by Jennie Lucas
“Josie.”
“My sister,” she whispered, then stopped, her throat dry.
“Bree changed your mind?” Dropping his hand, he walked around her. “I find that hard to believe.”
She took a deep breath.
“Your brother kidnapped her,” she choked out. “I want you to save her.”
She waited for him to express shock, elation, rage, something. But his expression didn’t change.
“You…” He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. Vladimir kidnapped her?”
She bit her lip, then her shoulders slumped. “Well, I guess technically,” she said in a small voice, “you could say she wagered herself to him in a card game. And lost.”
His lip curled. “It was a lovers’ game. No woman would wager herself otherwise.” His eyes narrowed. “My brother always had a weakness for her. After ten years apart, they’re no doubt deliriously happy they’ve made up their quarrel.”
“Are you crazy?” she cried. “Bree hates him!”
“What!”
Josie shook her head. “He forced her to go with him.”
His handsome face suddenly looked cheerful. “I see.”
“And it’s all my fault.” A lump rose in her throat, and she covered her eyes. “The night after you proposed, my boss invited me to join a private poker game. I hoped I could win enough to pay off my father’s old debts, and I snuck out while Bree was sleeping.” She swallowed. “She never would have let me go. She forbade me ever to gamble, plus she didn’t trust Mr. Hudson.”
“Why?”
“I think it was mostly the way he hired us from Seattle, sight unseen, with one-way plane tickets to Hawaii. At the time, we were both too desperate to care, but…” She sighed. “She was right. There was something kind of… weird about it. But I didn’t listen.” She lifted her tearful gaze to his. “Bree lost everything on the turn of a single card. Because of me.”
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “And you think I can save her.”
“I know you can. You’re the only one powerful enough to stand up to him. The only one on earth willing to battle with Vladimir Xendzov. Because you hate him the most.” She took a deep breath. “Please,” she whispered. “You can take my land. I don’t care. But if you don’t save Bree, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.”
Kasimir stared at her for a long moment.
“Here.” He reached for the heavy backpack on her shoulder. “Let me take that.”
“You don’t need to—”
“You’re swaying on your feet,” he said softly. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days. No wonder. Flying to Seattle and back…”
Without her bag weighing her down, she felt so light she almost felt dizzy. “I told you I went to Seattle?”
He froze, then relaxed as he looked back at her. “Of course you did,” he said smoothly. “How else would I know?”
Yes, indeed, how would he? After almost no sleep for two days, she was starting to get confused. Rubbing her cheek with her shoulder, she confessed, “I am a little tired. And thirsty.”
“Come with me. I’ll get you a drink.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted out, not moving.
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“It always seems that the more handsome a man is, the more of a jerk he is. And you are very, very…”
Their eyes locked, and her throat cut off. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Never mind.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Whatever your sister might have told you about me, I’m not the devil. But I am being remiss in my manners. Let’s get you that drink.”
Carrying her backpack over his shoulder, he turned down the hallway. Josie watched him go, her eyes tracing the muscular shape of his back beneath his jacket and chiseled rear end.
Then she shook her head, irritated with herself. Why did she have to blurt out every single thought in her head? Why couldn’t she just show discipline and quiet restraint, like Bree? Why did she have to be such a goofball all the time, the kind of girl who’d start conversations with random strangers on any topic from orchids to cookie recipes, then give them her bus money?
This time wasn’t my fault, she thought mutinously, following him down the hall. He was far too handsome. No woman could possibly manage sensible thinking beneath the laser-like focus of those blue eyes!
Kasimir led her to a high-ceilinged room lined with leather-bound books on one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city on the other. Tossing her backpack on a long table of polished inlaid wood, he walked over to the wet bar on the other side of the library. “What will you have?”
“Tap water, please,” she said faintly.
He frowned back at her. “I have sparkling mineral water. Or I could order coffee…”
“Just water. With ice, if you want to be fancy.”
He returned with a glass.
“Thanks,” she said. She glugged down the icy, delicious water.
He watched her. “You’re an unusual girl, Josie Dalton.”
Unusual didn’t sound good. She wiped her mouth. “I am?” she echoed uncertainly, lowering the glass.
“It’s refreshing to be with a woman who makes absolutely no effort to impress me.”
She snorted. “Trying to impress you would be a waste of time. I know a man like you would never be interested in a girl like me—not genuinely interested,” she mumbled.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes breathtaking.
“You’re selling yourself short,” he said softly, and Josie felt it again—that strange flash of heat.
She swallowed. “You’re being nice, but I know there’s no point in pretending to be something I’m not.” She sighed. “Even if I sometimes wish I could.”
“Unusual. And honest.” Turning, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a short glass of amber-colored liquid. He returned, then took a slow, thoughtful sip.
“All right. I’ll get your sister back for you,” he said abruptly.
“You will!” If there was something strange about his tone, Josie was too weak with relief to notice. “When?”
“After we’re wed. Our marriage will last until the land in Alaska is legally transferred to me.” He looked straight into her eyes. “And I’ll bring her to you, and set you both free. Is that what you want?”
Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes,” she cried.
Setting down his drink on the polished wooden table, he held out his hand. “Deal.”
Slowly, she reached out her hand. She felt the hot, calloused hollow of his palm, felt his strong fingers interlace with hers. A tremble raced through her. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to his handsome face, to those electric-blue eyes, and it was like staring straight at the sun.
“I hope it won’t be too painful for you,” she stammered, “being married to me.”
His hand tightened over hers. “As you’ll be my only wife, ever,” he said softly, “I think I’ll enjoy you a great deal.”
“Your only wife ever?” Her brow furrowed. “That seems a little pessimistic of you. I mean—” she licked her lips awkwardly “—I’m sure you’ll meet someone someday…”
Kasimir gave a low, humorless laugh.
“Josie, my sweet innocent one—” he looked at her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes “—you are the answer to my every prayer.”
Prince Kasimir Xendzov hadn’t started the feud ten years ago with his brother.
As a child, he’d idolized Vladimir. He’d been proud of his older brother, of his loving parents, of his family, of his home. Their great-grandfather had been one of the last great princes of Russia, before he’d died fighting for the White Army in Siberia, after sending his beloved wife and baby son to safety in Alaskan exile. Since then, for four generations, the Xendzovs had lived in self-sufficient poverty on an Alaskan homestead far from civilization. To Kasimir, it had been an enchanted winter kingdom.
But
his older brother had hated the isolation and uncertainty—growing their own vegetables, canning them for winter, hunting rabbits for meat. He’d hated the lack of electricity and indoor plumbing. As Kasimir had played, battling with sticks as swords and jousting against the pine trees, Vladimir had buried his nose in business books and impatiently waited for their twice-a-year visits to Fairbanks. “Someday, I’ll have a better life,” he’d vowed, cursing as he scraped ice off the inside window of their shared room. “I’ll buy clothes instead of making them. I’ll drive a Ferrari. I’ll fly around the world and eat at fine restaurants.”
Kasimir, two years younger, had listened breathlessly. “Really, Volodya?” But though he’d idolized his older brother, he hadn’t understood Vladimir’s restlessness. Kasimir loved their home. He liked going hunting with their father and listening to him read books in Russian by the wood-burning stove at night. He liked chopping wood for their mother, feeling the roughness of an ax handle in his hand, and having the satisfaction of seeing the pile of wood climb steadily against the side of the log cabin. To him, the wild Alaskan forest wasn’t isolating. It was freeing.
Home. Family. Loyalty. Those were the things Kasimir cared about.
Right after their father died unexpectedly, Vladimir got news he’d been accepted to the best mining college in St. Petersburg, Russia. Their widowed mother had wept with joy, for it had been their father’s dream. But with no money for tuition, Vladimir had put off school and gone to work at a northern mine to save money.
Two years later, Kasimir had applied to the same college for one reason: he felt someone had to watch his brother’s back. He didn’t expect that he’d have the money to leave Alaska for many years, so he’d been surprised tuition money for them both was suddenly found.
It was only later he’d discovered Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell their family’s last precious asset, a jeweled necklace hundreds of years old that had once belonged to their great-grandmother, to a collector.
He’d felt betrayed, but he’d tried to forgive. He’d told himself that Vladimir had done it for their good.
Right after college, Kasimir had wanted to return to Alaska to take care of their mother, who’d become ill. Vladimir convinced him that they should start their own business instead, a mining business. “It’s the only way we’ll be sure to always have money to take care of her.” Instead, when the banks wouldn’t loan them enough money, Vladimir had convinced their mother to sell the six hundred and thirty-eight acres that had been in the Xendzov family for four generations—ever since Princess Xenia Petrovna Xendzova had arrived on Alaskan shores as a heartbroken exile, with a baby in her arms.
Kasimir had been furious. For the first time, he’d yelled at his brother. How could Vladimir have done such a thing behind his back, when he knew Kasimir had made a fervent deathbed promise to their father never to sell their land for any reason?
“Don’t be selfish,” Vladimir said coldly. “You think Mom could do all the work of the homestead without us?” And the money had in part paid for their mother to spend her last days at a hospice in Fairbanks. Kasimir’s heart still twisted when he thought of it. His eyes narrowed.
The real reason they’d lost their home had been Vladimir’s need to secure the most promising mining rights. What mattered: a younger brother’s honor, a mother’s home, or his need to establish their business with good cash flow and the best equipment?
“Don’t worry,” his brother had told him carelessly. “Once we’re rich, you can easily buy it back again.”
Kasimir set his jaw. He should have cut off all ties with his brother then and there. Instead, after their mother died, he’d felt more bound than ever to his brother—his only family. They strove for a year to build their business partnership, working eighteen-hour days in harsh winter conditions. Kasimir had been certain they’d soon earn their first big payout, and buy their home back again.
He hadn’t known that Black Jack Dalton, the land’s buyer, had put the land in an irrevocable trust for his child. Or that, as recompense for Kasimir’s loyalty, hard work and honesty, at the end of that year Vladimir would cut him out of the partnership and cheat him out of his share of half a billion dollars.
Now, even though Kasimir had long since built up his own billion-dollar mining company, his body still felt tight with rage whenever he remembered how the brother he’d adored had stabbed him in the back. Even once Kasimir regained the land, he knew it would never feel like home. Because he’d never be that same loyal, loving, idealistic, stupid boy again.
No. Kasimir hadn’t started the feud with his brother.
But he would end it.
“I’m the answer to your prayer?” a sweet, feminine voice said, sounding puzzled. “How?”
Kasimir’s eyes focused on Josie Dalton, standing in front of him in the library of his Honolulu penthouse.
Her brown eyes were large and luminous, fringed with long black lashes—but he saw the weary gray shadows beneath. Her skin was smooth and creamy—but pale, and smudged on one cheek with dust. Her mouth was full and pink—but the lower lip was chapped, as if she’d spent the last two days chewing on it in worry. Her light brown hair, which he could imagine thick and lustrous tumbling down her shoulders, was half pulled up in a disheveled ponytail.
Josie Dalton was not beautiful—no. But she was attractive in her own way, all youth and dewy innocence and overblown curves. He cut off the thought. He did not intend to let himself explore further.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted our land back for a long time.” His voice was low and gravelly, even to his own ears. “I’ll make the arrangements for our wedding at once.”
“What kind of arrangements?” She bit her lip anxiously, her soft brown eyes wide. “You don’t mean a—a honeymoon?”
He looked at her sharply. She blushed. Her pink cheeks looked very charming. Who blushed anymore? “No. I don’t mean a honeymoon.”
“Good.” Her cheeks burned red as she licked her lips. “I’m glad. I mean, I know this is a marriage in name only,” she said hastily, holding up her hand. “And that’s the only reason I could agree to…”
Her voice trailed off. Looking down, he caught her staring at his lips.
She was so unguarded, so innocent, he thought in wonder. Soft, pretty. Virginal. It would be very easy to seduce her.
Fortunately, she wasn’t his type. His typical mistress was sleek and sophisticated. She lavished hours at the salon and the gym as though it was her full-time job. Véronique, in Paris. Farah, in Cairo. Oksana, in Moscow. Exotic women who knew how to seduce a man, who kept their lips red and their eyes lined with kohl, who greeted him at the door in silk lingerie and always had his favorite vodka chilled in the freezer. They welcomed him quickly into bed and spoke little, and even then, they never quite said what they meant. They were easy to slide into bed with.
And more importantly: they were very easy to leave.
Josie Dalton, on the other hand, expressed every thought—and if she forgot to say anything with words, her face said it anyway. She wore no makeup and clearly saw her hair as a chore, rather than an asset. In that baggy T-shirt and jeans, she obviously had no interest in fashion, or even in showing her figure to its best effect.
But Kasimir was glad she wasn’t trying to lure him. Because he had no intention of seducing her. It would only complicate things that didn’t need to be complicated. And it would hurt a tenderhearted young woman whom he didn’t want to hurt—at least not more than he had to.
No. He was going to treat Josie Dalton like gold.
“So what other… arrangements… are you talking about?” she said haltingly. She lifted her chin, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “Maybe a wedding cake?”
This time, he really did laugh. “You want a cake?”
“I do love a good wedding cake, with buttercream-frosting roses…” she said wistfully.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he said gravely.
Her exp
ression drooped, and she shook her head with a sigh. “But I’d better not.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.”
“Do I look like I watch my weight?” she snapped, then flushed guiltily. “Sorry. I’m a little grumpy. My flight ran out of meals before they reached my aisle, and I haven’t eaten for twelve hours. I would have bought something at the airport but I only have three dollars and thought maybe I should save it.”
Her voice trailed off. Kasimir had already turned away, crossing to the desk. He pressed the intercom button.
“Sir?”
“Send up a breakfast plate.”
“Two, Your Highness?”
“Just one. But make it full and make it quick.” He glanced back at Josie. “Anything special you’d like to eat, Miss Dalton?”
She gaped back at him, her mouth open.
He turned back to the intercom and said smoothly, “Just send everything you’ve got.”
“Of course, sir.”
Taking her unresisting hand, Kasimir led her to the soft blue sofa and sat beside her. She stared at him, apparently mesmerized, as if he’d done something truly shocking by simply ordering her some breakfast when she said she was hungry.
“You were saying,” he prompted.
“I was?”
“Wedding cake. Why you don’t want it.”
“Right.” Ripping her hand away nervously, she squared her shoulders and said in a firm voice, “This is just a business arrangement, so there’s no point to wedding cake. Or a wedding dress. I think it’s best for both of us—” she looked at him sideways, not quite meeting his eyes “—to keep our marriage on a strictly professional basis.”
“As you wish.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You are the bride. You are the boss.”
She swallowed, turning her head to look at him nervously. “I am?”
He smiled. “I know that much about how a wedding works.”
“Oh.” Josie’s face was the color of roses and cream as she chewed on her full, pink bottom lip. “You’re being very, um—” her voice faltered and seemed to stumble “—nice to me.”
Kasimir’s smile twisted. “Will you stop saying that.”
