A Reputation For Revenge. Jennie Lucas
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too busy thinking about how his own recent plan to embarrass his brother had blown up in his face.
Kasimir had long despised Bree Dalton, the con artist he blamed for the first rift between the brothers ten years ago. All this time, he’d kept track of her from a distance, waiting for her to go back to her old ways (she hadn’t) or to agree to let Josie marry him to get the land (she wouldn’t, and he could go to hell for asking).
Kasimir had finally decided to try another way: Josie herself.
Until they’d met at the Salad Shack a few days ago, all he’d known of Josie was in a file from a private investigator, with a grainy photograph. Six months ago in Seattle, the man had tested her by dropping a wallet full of cash in the aisle of a grocery store in front of her. Josie had run two blocks after the man’s car, catching up with him at a stoplight, to breathlessly give the wallet back, untouched. “Girl’s so honest, she’s a nut,” the investigator had grumbled.
So finally, Kasimir had come to a decision. Knowing his brother was recuperating from a recent car-racing injury in Oahu with a private weekly poker game at the Hale Ka’nani, he’d bribed the general manager of the resort, Greg Hudson, to hire the Dalton sisters as housekeepers. He’d hoped Vladimir would have a run-in with Bree Dalton, causing him a humiliating scene, but that was just an amusement. Kasimir’s real goal in coming here had been to try to negotiate for the land, and the requisite marriage, directly with Josie Dalton.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d flung her soda at him and run out. Or that, according to the report he’d gotten from Greg Hudson, not only had there been no screaming match between Vladimir and Bree, they’d apparently fallen into each other’s arms at the poker game. Bree had won back the entire amount of her sister’s wager, then promptly accepted Vladimir’s offer to a single-card draw between them—a million dollars versus possession of Bree.
Reintroducing the formerly engaged couple to happiness after ten years of estrangement, had never been Kasimir’s plan. For the past day and a half, he’d been grinding his teeth in fury. He’d spent last night dancing at a club, women hitting on him right and left, until even that started to irritate him, and he’d gone home early—and alone.
Then, like a miracle, he’d been woken from sleep with the news that Josie Dalton was here and wished to marry him after all.
And now, here she was. He had her. She’d just changed his whole world—forever.
He could have kissed her.
“I will be happy to get you a cake,” he said fervently. “And a designer wedding gown, and a ten-carat diamond ring.” Reaching for her hand, he kissed it, then looked into her eyes. “Just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. He felt her hand tremble in his own before she yanked it away. “Just bring my sister home. Safely away from your brother.”
“You have my word. Soon.” He rose to his feet. “I must call my lawyer. In the meantime, please take some time to rest.” He gestured to the bookshelves of first-edition books. “Read, if you like. Your breakfast will be here at any moment.” He gave a slight bow. “Please excuse me.”
“Kasimir?”
He froze. Had Josie somehow guessed his plans? Was it possible her expressive brown eyes had seen right through his twisted, heartless soul? Hands clenched at his sides, body taut, Kasimir turned back to face her.
Josie’s eyes were shining, her expression bright as a new penny, as she leaned back against the sofa pillows. His gaze traced unwillingly over the patterns on her skin, along the curve of her full breasts beneath her T-shirt, left by the soft morning light.
“Thank you for saving my sister,” she whispered. She took a deep breath. “And me.”
Uneasiness went through him, but he shook it away from his well-armored soul. He gave her a stiff nod. “We will both benefit from this arrangement. Both of us,” he repeated stonily, squashing his conscience like a newly sprouted weed.
“But I’ll never forget it,” she said softly, looking at him with gratitude that approached hero-worship. Her brown eyes glowed, and she was far more beautiful than he’d first realized. “I don’t care what people say. You’re a good man.”
His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned away from her. Once he reached his home office, he phoned his chief lawyer to arrange the prenuptial agreement and discuss ways to break Josie’s trust as quickly as possible. The discussion took longer than expected. When Kasimir returned to the library an hour later, he found Josie curled up fast asleep on the sofa, with a cold, untouched breakfast tray on the table beside her.
Kasimir looked down at her. She looked so young, sleeping. Had he ever been that young? She couldn’t be more than twenty-two, eleven years younger than he was, and more stupidly innocent than he’d been at that age. In spite of himself, he felt an unwelcome desire to take care of her. To protect her.
His jaw set. And so he would. For as long as she was his prisoner—that was to say, his wife.
He reached a hand out to wake her, then stopped. He looked down at the gray shadows beneath her eyes. No. Let her sleep. Their wedding could wait a few hours. She deserved a place to rest, a safe harbor. And so he would be for her….
Carefully, he picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her upstairs to the guest room. Without turning on the light, he set her gently on the mattress, beside the blue silk pillows. He stepped back, looking down at her in the shadowy room.
He heard her sweetly wistful voice. I do love a good wedding cake with buttercream-frosting roses.
Kasimir had told her the truth. She would be his only wife. He never intended to have a real marriage. Or trust any human soul enough to give them the ability to stab him in the back. This would be as close as he’d ever get to holy matrimony. For the few brief weeks of the marriage, Josie Dalton would be the closest he’d ever have to a wife. To a family.
He took a deep breath. She’d make an exceptional wife for any man. She was an old-fashioned kind of woman, the kind they didn’t make anymore. From his investigator’s reports, he knew Josie was ridiculously honest and scrupulously kind. Six months ago, a different private investigator had her under surveillance in Seattle. He’d dressed as a homeless street person, which should have rendered him invisible. Not to Josie, though. “She came right up to me to ask if I was all right,” the man reported in amazement, “or if I needed anything. Then she insisted on giving me her brown-bag lunch.” He’d smiled. “Peanut butter and jelly!”
What kind of girl did that? Who had a heart that unjaded and, well—soft?
Unlike Vladimir and Bree, unlike Kasimir himself, Josie deserved to be protected. She was an innocent. She’d done nothing to earn the well-deserved revenge he planned for the other two.
Even though it would still hurt her.
He felt another spasm beneath his solar plexus.
Guilt, he realized in shock. He hadn’t felt that emotion for a long time. He wouldn’t let it stop him. But he’d be as gentle as he could to her.
Turning away from Josie’s sleeping form, he went back downstairs to his home office. He phoned his head secretary, and ten minutes later, he was contacted by Honolulu’s top wedding planner. Afterward, he tossed his phone onto his desk.
Swiveling his chair, he looked out the window overlooking the penthouse’s rooftop pool. Bright sunlight glimmered over the blue water, and beyond that, he could see the city and the distant ocean melting into the blue sky.
For ten years, he’d been wearing Vladimir down, fighting his company tooth and claw with his own, getting his attention the only way he knew how—by making him pay with tiny stings, death by a thousand cuts.
But getting Bree Dalton to betray Vladimir would be the deepest cut of all. The fatal one.
Rising