Bought for Her Innocence

by Tara Pammi

  “I know what to do,” he said softly, the idea settling into his every pore, every cell, sinking into him deep. Tilting the very axis of his life. But he didn’t feel in the slightest bit worried. It was perfect for the situation he had created, the right thing finally.

  His austere features bathed in shadows, Stavros, if possible, became even tenser. “And what would that be?”

  Dmitri sighed, wishing he could walk away without answering his question, without giving a damn. But try as he might, he had never been able to wrench that detachment for Stavros.

  Giannis had done a fine job of making them more than brothers. He had made them each other’s conscience. “I’ll not hurt her, Stavros.”

  “There’s more than one way of hurting, Dmitri. I stole five years of her life, five years that I can never return, from Leah. Don’t be so blindly arrogant as I was to decide her fate for Jasmine.”

  “I’m not forcing her into anything, Stavros.”

  He would not force Jas. He would only give her what would make her happy, do what he should have done all those years ago. He owed Andrew that much, despite Andrew’s mistakes; he owed her that much. And it wasn’t as if he was making a huge sacrifice, either, when all he did was flit from woman to woman, trying to fill the emptiness he felt.

  At least, with Jas, there would be the satisfaction of doing the right thing. At least, with Jas, there would be no emptiness. Not when she looked at him like that.

  “Dmitri, I’m—”

  Dmitri had had enough. He turned away from Stavros and went back to the house. For the first time in forever, he had found something that made him feel as though he was alive again. Something that helped him look in the mirror and see a worthy man.

  Something that he was determined to hold on to.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TWO DAYS LATER, the most beautiful day dawned, as if the elements had decided to behave in the face of such true, abiding love as Jasmine saw in Leah and Stavros’s eyes.

  A lone tear slid down her cheek as they posed for a picture under the arch of lilies. With her eyes twinkling and her mouth painted a luscious red, Leah was a perfect contrast to Stavros’s severely stunning looks.

  She was so glad to have witnessed the wedding, the best part in her mind when Dmitri, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous in a black tuxedo, had walked Leah to Stavros and handed her over.

  Something had passed between the two men, a sliver of tension that paused the whole tableau, but then Dmitri had kissed Leah’s cheek and gone to stand by Stavros.

  If she had thought her life strange before, it was nothing compared to the roller coaster of the past two days.

  It had been close to dawn when, after hours of tossing and turning, she had fallen into a fitful sleep that night after he had walked out with such anger. While she had refused to cry or pity herself, she had relentlessly wondered where Dmitri had gone. Wondered if he would disappear again.

  And then suddenly, he had been there in her bed just as the sun touched everything in the room with a pink glow.

  Naked and gloriously, arrogantly masculine, he had been a cocoon of warmth and hardness behind her.

  Had she resisted him? Had she even put up a token fight when he had come back to her bed as if he belonged there?

  No, all she had felt had been unprecedented joy that he had come back to her, utter relief that he didn’t loathe her for what she had told him. She had been weak, yes, but Jasmine didn’t know how to be anything else when it came to Dmitri, didn’t know how to arrest her heart from jumping into her throat when he looked at her, or how to stop her skin from tingling with one casual touch of his.

  At least, the past was all done between them; at least, he still wanted her, she had thought pathetically. When he had given her a breath to think, that was.

  Pulling her toward him, he had thrown a muscular, naked leg over her own, his arm a steel band around her waist, his erection already hard and big, nestling against her bottom like it belonged there.

  She had moaned and pushed back into him, even as her mind had said she should be doing the opposite. Whispering the wickedest things into her skin, he had sneaked his large hands under her shirt, his shirt that she had stolen from his wardrobe at the hotel in London, and found her breasts. Told her he had never been so thoroughly stripped of all good sense, that he had never felt such urgent, devouring need ever before.

  There had been such a possessive heat to his words that even now, standing amidst a hundred guests, Jasmine felt the silky slide of those words, as addictive as his knowing touch.

  He had stroked her to such a fever pitch that she had forgotten all about how sore she had felt earlier. “Please, Dmitri,” she had whispered, apparently the only thing she was capable of saying to him.

  Slowly, lazily, he had pushed into her from behind, his teeth digging into her shoulder, his fingers flicking at her sex with that same lazy rhythm. Rocked them both into such a slow climax that had nevertheless left her boneless.

  As if all his fury had been pushed out of him, as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy the fire between them. As if he never wanted to leave her side ever again.

  Tears had filled her eyes and she had tried to hide them. But he had only turned her to him. “No more tears, glykia mou, and no more shame. Whatever you had to do, it’s all over, Jas.” He had kissed her temple, then her fluttering eyelids, her cheeks, and then had held her with such a tight grip. “Don’t judge yourself, don’t ever blame yourself for surviving.” He had said it so tenderly that she had buried her face in his chest and sobbed, years of grief and loneliness pushing out of her in waves.

  And he had soothed her, and hugged her, and fallen asleep next to her.

  When she had woken up again, it had been past noon. A single, long-stemmed red rose had been by the pillow along with a note and a velvet case.

  Her heart had slammed against her rib cage when she had run a reverent finger against the soft velvet. Sitting up, she had reached for the note first.

  “Will be back the afternoon of the wedding day. Have to get something ready. Wear this for me.”

  Her breath had stuttered out of her at the sight of the delicately wired diamond necklace, along with matching earrings and bracelet. It had looked utterly expensive and somehow he had arranged for it to be delivered in a matter of hours. She had seen a necklace like that once in London at Tiffany & Co. and had blanched from even asking the price.

  Something about accepting it right after what they had done hadn’t sat well with her. She was already indebted to him, they had the strangest relationship going on and the last thing Jas wanted was to lose the little pride she had left.

  And that he had left her that little note meant more to her than anything that he could have gifted her.

  She fingered the diamond pendant that she had worn instead, hoping he would understand.

  Every inch of her thrummed as she waited for the ceremony to be over so that she could tell him all her news. More than anything, she couldn’t wait to just hold him again.

  The crowd of guests erupted into laughter then, and she turned to see Stavros pick up Leah in his arms and head for the house. She found herself smiling again.

  Corded arms wrapped around her from behind. She let out a breathless little gasp as his powerful thighs straddled her, his arousal evoking that powerfully intoxicating need freely in her veins.

  She felt the press of his soft lips against her neck and trembled. Long fingers instantly laced with hers, anchoring her. He felt so good and warm around her that her heart took a little tumble in her chest.

  “You smell divine, moro mou. I can’t wait to taste you all over again.”

  She half turned, trying to speak with a dry mouth. “Dmitri, I have something—”

  “You wanted to dance the other nig
ht, didn’t you?”

  Without waiting for her answer, not that she would have refused, he tugged her to the dance floor that had been erected to the side. The grounds looked like they were straight out of a fairy tale as little Moroccan lanterns illuminated the path and cast beautiful shadows everywhere. A sweet smell wafted over from the orange groves.

  Dusk wasn’t far away and the party was in full swing. A little signal from Dmitri and the band instantly shifted to a slow tune instead of the peppy Greek number. In such a short time, the world suddenly seemed like a wonderful place, and she didn’t doubt that it was because of the man who seemed to entrench himself more and more in her heart.

  His hands went around her and Jasmine found herself looking straight into his eyes.

  Dancing with Dmitri was like eating the most deliciously decadent chocolate, except the sensations were everywhere instead of just in her mouth. His movements effortlessly elegant; he maneuvered them around the floor with a fluid grace that was far from the boy who had used his fists for survival.

  Feeling light-headed even though she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, she put her cheek on his shoulder and looked around.

  Leah’s wedding list was a who’s-who of the fashion world, ranging from models to designers to fashion magazine editors. Wherever she looked on the dance floor and elsewhere, there were stunning beauties, each one more gorgeous and sophisticated than the next. But it was the list of their accomplishments that stung.

  What is he doing with me? an insidious voice whispered in her mind, and she tried to tune it out.

  She could feel more than one woman’s gaze slide to Dmitri surreptitiously, had seen more than one woman come on to him in the guise of polite chitchat.

  Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that kind of lust, the one that only wanted the package without knowing what was beneath.

  All they saw was a spectacularly gorgeous man with wealth, power and raw sexuality. I know him like none of you ever will, she thought with a fierceness she had never known before.

  Her hands tightened over his shoulders before she even realized. Mine, she wanted to say in an utterly possessive way.

  One muscled thigh grazing hers, Dmitri tipped her chin up. “You’re tense. Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she replied, determined to not let her stupid insecurities ruin what was the most wonderful evening of her life. She would make something of herself, she promised herself. She would make him proud of her even if it took her the rest of her life.

  Bolstered by it, she leaned her head on his shoulder and let his body guide her into the soft rhythm.

  For a few moments, they said nothing, sinking into the sensuous silence that was filled with languorous promises. Every move reminded her of how he had moved inside her, every glance he sent her way a promise of the night to come.

  “You dance like a dream,” she whispered.

  Their relationship had begun in a strange place, a bed of all places, and even after two days, she couldn’t seem to look at him and not remember the erotic intimacy of what they had done.

  If she looked at his mouth, her lower belly clenched as if it remembered the havoc he had wreaked on it. If she looked at his hands, her hips remembered how he had held her down for him.

  “Giannis, if you can believe it, made us take classes. He was determined to transform Stavros and me from the little thugs we were.” She shivered as he pulled her closer. “But I’m not at all surprised that you move like every man’s fantasy.”

  Her gaze flew to his, but it was only full of a wicked light. There was no judgment in his tone, implied or otherwise. It was her own shame that ricocheted through her, that led her to drop her gaze.

  He tipped her chin up. “You dance beautifully, Jas,” he said so tenderly that she couldn’t help but smile in return, warmed to the farthest corners of her heart by the depth of his perception.

  Stepping back, he looked at her from her hair in an elegant knot to the pendant and the elegant knee-length beige silk dress that Leah had chosen for her, all the way to her feet tucked in nude-colored pumps.

  Tingling at his leisurely perusal, she reached for his hand when he frowned.

  “You’re not wearing the diamond necklace. Why?”

  He had spoken softly, yet the displeasure in his tone was clear. “I...”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  He didn’t wait for her answer. Clasping her fingers, he tugged her off the dance floor and through the throng of guests, to a path that went away from the crowd.

  After another couple of minutes, they arrived at a side door to the house, and then they were in a study that was utterly masculine from the dark brown leather sofas to a huge mahogany table to the scent of cigars that permeated it.

  When voices filtered through an open window, Dmitri closed it with a firm click.

  “Now.” Turning to her, he lifted her over the table, pushed her legs apart as far as the dress allowed, which was indecent enough for her, and stood between them until she was straddling him. “All I have been able to think about is this...”

  He claimed her mouth with a hunger that buckled her knees. Instantly, Jasmine was lost in a sea of spiraling sensations.

  With a hand on his chest, she pushed at him, and his mouth released hers and slid lower to her neck.

  “Please, Dmitri, wait. I want to talk.”

  “I’m not used to being denied what I want, pethi mou,” he breathed against the pulse in her neck, while his thigh lodged square against her aching sex. “And I want you, need you more than I need air.”

  With that, he moved his leg and tremors spread through her lower belly. Her hands on his shoulders, Jasmine moved, needing that pressure to push her to the edge.

  An arrogant, utterly masculine smile on his face, he obliged. And the satisfaction in that male gaze told Jasmine how easily and effortlessly she was playing into his arms. If she didn’t hold her own even a little now, she never would be able to in the future, she realized. However murky the future was right now.

  She dug her teeth into his lower lip and pulled, until he looked up with a guttural groan. “I want to talk, so hands off, Dmitri.”

  He ran a long finger over his lower lip, his eyes threatening retribution. Jasmine held her breath, knowing that she wouldn’t last a minute if he didn’t back off.

  “Please.” She pouted, lowering her voice. “If you let me talk first, then I’ll do whatever you want tonight.”

  He turned his neck this way and that, and his broad chest rose and fell. It was like watching a predator take a step back from his prey. “So talk. And tell me why you’re not wearing the diamond set I ordered for you?”

  In the face of his ruthlessly direct question, she floundered. God, had she ever thought this man frivolous and uncaring? The intensity of his looks, his touch, even his questions spun her head. She lifted the diamond with not-so-steady fingers. “You already gave me a diamond.”

  “That’s all I could afford then. Now I can—”

  “It was far too expensive.” She injected some steel into her words, and when he scowled, she added hurriedly, “Really, where am I going to wear it to, Dmitri? I have no need for such—”

  “You’ll have lots of occasions.” Masculine satisfaction dripped from every word. “Tomorrow morning, there will be a stylist here. Order yourself a new wardrobe, everything you want.”

  “You’re just angry that I steal your shirts, aren’t you?” she quipped, trying to hide her anxiety.

  He kissed her then, just a quick touch of their mouths. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier than you wearing my shirt, matia mou. But I—”

  “I have some really exciting news,” she said, interrupting what she sensed was another argument she wouldn’t win right now. A thread of unease began to permea
te her mood, like the charge that built in the air long before the storm burst.

  “What is it?”

  “You remember Gaspard.” She covered his mouth when his frown turned into a scowl. “Anyway, he referred me to a modeling agency. The head of the agency, this superstylish, sophisticated woman, she was here this afternoon. She said Gaspard had excellent taste when it came to faces, asked Leah about me, and Leah introduced us. Dmitri, she wants me to come in for a screen test in Athens as soon as I can manage it.

  “It’s true I’m older than the models they sign on but she said I had a different kind of face, whatever that means. Isn’t that just great?” Her tone trailed off at the end there as Dmitri’s expression remained the same. “Dmitri?”

  “It sounds great, pethi mou,” he said finally, his brow clearing, “but a career in modeling, this is what you want?” His accent suddenly became more pronounced than she had ever heard it.

  Her shoulders slumping, Jasmine struggled to keep her voice upbeat. “I’ve no idea what I want, but it’s not as if I have a degree or experience in a worthwhile field, is it? And I’m broke. I thought, why not give this a chance? Eventually, I have to start making a living again and then there’s that gazillion pounds that I owe you.” The last bit she had added with a smile, because her skin cooled as if there was a chill in the room.

  The look in Dmitri’s eyes was near lethal. “That debt means nothing between us after what happened two nights ago. As for making a living, I’ll take care of you, Jasmine.”

  She tilted her chin. “And I told you that I won’t be your mistress. You can’t just come to me at midnight and send me gifts in the morning. That’s not what I want, now or ever.”

  “No, I don’t like that option, either.”

  As if he were a magician, he pulled out a small box from somewhere. Her heart slammed so hard that Jasmine gasped. A diamond ring, a princess cut with tiny ones set around it, glittered and winked at her. His gaze remained shadowed as he looked at her. “Marry me, thee mou, and we’ll never talk of debts and mistresses ever again.”