The Master

by Kresley Cole

  I was also going to see Dmitri. I was nervous about that, but optimistic since he'd wanted to meet. Maxim remained committed to reuniting his brothers, and thought Dmitri visiting with someone who was a big fan of Aleks and Natalie could only help.

  Also going to Russia? Scrappy Miami mutts. Maxim and I had kind of gotten three discerning dogs. At the pound, I hadn't been able to pick between a trio of badass brutes. He'd frowned. "Why choose, solnyshko?" He bribed them as shamelessly as he spoiled me.

  I hoped the pack didn't trash the jet (as they had the Bentley and Vasili's shoes!).

  After our visit to the motherland, I planned for Maxim to take me to Paris--so I could experience the infamous Le Libertin club. I'd become an ardent and aggressive fan of my Russian's kinks. Late last night, I'd still been primed after our earlier marathon session. I'd woken him by trailing the end of a rope along his torso. "You like me when you tie me up?"

  He'd groaned, "I love the fuck out of you, woman, but I think I've created a monster."

  Sigh. I loved the fuck out of him too. He was the man I was always supposed to be with. Muchas gracias, Botox.

  Ivanna would've been here for my ceremony, but she was overseeing the reroofing of my old apartment building. Maxim had given me the property for our second month anniversary. I'd asked Ivanna--a seriously savvy businesswoman--to manage it.

  Yes, Maxim had set her family up financially, but she'd needed something to do. As she'd told me, "There's only so many times I can take my mother and sister to Disney World. The song 'It's a Small World' gives me hives."

  Shadwell had lined his pockets so heavily, the apartments had turned a profit from month one.

  I'd finally learned how the man had discovered my hidden "safe." The perv had secretly filmed me and other female residents.

  But the strangest thing had happened--Shadwell had . . . disappeared. Never to be seen again! I'd asked Vasili if he knew anything about this. The man had said, "Al-ee-gahtor accident?"

  Now the name of the game for that apartment complex was repairs. We planned to turn it into the neighborhood's oasis. Already people's lives were so much better.

  In the meantime, Maxim and I eyed our next acquisition. We'd been working together every day, plotting to take over Miami. As we read reports and evaluated holdings, the dogs lazed at our feet.

  He and I took plenty of time off for cafecitos, and each night we jogged and cooked. On weekends, we'd go boating, exploring islands and keys. Often he would use persuasion to make me shop. Well, when the vendors just showed up, I guessed I could.

  For my birthday, we'd visited Martinez Beach and my childhood home. It'd been emotional, but I'd gotten excited when Maxim found an architect--who could actually take that one room off the house. Why the hell not?

  I thought my dad would've liked Maxim. Would my mother? I didn't know; it didn't matter. Though Maxim's endowment to my college in her name couldn't have hurt things. . . .

  Shortly after our move to the island, he'd made a formal proposal (with an obscenely large marquise-cut diamond ring). I'd asked him to give me more time. True to his word, he'd proposed every week.

  He'd asked again yesterday.

  I glanced from behind the curtain at my Russian. His gaze found and locked on mine. Look at him. I sighed.

  Only one more person was left before the dean called my name! I blew Maxim a kiss, then ducked back behind the curtain. With a grin, I peeled off the cover I'd affixed to my graduation cap, revealing the hidden message I'd written. I would tip it to Maxim, make the man's day and all.

  "Ana-Lucia 'Cat' Martinez. Summa Cum Laude."

  As I strode across the stage, I canted my head so my Russian could read . . .

  YES YES YES

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to Carmen S. for all your translation help! You helped make Cat into one of my favorite heroines to date.

  And as ever, I'd like to thank the talented team who help me get books to readers in the best shape possible.

  To Dr. Bridget, for making sure all of my medical details are on point. Though I did run with the contraceptive shot (there could be one in the U.S. soon, right?).

  To Dr. Beth, for your psychological insight into character motivations. You floor me every time.

  To the production department at Simon & Schuster. I know this one was a doozy. Chocolate AND booze TK.

  To Elana Cohen, for somehow keeping me on track as we published six books in three genres over nineteen months. This project alone should get you a promotion and a crazy raise (your move, S&S, your move).

  To Robin Rue, for your invaluable guidance during these exciting times in publishing!

  To Lauren McKenna, this is our twenty-fifth book, baby! You give each and every one flavor and heart.

  And to Swede, you scrub through manuscripts like M-O from Wall-E. Only you're cuter.