She burst into tears.

  “Bree, what is it?” He bent over her, his handsome face astonished and worried. “You seemed sad about the dog you’d lost long ago, so I thought… But I see I’ve made a mistake.” He clawed back his dark hair. “It was a stupid idea.”

  “No,” she choked out. She tried to wipe her tears off her cheek with her shoulder. “It was a wonderful idea,” she whispered. “The best in the world.”

  “Then why are you crying?” he said, bewildered.

  Trying to choke back her tears, she buried her face in the dog’s soft, warm fur. “Because I love her.” Looking up, she whispered, with her heart in her throat, “And I love you.”

  He grinned, clearly relieved. “What will you name her?”

  Heartbreak. She stared at him for a long moment, then looked at the windows. “Snowy.”

  “Snowy, huh? Did you put a lot of thought into that?” But the teasing grin slid from his face when she gave him no answering smile. He cleared his throat. “Well, I have one more surprise for you. But you’ll have to wait until dinner to get it.”

  As the day wore on, Bree’s heart broke a little more with each hour. They played with the puppy, then had a delicious late lunch with champagne. Afterward, the palace staff rolled in a giant, lilac-frosted cake on a cart.

  “Chocolate cake,” Vladimir said happily. “With lavender frosting.”

  “Is this my big surprise?” she asked, dreading further kindness.

  “No. And don’t ask me about it. You won’t get it out of me. Even if you use your feminine wiles.”

  He said it as if he were rather hoping she would try. It had been two nights since they’d made love. It felt like a lifetime. The heat in his eyes made her cheeks go hot, along with the rest of her body. Trembling, she pretended not to notice.

  The servants sang Happy Birthday to her in cheerful, slightly off-key English, led by Vladimir’s low, smooth baritone. He lit the two wax candles on the cake—one shaped like a 2, the other a 9.

  He nudged her with his shoulder. “Make a wish.”

  Leaning toward the flickering candles, Bree closed her eyes, wondering what she’d done to deserve this fresh hell. And knowing it wasn’t what she’d done, but what she was about to do.

  She took a deep breath, her wish a silent prayer: I wish I didn’t have to hurt you.

  She blew out the candles, and everyone applauded.

  As the staff departed, after giving Bree their well wishes in a mixture of English and Russian, Vladimir took her in his arms.

  “Do you want to know about your other gift?” he said softly.

  She gulped. “I thought you weren’t going to tell me.”

  “If you kiss me, I might change my mind.”

  But she backed away. “I’m not really in a kissing mood, either,” she mumbled.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the stiffness of his posture, and felt his hurt. “Very well,” he said finally. “It is your special day. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  He paused. She didn’t move. His hands tightened at his sides.

  “So I’ll just tell you what the big surprise is, shall I?” he said. “I’ve bought you a hotel. The Hale Ka’nani Resort.”

  She looked up with a gasp. “What?”

  “You dreamed of someday running a small hotel.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I bought you one.”

  “But the Hale Ka’nani isn’t small! It must have cost millions of dollars!”

  “Two hundred million, actually.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry.” His lips lifted in a smile. “I got a good deal.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “It’s an investment. In you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

  “Because…” he said softly, reaching a hand toward her cheek “…with your brilliant strategic mind, Bree, I’ve always known you were born to rule an empire.”

  Trembling, fighting tears, she stumbled back from his touch.

  “I need to take Snowy for a walk,” she blurted out, and, picking up the puppy, she fled to the white, snow-covered lawn outside. Once there, Bree dawdled, taking as long as she could, until her cheeks and nose felt numb from the cold and even the puppy was whimpering to go back to the warmth inside. It was past dusk when she finally returned to the conservatory, her feet heavy, her heart full of dread.

  To her surprise, the room was empty. The puppy flopped down on a rug near the warm fire, and Bree frowned. “Where is he?�
�� she said aloud.

  The puppy answered with a stretch and a yawn, clearly intending to have a long winter’s nap.

  Bree went down the hall, passing various rooms. Then she saw Vladimir. In the study. At his desk. Signing papers.

  Shock and horror went through her like lightning.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  “There you are.” His voice was cold, and he didn’t bother to look up. He seemed distant—and how could she blame him? “I will join you for a late dinner after I finish this.”

  He was signing the papers by rote, with rapid speed, as if his mind was on something else. She saw Kasimir’s contract peeking out beneath the next paper. “Stop!”

  “I got your message loud and clear, Bree.” He pushed the top paper aside. “You don’t want anything from me. You can’t even bear to look at me—”

  As he reached, unseeing, for Kasimir’s contract, Bree suddenly knew.

  She couldn’t let him sign it. She couldn’t betray him.

  She couldn’t.

  With a choked gasp, Bree flung herself across his study and blocked him the only way she knew how. Shoving his chair back, she threw her leg over him, straddling him, separating him physically from his desk. Tangling her hands in his hair, pressing her body against his, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  At first he froze. For one dreadful instant she thought he would push her away. Then a sound like a low sigh came from the back of his throat, and his powerful arms wrapped around her. His lips melted roughly against hers.

  The pen in his hand dropped to the floor. The pile of papers on his desk was forgotten.

  Holding her against his chest, Vladimir rose and, in a savage movement, swept the papers off his desk. Pressing her back against the polished oak, he looked down at her with eyes so full of emotion that her heart caught in her throat.

  “Now, Bree,” he said hoarsely, as he lowered his mouth to hers. “I need you now.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  VLADIMIR had never felt such fire.

  Bree had never initiated lovemaking before. The heat of her passion, in contrast to her earlier ice, burned through his body, incinerating his soul. Moments before, he’d felt dark and angry, rebuffed in all his efforts to show he cared, to make her birthday special, and to compensate for those three little words he could not say.