Make You Mine

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Indeed,” she said. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

  He was leafing through the hangers, examining the quite frankly excessive collection of dresses and gowns he’d brought along for her. “I think perhaps … this.”

  It was not, much to her relief, the shimmering golden gown, but the green silk cocktail dress with the whisper-thin straps. Which meant no bra and, because the skirt was short, no thigh holster either.

  “Of course,” she said levelly. “If you’ll give me five minutes, I’ll put it on.”

  He came over and laid the dress on the bed, then turned, the look in his eyes glinting. “I would do it now if I were you. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Certainly.” She paused, waiting for him to leave the room. But he didn’t move and a slow realization began to dawn inside of her.

  God in heaven. He wanted her to get dressed in front of him.

  Her shock must have been obvious, because he said smoothly, “Like I said, we need to be comfortable with each other, Katya mine, and a little mutual nakedness definitely helps that along.”

  She’d undressed in front of people all the time in the army. There was no privacy in an army barracks after all. Yes, it had only been in front of women, but that didn’t matter. Her body was a well-maintained, well-oiled machine and she’d never been self-conscious or embarrassed about it. But this was different. Alex wasn’t a fellow soldier; he was a client, her employer.

  A man …

  His gaze was bright edged, a shard of blue glass. And she knew that despite what he’d said, he was angry. And that he was punishing her for the slip down in the foyer.

  By rights she should be offended and outraged at his suggestion. Yet it wasn’t either of those emotions that gripped her but something else. A strange thrill. A sense of her own power like the one she’d had on the plane. Almost as if she wanted to be naked in front of him just to see what his response would be. A challenge …

  He was so arrogant. So insolent. Well, if he was expecting some kind of protest from her, he was out of luck. She wasn’t going to give him one.

  “Of course, sir,” she said calmly.

  Katya stepped back from him, and keeping her eyes on a point somewhere in the middle of the tanned skin of his chest, she began to unbutton the tight white blouse she wore in brisk, economical movements. Taking it off, then folding it neatly on the bed. She’d gotten rid of her shoes before her nap, so she proceeded straight on to unzipping her skirt and pushing it down, folding that neatly too and putting it on top of the blouse.

  She could feel his surprise like a pulse in the air and a deep pleasure twisted inside her. Being able to surprise him shouldn’t matter to her, but for some reason it did. It made her feel strong in a way that had nothing to do with physical strength or with following orders. With being a perfect soldier. Perhaps she should have questioned it, yet she didn’t. It made her want to push even more.

  Ignoring him, she reached behind herself to unhook her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders, dropping the bra on top of her skirt.

  Alex said nothing. But she could feel him watching her, could sense his surprise deepening into shock. It made her feel even more powerful.

  Katya put her hands on her hips and pushed down her plain black underwear without hesitation. She stepped out of it, folding it as neatly as she’d folded everything else and putting it on top of the skirt. Then she turned to face him, completely naked, and looked him in the eye.

  He stood there very still, the expression on his face taut. That angry glitter had faded completely from his eyes and she had the sense that he was struggling to keep himself composed and his gaze on hers, to not look down the length of her body.

  That he was even trying not to was a victory she hadn’t anticipated. That feeling of power spread through her, unfamiliar and unexpected. How was it that she could stand naked in front of a fully clothed man and yet be the one with the advantage? How could she be the one holding all the cards?

  However that worked, she would take it.

  “Do you mind if I have a shower first, sir?” she asked coolly. “I’d appreciate it if so.”

  “Go.” The word was brusque and rough. “Have your shower. I’ll be waiting in the lounge.”

  And this time it was he who turned away.

  He who left the room without a word.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Shame and lust sat in Alex’s gut. An uncomfortable, volatile mix. Years ago he’d sworn he’d never let himself feel it again, not after what had happened in his father’s casino. Alex had almost drowned in humiliation back then, the shame of the rape a piece of sharp glass that kept cutting him to shreds even after he’d escaped to Gabriel’s scummy apartment.

  His only comfort then had been the fact that no one knew about it. But then he’d gotten the news of his father’s suicide and he’d wondered if somehow Conrad had told him. And he had …

  But no. Daniel St. James couldn’t have known. Because surely Conrad wouldn’t have been so brazen. Whatever, it didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at Alex for that too. For the way he’d run, escaping without a word. Leaving behind the father he’d loved and who’d needed him.

  From then on he’d decided that if he wanted to survive the guilt and the shame, if he wanted to leave it behind forever, he’d have to end his own existence too. Not suicide, since he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that, but nevertheless finding an end somehow. A way to stop being Alexander St. James, the good son, a credit to his beloved father and light of his proud mother’s life. Adored older brother to his little sister.

  So he had. He’d become someone else entirely. Strong and confident. Someone who did whatever the hell he wanted and didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone, still less be ashamed of who he was.

  Yet for the first time in years, as he sat with Katya in the palatial VIP area of the Fourth Circle, he felt that shame again like a hot coal in his gut.

  The party had gotten to the raucous stage, packed with the rich and famous of Monaco who’d turned out for Alex’s secret party in droves. The dim lighting of wall sconces and Eastern lampshades of colored glass cast glittering reflections off gowns and luminous bare skin, jeweled cuff links and expensive watches. People lounged on red velvet couches or sprawled in large armchairs if they were lucky to find seating. If they weren’t they leaned against the opulent red silk walls or stood in groups if they could find a clear space.

  Above the crowd, hanging from silken ribbons attached to the ceiling, Katie-Lee, dressed in nothing but a see-through sequined red bikini, did her burlesque act, the ribbons wrapping around her long legs as she spun and stretched like a trapeze artist.

  On the red velvet couch beside him, Katya sat with her legs elegantly crossed, encased in the green silk cocktail dress that left most of her shoulders and a long expanse of thigh exposed. Her hands were folded in her lap, resting on her matching green silk clutch. He had an arm around her waist and he could feel the warmth of her beneath his palm.

  Her muscles were relaxed, but that didn’t mean she would be. He knew that sharp gaze would be scanning the room, looking for threats. And the reason her long fingers rested on her clutch was because her weapon was inside it, within reach.

  Since they’d come down to the party, she hadn’t put a foot wrong, acting the part of his girlfriend to perfection. Before they’d even gotten to Monaco, Alex had worked out a small fiction about where they’d met, at a Second Circle party, and what she did for a living—a model for Russian Vogue visiting the States. No one would enquire closer. No one would be interested in yet another of his girlfriends.

  The VIP area was full of people lounging around on the other couches. Acquaintances of his, and others he’d admitted for political reasons. A famous actress. A singer. A media magnate and his entourage.

  Alex had been subtly trying to get information about Conrad and the upcoming Apocalypse game from various different people, but he hadn’t learned any
thing useful. At least nothing he wouldn’t be able to find out at the upcoming reception in any case.

  A glass of vodka sat on the table in front of him, and even though he was on to his third it still wasn’t enough to douse the ember of shame that refused to burn out.

  The one that told him he’d gone too far with Katya up in the bedroom. That he’d crossed a line.

  He turned his head, looking out over the crowds of people, very conscious of the woman who sat beside him, as simple and elegant in her green cocktail dress as a stalk of fresh grass in a field of overblown hibiscus flowers.

  He knew now what lay beneath all that green silk: Long, lean muscles. Smooth, pale skin. Small, perfectly round breasts. A thatch of silky blond curls.

  She’d stood there naked and proud, with her chin raised, steadily meeting his gaze. Her cheeks had been flushed, but she hadn’t been embarrassed in the slightest. In her eyes had only been courage and determination, a strength of will he’d sensed yet not fully understood until then.

  That had been the moment he’d felt the shame creep over him. Shame at himself for what he’d made her do, for punishing her when it was his own unease about Conrad he was taking out on her.

  And along with that shame, a spear of complete and absolute lust.

  Because she was beautiful, all sleek muscle and a honed strength that only seemed to emphasize her femininity. Christ, he’d wanted her. In a way he hadn’t wanted anyone else in years, and that was one hell of a fucking problem.

  The balance of power had shifted between them and he’d felt it the moment she’d taken her clothes off, without protest. Without embarrassment. That had been the moment he’d lost the game. The moment she’d won.

  And that rendered her completely untouchable. When it came to lovers, he had to be the one in charge, the one who held all the power. There was no negotiation, no compromise. If he wasn’t calling the shots, then he didn’t get laid. Simple as that.

  Katya shifted beside him and he felt the muscles of her thigh bunch, then relax beneath his palm. Strong, sleek. A beautiful female animal. Trained to fight. To kill. To protect …

  An ache clenched hard inside him and he couldn’t breathe. How long had it been since he’d wanted something he couldn’t let himself have? Too long. Perhaps he’d never done so. But however long it had been, he couldn’t have her. Completely apart from the fact that she was his employee, she would never surrender willingly to him. And he couldn’t have it any other way.

  Alex let his hand drop away from her, moving to put some space between them, leaning forward to get his vodka and take a sip. He was aware of her glancing at him, that familiar crease between her fair brows. Probably puzzling about him again.

  Christ, he was a prick. He shouldn’t have even started this game with her. She wasn’t a player like he was. She had far too much integrity for the kind of shit he liked to pull. Far too much honor.

  Beneath the scent of expensive aftershave and perfume, spilled alcohol and the sweat of too many people, he could smell the sharp, faint scent of oranges—

  Disturbed by the combination of shame and lust, by the way it reminded him of too many things he’d spent too many years trying to forget, he abruptly got to his feet.

  “Alex?” She spoke quietly and yet he still heard her through the noise around him, her accent caressing his name like a prayer. “Where are you going?”

  “To get another drink,” he muttered. “I’ll be back.”

  With his staff circulating around the place, he didn’t actually need to move to get a drink, but he couldn’t sit there with her any longer, not with that fucking mess of emotions sitting inside him like a lead weight.

  Going down the stairs of the stage that set the VIP area apart from the masses, he began to thread his way through the crowd, moving toward the bar. People greeted him as he went and he stopped to chat every so often, smiling, acting the gracious host, pretending, like he always did, that he was having the time of his life.

  When he got to the polished black wood of the bar, he turned and leaned against it, staring out over the crowd, his heart beating fast. He didn’t look toward the VIP area and Katya, keeping his gaze on the shifting mass of people.

  He felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. As if he couldn’t stand the noise, couldn’t stand the crowds. As if he wanted to be somewhere quiet and dark and silent. Alone.

  “Mr. St. James?”

  He turned sharply. Beside him a beautiful blonde stood leaning against the bar. She wore a red sequined dress with a plunging neckline that displayed the curves of her generous breasts to perfection. Her pouty mouth was the same color as her dress and was turned up in a seductive smile.

  And he felt relieved because this was familiar. This kind of game he’d played many times before, and she was clearly a woman who knew all the rules.

  He leaned his hip against the bar. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

  Her eyelashes fell halfway, the deep blue of her eyes glinting up at him. “Oh, I just wanted to say thanks for the great party. This place is fantastic.” Her accent was British, London from the sounds of it.

  Not as sexy as Katya’s.

  Alex pushed thoughts of Katya from his head. Perhaps this was what he needed to get rid of all these unwanted emotions. A woman, rather than vodka. Sex, his other drug of choice.

  “Glad you think so. Can I get you a drink? Champagne maybe? On the house of course.”

  Her smile deepened and it was as fake as her breasts, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t after sincerity. Or integrity. Or honor. Or pride. He didn’t even particularly want her. Sometimes all he really craved was oblivion.

  “How did you know?” She moved closer, put a hand on the bar next to his, her fingers almost brushing the tips of his own. “I’d love a glass of—”

  “Alex,” a smoky Russian voice said. “There you are. I wondered where you’d got to.”

  A tall, slender body moved in between him and the woman in the red dress, an arm winding around his waist in a proprietary fashion. Green eyes met his, a spark of what looked like anger glinting in the depths. “You should not leave me like that, darling,” Katya purred. “I was all alone.”

  He didn’t move, a shock of desire swamping him. A desire that hadn’t been there until she’d shown up. Behind Katya, the woman in the red dress was frowning, a distinctly pissed-off look on her face.

  Jesus. Though he never committed himself to any single lover, he didn’t usually go off and start flirting with someone else while the woman he was sleeping with was in the vicinity. But of course he wasn’t sleeping with Katya, and he’d forgotten for an instant who she was supposed to be. This time it was his fault. He was the one who’d slipped up.

  Meeting Katya’s gaze, he held himself still, trying to ignore the way every sense he had seemed to be attuned to her arm around his waist and the nearness of her body to his. “My apologies, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I was just getting a drink. As you can see.”

  She put a hand to his chest, letting it rest there. “I’m not sure it’s a drink you’re after.” Turning her head slightly to include the woman standing behind her, she said, “Sorry, but I’m going to have to steal my boyfriend away. We have some business to attend to.”

  A flash of anger crossed the blonde’s face, anger that was out of proportion to a simple thwarted seduction, but Alex didn’t have time to work out why that was because Katya had stepped back, was lacing her hand in his and starting to lead him away.

  He didn’t protest, allowing her to pull him through the crowd a little way before he stopped dead, pulling her up short. “Nice show of possessiveness, Katya mine. You do the jealous girlfriend very well. Did you practice that in the shower?”

  She turned on him, the lines of her face set, a fierce look in her eyes. “You need to come with me,” she said quietly, forcefully, ignoring his tone. “I have to talk to you.”

  A petulant, childish anger flared into life, but he fought it down, determined n
ot to give in to the emotions she seemed to draw from him so easily. Raising a brow, he said, “And since when do you get to issue the orders?”

  She stepped closer, specks of angry gold glinting in her eyes. “Since I’ve been given the job of protecting your life. And since you don’t seem to take that very seriously, I have to.”

  “But my life isn’t in any—”

  “We need to have a discussion, Alex,” she said fiercely, enunciating his name very clearly. “And we need to have it now.”

  What the hell? What had brought this on?

  A petty thought occurred to him. Perhaps she really was jealous.

  Why the fuck would you think that? For her to be jealous she’d have to feel something for you, and she doesn’t.

  Jesus, this situation really was starting to slip out of his control if he found that disappointing. Time to claim some of the power back.

  “Sure,” he said easily. “We can go to my office. It’s near the bar.”

  Without waiting to see if she would follow, he turned and headed through the crowds of people, going around the bar and toward the expanse of mirrored privacy glass, partially obscured by velvet curtains.

  He pulled aside the curtain to find the door handle, keying in his personal code to unlock the door. Then he held it open and stood aside, waiting as Katya went past him into the dim office beyond.

  Pulling the door closed after him, the sound of the club instantly muting, he hit the light switch, hidden lights in the ceiling casting a wash of soft illumination over the room.

  “Okay,” he said, “so I fucked up with that woman. I’m sorry; that was my mistake.”

  Katya put her hands behind her back, falling into her “at ease” stance, giving no sign she was satisfied or otherwise with his apology. “You said your life wasn’t in any danger, but quite frankly, sir, you have no idea. That woman you were speaking with? I overheard her in the ladies’ bathroom talking to someone on the phone. She said she was going to ‘get closer’ to you.”