Rich Man's Revenge. Katherine Garbera
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as Vladimir remembered that long-lost adoration in his brother’s eyes, his heart gave a strange, sickening jump in his chest. Tightening his jaw, he pushed the memory away. He looked at Bree.
“No one will ever threaten you or yours again.”
Her lips parted. “What will you do?”
He narrowed his eyes. “They threatened to break a child’s legs,” he said roughly. “So I’ll break every bone in their bodies. First their legs. Then their arms. Then—”
“Who are you?” she cried.
He stopped, surprised at the horror on her face. “What?”
“You’re so ruthless.” She swallowed. “There is no mercy in you. It’s true what they say.”
“You expect me to, what—give them a cookie and tuck them into bed?”
“No, but—” she spread her arms helplessly “—break every single bone? You don’t just want to win, you want to crush them. Torture them. You’ve become the kind of man who …” Her eyes seared his. “Who’d destroy his own brother.”
For a moment, Vladimir was speechless. Then he glared at her. “Kasimir made his own choice. When I wouldn’t listen to his words about you, he told the story to a reporter. He betrayed me, and when I suggested we split up our partnership, it was his choice to agree—”
“You deliberately cheated your own brother,” she interrupted, “out of millions of dollars. And you’ve spent ten years trying to destroy him. You don’t just get revenge, Vladimir. You deal a double dose of pain—breaking not just their legs, but their arms!”
Pacing two steps, he clawed back his dark hair angrily. “What would you have me do, Breanna? Let them threaten you? Pay them off? Let them win? Let my brother take over my company? Not defend myself?”
“But you don’t just defend yourself,” she said. “You’re ruthless. And you revel in it.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Has it made you happy, Vladimir? Has destroying other people’s lives made yours better?”
He flashed hot, then cold. As they faced each other, naked without touching, in a bedroom deep with shadows and frosted with moonlight, a mixture of emotions raced through his bloodstream that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—emotions he could barely recognize.
Bree took a deep, ragged breath.
“I loved you. I loved the honest, openhearted man you were.” Tears glistened like icicles against her pale skin. “The truth is, I love him still.”
Vladimir sucked in his breath. What was she saying?
“But the man you are now …” She looked at him. “I hate the man you’ve become, Vladimir,” she whispered. “I hate you now. With all my heart.”
He took a single staggering step. He held out his hand and heard his own hoarse, shaking voice. “Bree …”
“No!” She nearly fell off the bed to avoid his touch. Snatching the crumpled, pink silk robe off the floor, she covered her naked body. “I should never have let you touch me. Ever!”
She fled from the bedroom, racing down the hall.
For an instant, Vladimir stood frozen, paralyzed with shock.
Then, narrowing his eyes, he yanked on a pair of jeans and followed her grimly. Downstairs, he heard the door that led to the pool bang. He followed the sound outside. From the corner of his eye, beneath dark silhouettes of palm trees against the sapphire sky, he saw a pale flash going down the cliff toward the beach.
He followed. Striding around the pool, he pushed through the gate and went down steps chiseled into the rock, leading to the private, white-sand beach. At the bottom, surrounded by the noisy roar of the surf lapping the sand at his feet, he looked right and left.
Where was she?
The large Hawaiian moon glowed like an opalescent pearl across the dark blue velvet ocean, its light sparkling like diamonds.
I loved the honest, openhearted man you were. Her poignant words echoed in his mind. I hate the man you’ve become.
Closing his eyes, he thought of how he’d spent the past ten years, constantly proving to himself how hard and heartless he could be. Betraying others before they could even think of turning on him.
Half the world called him ruthless; the other half called him corrupt. Vladimir had worn their hatred like a badge of honor. He’d told himself that it was the fate of every powerful man to be despised. It only proved he’d succeeded. He’d conquered the world. He’d just never thought it would be so …
Meaningless. Bleakly, he looked out toward the dark waves of the Pacific.
Has it made you happy? Has destroying other people’s lives made yours better?
The warm breeze felt cool against his bare skin. He’d loved her so recklessly. The night he’d proposed to her, in front of the crackling fire that dark, cold Christmas, had been the happiest of his life.
Until Kasimir had burst into her cabin and called Vladimir a fool for falling into a con woman’s trap. The fighting had woken up her kid sister upstairs, so after tossing his brother out, he’d gone back to his hotel alone. He’d been woken by the ringing of his cell phone—and questions from a Wall Street Journal reporter.
Vladimir put a hand to his forehead.
For the past ten years, this woman he’d called a liar and a whore had been quietly working minimum-wage jobs, in a desperate attempt to provide an honest life for her young sister. While he …
Vladimir exhaled. He’d done exactly what she said. He’d cut all mercy from his heart, to make damn sure no one ever made a fool of him again. He’d closed himself off completely from every human feeling, and he’d tried to eradicate the memory of the woman who’d once broken him.
The moon retreated behind a cloud, and he saw a shadow move. He stumbled down the beach, and as the moon burst out of the darkness, he saw her.
Silvery light frosted the dark silhouette of her body as she rose like Venus from the waves. His heart twisted in his chest.
Breanna.
BREE stood alone in the surf, staring bleakly out at the moonlit ocean, wishing she was far, far away from Hawaii. She felt the waves against her bare thighs, felt the sand squish beneath her toes. She shivered in the warm night, wishing she was a million miles away.
How could she have given him her virginity?
How could she have let him kiss her, touch her, make her explode with pleasure? How?
Allowing Vladimir to make love to her had brought back all the memories of the way she’d once loved him. How could she have allowed herself to be so vulnerable? Why hadn’t she been able to protect herself, to keep her heart cold?
Because he’d always known how to get past all her defenses. Always. He hadn’t forced her. He hadn’t needed to. All he’d done was kiss her, and she’d surrendered, melting into his arms. And she’d been able to hold nothing back. Her feelings had come pouring out of her lips. How she’d loved him.
How she hated him.
When Vladimir had said that no one would ever threaten her or Josie again, she’d been relieved. Grateful, even. Then he’d spoken with such relish about breaking all their bones.
Bree had no love for the men who’d made their lives a misery over the past ten years. But she would have paid back every penny if she could. And seeing Vladimir, the prince she’d loved at eighteen, turned into this … this monster... was