Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series

by K. Marie

  I smiled back, my dumb heart beating double time. As he descended the last few stairs, those powerful green eyes remained focused on mine, the emerald even brighter in the daylight.

  “Camry,” he said in greeting, making me feel as if we were the only two people standing here.

  “Welcome aboard,” he said, pulling his eyes from mine to focus on the others. “I apologize for the ride over, I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

  Inconvenience? I would hardly call getting ferried over to this ridiculous luxury on water a hardship. “It was no inconvenience at all, thank you for inviting us,” I told him.

  “This is my sister, Lauren, her best-friend, Lake; and my cousins, Anna and Marie,” I said in introduction, indicating each of them with a wave of my hand.

  I couldn't help noticing the women staring. I sympathized with them, because I’d already had my moment of stupification last night.

  “Have you had time to acclimate yourselves?” he asked, stepping closer to me, “I would be happy to take you on a tour if you’d like.”

  “We’ve seen most of the lower level, we were just heading upstairs now,” I told him, resisting the urge to step back. His nearness was unnerving.

  “We can show ourselves around, please, don’t trouble yourself,” I rushed to add.

  “It's no trouble at all,” Garland assured with a charming smile.

  “Thank you, but we’ll make our own tour around the boat, you don’t have to babysit us,” Marie said for everyone. The girls murmured their agreements.

  “As you wish,” Garland said, his accent making the statement sound rather noble.

  I had to resist smiling.

  “We’re awaiting a few more guests, but we should be set to leave in about fifteen minutes,” he informed us.

  “May I borrow you a moment, Camry?” Garland asked, just as everyone moved to take the stairs. “I’ll give you a personal tour afterward if that’s alright,” he told me.

  “Go ahead without me guys, I’ll catch up in a few minutes,” I called out to them.

  Garland surprised me when he grasped my hand, pulling me alongside him as we took the stairs back down to the main level. “I have a couple of things to do before we leave, but I’d also like to have you to myself a few minutes,” he said.

  “Oh…” I murmured inanely, unable to think straight with him touching me.

  “So, you’re Mr. Vidov, I presume?” I inquired.

  “Yes, I’m Mr. Vidov, though no one calls me that except for my employees,” he responded, giving me an amused sidelong glance. “Most people simply call me, Vidov.”

  “Hmm…so what should I call you?” I asked playfully.

  “You may call me whatever you’d like,” Garland told me, holding my gaze several uncomfortable seconds too long.

  Either I was imagining things, or there was more behind that look than his simple words implied.

  Flustered, I looked away. “I like Garland just fine, but I’ll keep my options open,” I told him.

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.

  We walked through the main cabin, towards a hallway near the back entrance. Walking past several closed doors, we came to a stop in front of an opened doorway and entered an office. A laptop computer sat open on the desk, as well as a lamp and several gray folders, and a stack of papers were neatly aligned at its corner.

  “Please, have a seat,” Garland told me, rounding the desk to take his own.

  I followed his lead, parking my rear on the black leather chair that rested against the wall opposite his desk. Alongside the chair was a large window, which afforded a beautiful view of the water.

  “Vidov, Russian?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes, the surname of my Russian father,” he confirmed, eyes focused on the computer screen, “My lineage is Russian and Argentinian.”

  It was a damn good lineage.

  Having concluded his computer business, Garland leaned back lazily in his chair and eyed me across his desk.

  “You look beautiful this evening,” he said, giving me his full attention.

  “Thank you,” I replied, trying my damnedest not to fidget under his scrutiny.

  “How long will you be in Miami?” he asked.

  “We’ll be here until Wednesday, we’re here celebrating my sister’s birthday,” I answered.

  “Your sister is Lauren, right?” he inquired.

  “Yes, you remembered,” I said with a pleased smile.

  “I pay attention,” he returned.

  “Are you a permanent resident of Miami?” I asked him.

  “Yes, Miami is home,” he confirmed.

  “You said you were working at the club last night, what do you do there? I asked next.

  “I own the club, I don’t work there,” he corrected.

  I eyed him suspiciously, recalling his vague answer the night before. Had he intentionally misled me?

  “Do you often hangout there?” I questioned, wondering if trolling for women was part of his routine.

  “Not at all, the club is merely an investment for me. I happened to be there last night on a business matter,” he answered.

  “So, you’re saying I would have run the risk of being mauled to death by that idiot on the dance floor; had you conducted your business at a more decent hour?” I asked with a quirked brow.

  The man laughed—an actual laugh. Based on first impressions, I wouldn’t have guessed him the laughing type. “Beauty and humor, you’re a dangerous woman, Camry,” Garland said.

  Not nearly as dangerous as you. I thought to myself, captivated.

  “I’m assuming you were born in Russia, how long have you been in the U.S.?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. Though still very much discernible, his accent was slight, indicating he might have been in the country a while.

  “No, I was actually born in the U.S., my father worked here at the time. We returned to Russia when I was five-years-old,” he answered.

  “What made you come back to the U.S.?” I probed.

  “I found I enjoyed the Western lifestyle and its wealth of available opportunities,” he provided, a devilish look in his eyes.

  “You return to Russia often?” I quizzed.

  Garland gave me an amused look, no doubt because of my enthusiasm for questions. I couldn’t help it, I had a curious nature. I was probably missing my calling as an investigative journalist.

  “I return a couple of times a year to visit my parents,” he answered good-naturedly.

  Just then, we’re interrupted by Thomás, who’d come to announce the last of the guests had arrived. Garland thanked him, and the young man promptly disappeared.

  “Is the party for a special occasion?” I remembered to ask.

  “Today’s my birthday, so I guess it could be considered special,” he answered.

  “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked in dismay, “I feel terrible for not having brought you anything.”

  He might have mentioned that small fact when he invited me.

  “Nonsense, your presence is all I required,” Garland assured me, brushing aside my complaint.

  “Then I guess you’re easy to please,” I said with a rueful smile.

  “On the contrary, Camry, you might find I can be quite demanding,” he countered.

  My eyes sharpened on him. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes held a hint of mischief. Why did I get the feeling he was referring to more than I was?

  An awkward silence followed, and I sensed the man was enjoying my obvious discomfit.

  “So, uh, how many guests are aboard tonight?” I asked, hurrying to fill the silence.

  “It's a small gathering, there are only eighteen guests,” he answered.

  “It’s a huge boat for only eighteen guests, I guess we won’t be bumping into each other,” I said jokingly.

  “Yes, she is a large boat, and can accommodate a lot more people. But make no mistake, I intend to bump into you plenty,” h
e remarked.

  I sat staring at him in surprise. Seriously? I was no fool, I knew a double entendre when I heard one.

  I looked back at him quizzically, wondering if the king of innuendo were merely testing me for a reaction. “Was that a deliberate misunderstanding of my words?” I asked pointedly.

  “There was no misunderstanding on my part,” he returned challengingly.

  Guess I got my answer.

  The man was bold, and blatantly stating his intentions. I didn’t deny there being a physical attraction between us; the air practically buzzed with it since coming into his office. But though I didn’t know what I’d expected in coming here tonight, I knew I hadn’t come prepared to bump.

  Did he honestly expect for me to sleep with him after knowing him only two minutes?

  Then again, it’s probably what he’s used to. I don’t imagine a woman has ever said no to him. But I would.

  I chose to ignore the loaded gun he’d just pointed at me. “How young are you today?” I asked instead.

  Garland’s amused eyes said he knew exactly what I was doing. Avoidance.

  “I’m thirty-six, nearly an old man,” he answered.

  “Oh, come on, you don’t look a day over thirty-five,” I assured him with a teasing smile. I’d guessed him to be in his early thirties.

  “Ah…now you flatter me,” he said, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet.

  Rounding the desk, Garland stepped in front of me and extended a hand to help me up. A surprised gasp escaped my mouth when he pulled me right up against his warm body, wrapping a large hand around my waist.

  My nerves went haywire.

  Even in my heels, the top of my head came only to his chin as I gazed up at him, knowing he was about to kiss me.

  And instead of being outraged and demanding he unhand me, unbelievably, I silently challenged him to do it.

  Proving he wasn’t a man to back down from a challenge, Garland lowered his mouth to mine in a soft kiss, before gently nipping my lower lip.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since we came in here,” he murmured.

  Back away! My brain screamed. This was wrong on so many levels.

  But instead of doing the sensible thing, I remained in his arms, fighting an insane urge to sniff him. The man smelled good, like soap and manliness.

  I caught myself, not knowing what in the hell had gotten into me. He was a stranger for God’s sake!

  I placed my hands on his chest to push him away, needing to end this nonsense, but my hands didn’t do what my brain commanded. Instead, I stared up at Garland, thinking all I wanted him to do was put his mouth back on mine.

  And he doesn’t disappoint.

  Garland kissed me for real this time, and I reacted, clasping my hands at the back of his neck and impulsively tagged myself in. He started it, but I’d just become a willing participant.

  I moaned when he sucked my tongue into his mouth as though it were candy, igniting an instant throbbing between my thighs. Jesus.

  Somewhere in the back of my brain a sensible voice screamed for me to stop, to have some goddamn self-control, to remember that I was engaged.

  But it went ignored.

  Instead, I ran my fingers through the back of his hair, clutching onto a handful of it as my knees grew weak. Garland groaned, sliding his hands from my waist to my ass, pulling me even closer.

  Stop this! I told myself, wondering who this out of control woman was. Since when did I play tongue-hockey with complete strangers?

  My good sense finally prevailing, I pulled back, grasping at the small thread of self-control I still obviously possessed. Backing off, Garland squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, an obvious effort to regain control.

  But when his eyes next connected with mine, they glittered dangerously. “We’d better go, before I have you spread across my desk,” he said, an edge to his voice.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” I immediately agreed. I couldn’t believe that just happened! It was insanity.

  “That went further than I intended, but I’m making no secret of wanting you in my bed, Camry. I’m determined to get you there before the night is over,” Garland said bluntly.

  I raised an affronted brow. The man was bold, with a confidence bordering on cockiness.

  And considering you’d just made out with him like a slut, why shouldn’t he be? I asked myself in disgust.

  “Anyone ever accuse you of being overconfident?” I asked flippantly, marveling at his nerve.

  “Duty calls for now, so you’ve got time to think about it,” he said simply, not deigning to entertain my sarcasm.

  There was nothing but crickets as Garland turned towards the door, presumably satisfied with my silence. What else was there to say? He’d laid down a challenge I had no intention of engaging.

  Gesturing for me to precede him out of the office, Garland placed a possessive hand on my lower back as we walked back towards the main cabin.

  Seven

  “Just some guy you met my ass, you little liar!” Marie accused in a loud whisper next to my ear. I’d just rejoined them in the main cabin.

  Shooting her a look of reprimand, I darted a nervous glance around, afraid someone might have overheard. We were seated near the bar where there were other people standing close by, any of them could overhear our conversation. Marie was terribly bad at whispering.

  “Oh, please! Don’t play all innocent with me. I saw the way that man looked at you, like you were a tasty item on a menu he couldn’t wait to order. He totally wants into your pants,” she hissed, a bit quieter this time.

  She was right about that, Garland definitely wanted into my pants.

  I should probably be worried over it, but instead, I tried holding back my smile and failed. “He is just some guy I met, you act as if I did something wrong,” I said defensively.

  “Well, if you didn’t do something wrong, you should have,” she countered with a salacious look. “I’m guessing, Mr. Hotness, is about a little more than friendly boat parties,” she added knowingly.

  I snorted a laugh, amused over Garland’s new nickname. Mr. Hotness. I think I like it.

  “He gave me a tour of his boat and was a perfect gentleman,” I lied happily.

  The man had his hand on my ass and his tongue in my mouth.

  Marie gave me a look that screamed bullshit. “The perfect gentlemen are the worst ones! They shoplift the kitty-cat right in front of you, making you believe you’d handed it over freely,” she argued, causing me to giggle.

  “Need I remind you about John?” she asked, instantly deflating my happy-bubble like a balloon.

  I certainly didn’t let thoughts of my fiancé deter me when I’d been in Garland’s arms.

  “Not that I blame you for having the hots for Mr. Hotness,” Marie said, reading my guilt-face correctly, “I just don’t want you getting caught-up in a situation you’ll later regret.”

  She had a valid point of course, however, her concern seemed a bit premature.

  Not wanting to get into the whole Garland-John discussion right now, I quickly changed the subject. We talked about the boat instead. To say that it was nice would be an understatement, the boat was like a floating Taj Mahal.

  Material stuff doesn’t impress me much, but this level of wealth—the kind where owning a yacht as a toy, was a foreign concept to me. Coming from an average middle-class family who’d lived in the suburbs my entire life, I thought my life great growing up. I lost my mother at an early age, but my father provided for Lauren and me damn well on a cop’s salary. We had a wonderful home, went to good public schools, and even took the occasional family vacation. However, the only luxury we owned was a four-wheeler that we took with us on camping trips.

  “So, it's his boat?” asked Lauren, having overheard me.

  “Yes, it's his boat,” I confirmed.

  “Didn’t you say he worked at the nightclub?” she asked with skepticism.

  As an attorney, Lauren
’s paid to be inquisitive, however—and as it applied to me, I viewed it as prying and annoying as hell. “He owns the club, so I guess you could say he works there,” I answered with a shrug.

  “The man owns one of the hottest nightclubs in Miami, that’s not the same as working there,” Marie said with an incredulous snort.

  I gave her a withering look.

  Both Marie and Lauren were of the belief that I’m naïve when it comes to men. But it didn’t matter one way or the other, Garland was just a man who’d invited us to celebrate his birthday with him.

  He’s also a man who wants you in his bed. My conscience reminded me.

  “It doesn’t matter either way, let’s just enjoy the man’s hospitality and have fun tonight. I believe dinner is in an hour, so I’m going to grab a drink and head outside,” I said, putting an end to the discussion.

  The view from the second-floor window was beautiful as the sun began to set, right at the start of dinner.

  Nine guests sat on either side of the rectangular table, with Garland seated at its head. I sat to the right of him. But because he and I met only the previous night, I felt self-conscious about being placed in such a prominent position. Perhaps I’m only being paranoid about the curious looks I’d been receiving.

  The only person to have openly asked about our association was Garland’s best friend, Greg, an affable guy with a good sense of humor. I liked him immediately, he made me feel at-ease and made things feel less awkward. The two men had been college roommates in London, but Greg now lived back in his hometown of Los Angeles.

  And whereas Greg and I easily hit it off, I couldn’t say the same for his girlfriend.

  The woman was tall, blond and attractive, but not at all friendly. Though I’d literally spoken only four words to her during our brief meeting, for some reason, she seemed to take an instant dislike to me. I simply wrote her off as one of those women who probably viewed all other women as competition, the insecure ones.

  Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep a straight face as I darted a chiding look at Garland. He ignored me of course, as he continued feathering circles around my knee with the tips of his fingers.