Rich Man's Revenge: Dealing Her Final Card / Seducing His Opposition / A Reputation For Revenge. Jennie Lucas
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exhaled. Breanna.
She made him feel, after years of deadness. She’d brought pleasure. Yearning. Anger. Guilt. Desire. All wrapped up in a chaotic ball. He felt as if he’d just woken out of a coma, after years of dull gray sleep.
Perhaps he was incapable of love, with a soul twisted and gnarled like a tree split by lightning. He’d told her the truth: he’d never be the man he’d once been—naive and trusting enough to give away the shirt off his back. Not even for a woman like her.
Barely hearing his COO’s voice, Vladimir looked through the window of his villa’s home office. The bright Hawaiian dawn was burning through the low-swept morning clouds still kissing the green earth. The sky was turning blue, as blue as the sparkling ocean below.
He had the sudden memory of Breanna rising from the waves in the moonlight last night, her short silk robe stuck to her like a second skin as rivulets of water streamed down her breasts to her thighs. Vladimir shuddered, turning instantly hard. Instead of satiating him, making love to her had only increased his hunger.
“… So what should we do, Your Highness?” his COO finished anxiously.
Vladimir blinked, realizing he hadn’t been listening to the man for the past ten minutes. But he suddenly felt bored by business matters—completely bored. Even though it involved his brother. “What is your opinion?”
“We’ll have someone at our Alaska site infiltrate your brother’s mining operation to see if the data is accurate. If it is, we can try to influence the political process to delay their building. We could even consider some kind of sabotage at the mine. Although of course it would in no way be traceable back to you, sir….”
You’re ruthless. And you revel in it. The realization of how low he’d sunk caused Vladimir to flinch. “No.”
“But, Your Highness …”
“I said no.” Clawing back his hair, he paced across his office with his phone at his ear, prowling in circles around his desk.
“So what are your orders, Your Highness? How shall we make sure your brother does not succeed?”
Vladimir abruptly stopped. He’d been wrong about Breanna.
Could he have similarly been wrong about Kasimir, overreacting to his brother’s betrayal?
It was an accident. His brother’s voice had been muffled, humble, on the phone the next day from St. Petersburg. When you wouldn’t believe me, I was angry and drunk at the airport bar. I didn’t realize the man sitting next to me was a reporter for the Anchorage Herald. Forgive me, Volodya.
Vladimir’s hands tightened into fists. But he hadn’t accepted the apology. He’d been angry, humiliated, haunted. And he feared his stupidity might jeopardize the Siberian mining rights that were about to come through, rights that could make or break the fledgling company. “If you can’t trust my leadership, we should end this partnership.”
“Leadership? I thought we were supposed to be equals,” his brother had retorted. When Vladimir maintained a frosty silence, Kasimir had said harshly, “Fine. I’ll keep the rights in Africa and South America. And you can go to hell.”
Vladimir had been angry enough to let his brother go without telling him about the Siberian rights worth potentially half a billion dollars. He’d effectively cheated Kasimir out of his half.
Perhaps … He took a deep breath. Perhaps Kasimir had some cause to seek revenge against him.
“You will do nothing.” Now, Vladimir stared out the window toward the palm trees and blue sky. “My brother’s operation in Alaska does not affect us. Leave him alone. May the best company win.”
“But, sir!”
“Xendzov Mining can win in a fair fight.”
“Of course we can!” the man replied indignantly. He continued in a bewildered voice, “It’s just that we’ve never tried.”
“No more dirty tricks,” Vladimir said harshly.
“It will be harder—”
“Deal with it.”
The man cleared his throat. “You were expected in St. Petersburg today for the signing of the Arctic Oil merger. How long do you wish us to delay …?”
Vladimir gritted his teeth. “I will be at the office tomorrow.”
“Good.” He audibly exhaled. “With ten billion dollars on the line, we don’t want anything to—”
“Tomorrow.” Vladimir hung up. Tossing his phone on his desk, he left the study, with its computers and piles of paperwork. Walking outside to the courtyard, he stopped by the pool. Closing his eyes, he turned his face toward the bright morning sun. He felt the warmth of the golden light, and took a breath of the exotic, flower-scented air.
I think the man I love is still inside you.
He’s dead and gone.
Are you sure?
Slowly, Vladimir opened his eyes. He looked up at the twenty-million-dollar mansion that he’d bought as a refuge, but which had felt like a prison.
Bree Dalton had brought it to life. As she’d done to him.
But what right did he have to keep her prisoner?
He’d told himself she deserved it. She was the one who’d betrayed him ten years ago, then foolishly wagered her body in a card game. Let her finally face the consequences of her actions.
He paced around the edge of the pool, then stopped, clawing back his hair. But she’d offered her body in desperation. He’d abandoned her without a penny in Alaska, with men threatening them for money. And yet, even under that pressure, Bree had managed to come through the fire with a soul as pure as steel.
He still wanted to find those men and break their legs, their arms. Every bone in their bodies. But there was something he wanted even more.
He wanted Breanna.
His long-dormant conscience stirred, telling him he had no right to keep her. If he truly believed that she’d never meant to betray him, that she’d wagered herself only to protect her little sister, then he should let her go. If he kept her as his slave, it would make him no better than the criminals who’d imprisoned her with debts. He was selfish, but not a monster.
Wasn’t he?
Pushing the thought away, he pulled out his cell phone and made a few calls. One to an investigator. The other to his secretary, to arrange a Russian visa. Then he picked a wild orchid from the garden and went back inside the house. He’d given his household staff the day off, after Mrs. Kalani’s reaction to his treatment of Bree yesterday. So the enormous kitchen was quiet as he made her a breakfast tray. Putting the orchid in a vase, he walked up the stairs to their bedroom.
Breanna was still drowsing in bed. But as he pushed open the door, she sat up, tucking the sheet modestly over her naked breasts.
“Good morning,” she said shyly.
Vladimir went to the bed. She looked so innocent and fresh and pretty, the epitome of everything good. He put the breakfast tray into her lap. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“I am.” Her cheeks blushed a soft pink as she looked down at the tray, with its toast and fresh fruit and fragrant flower. “Thank you.” Looking up, she gave him a sudden wicked smile. “Last night left me really, really hungry.”
The bright, teasing look on her face took his breath away. He said abruptly, “I have to go to St. Petersburg today.”
Her face fell. “Oh.” Looking away, she said stiffly, “Well. Good. I’ll be glad to be free of you.”
“Too bad.” Turning her face roughly, he cupped her cheek. “You’re