A Game With One Winner

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He was silent for so long she began to wonder if he’d heard her. But then he spoke. “You’re only saying this because you are upset. Another hour, and you’ll be fighting again. Sullivan’s is in your blood.”

  “I wish it wasn’t,” she said fiercely, because on some level she knew he was right.

  But she meant it. For once, she truly wanted free of the burden. She’d done so much, fought so hard—and the mountain only seemed to grow taller. She felt like Sisyphus, condemned to roll the same damn rock up the same damn mountain, only to watch it roll back down again once she’d reached the pinnacle.

  There had to be something better in life, right? Something more important? She could feel Roman’s heart beating beneath her ear, the rhythmic pulse strong and steady, and she knew with a certainly what that something was.

  Love. Family. Joy.

  She knew then what this fierce restlessness was: she still loved him. It was a jubilant realization—and a sobering one. She loved this man, had always loved him—and yet she’d betrayed him. Betrayed them both.

  She’d taken what he’d felt for her and shattered it like a piece of fine crystal dropped from a great height.

  Fear curled around her heart then. How could you ever reassemble something so broken? So completely and utterly demolished? How could she fix what she’d done?

  He wanted her physically, but that was no longer enough for her. She wanted what she should have had in the first place. Roman, Ryan, a life together filled with love and happiness.

  Was it possible? Would it ever be possible?

  She could feel the change in him as they stood there in silence for too long, the slight stiffening of his body, the sudden urge to disconnect from her. She dropped her arms first, because she couldn’t bear to cling to him and have him push her away.

  He took a step back, his handsome face carefully blank, as if he’d erased every emotion. Caroline’s world felt as if it had been turned inside out.

  “You don’t mean that, Caroline,” he said, and she wondered for a moment what he was talking about. And then she remembered—she’d said she wished Sullivan’s wasn’t in her blood.

  “What if I do?” Her heart felt as if it, too, had been turned inside out. She wondered if he could see everything she felt, as if the truth shone bright and hard from beneath the cracks in the veneer she’d been showing to the world for too long. “What if I want to go back and start again? Make a different choice this time?”

  He didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. She could see it in the rigid line of his jaw, the flashing of his blue eyes.

  “Don’t,” he told her, his voice hard again. “You made your choice. Anything we might have had was destroyed when you walked away and took our child with you.”

  * * *

  They had dinner on the veranda. Shrimp, jerk chicken, grilled vegetables, spicy rice and beans, and fried plantains. There was cool, crisp white wine, and coffee. Caroline ate in silence, listening to Ryan chatter about his day at the beach. Her gaze kept straying to Roman, who looked both uptight and relaxed at once.

  He seemed to realize how critical it was to engage with Ryan when his son spoke to him. Though he appeared surprised by the continual questions being directed at him, he answered them admirably. Even confidently, as if he was beginning to understand that all he need do to be involved was make Ryan comfortable with him.

  When the meal was over, Blake announced it was time for Ryan’s bath. Ryan started to whine in protest.

  “No arguments, young man,” Blake said. “It’s time.”

  Ryan turned to his mother. “I want Mr. Roman to go with me,” he said, and her heart squeezed tight. Her gaze met Roman’s over the table for the first time since he’d walked away from her that afternoon.

  His eyes burned hot, searing into hers. She tore her gaze away, her heart skipping crazily. “You need to ask him,” she told Ryan.

  The boy turned to his father. She knew the effort it took for him to overcome his innate shyness. He was growing accustomed to Roman, that was clear, but they hadn’t known each other very long yet. This request was a far bigger deal than perhaps Roman realized. She prayed that he would, however, and that he’d agree.

  “Would you take me for my bath, Mr. Roman?” he asked, his little voice quieter than it had been, his eyes downcast.

  For a painful heartbeat, Roman didn’t speak. Then he met her gaze over Ryan’s head, and while she wasn’t certain what she saw there, she knew he understood the import.

  Roman pushed back from the table and stood without a word. She almost held her breath, but she knew he was going to accept, knew that he was overcome by whatever chaotic emotions were whirling inside him, and that speech was beyond him at this second.

  He held out his hand to Ryan. The little boy slipped from his chair and put his small hand in his father’s much larger one. They stood that way for a moment, Roman looking hard at her. She couldn’t tell what was behind that enigmatic stare—hatred? Rage? Resentment?

  Probably some combination of them all. And then he looked away, and she felt bereft suddenly, as if she’d been standing in full sunlight and was then plunged into an arctic pool.

  “You will have to tell me what this bath involves,” Roman said, turning his full attention to Ryan. The two of them disappeared into the house, Ryan talking excitedly. They were gone for a handful of heartbeats before Caroline turned to look at Blake, her eyes shimmering with tears she couldn’t hide.

  “Oh, honey,” Blake said, coming over and squeezing her shoulder. “It’ll all work itself out. You’ll see. He just needs time.”

  Caroline swallowed hard a few times before she could manage to speak. “I’m not sure it will. I ruined whatever he felt for me a long time ago.”

  Blake only smiled. “I doubt that, sweetie. I seriously do.” He patted her shoulder before returning to his seat. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

  Dear, sweet Blake. She laughed in spite of herself. “You’re nearly as arrogant as he is, you know that?”

  He looked smug as he speared a chunk of mango with his fork. “I know what I know.”

  * * *

  Roman found her on the beach. He hadn’t gone looking for her so much as he’d needed to get out and clear his head with a long walk in the tropical dusk. Apparently, she’d needed the same.

  His heart twisted in his chest, as it often seemed to do these days, at the sight of her standing there with her golden hair streaming down her back, her shoes dangling from one hand, her long legs bare to midthigh, where the hem of her casual dress lay.

  It hit him with a visceral punch to the gut just how much he hated her and wanted her.

  Except he couldn’t quite lie to himself anymore. He didn’t hate her. He never had. He’d hated what she’d done to him, hated what her betrayal had cost him, but he didn’t hate the woman. How could he? Especially now that he knew she was the mother of his child?

  She’d been young and, he remembered, eager to please her father. Of course she would have done whatever Frank Sullivan asked her to do. Roman felt a bubble of anger well inside him at the thought of the man who’d cut him off so thoroughly. Yet even that didn’t last long when he thought of the other man wasting away with illness.

  He’d blamed the Sullivans for years for what had happened to his mother, but the truth was that his father had caused her condition. If Andrei Kazarov hadn’t been a brute and a bully, she would have never needed the kind of care that had cost so much more than Roman could afford.

  As he looked at Caroline now, he realized that what he felt for her was a giant tangle of things he’d never solve. It was like being caught in a labyrinth with a thousand possible threads to follow toward freedom. He suspected, however, that he was never getting free.

  The waves broke close to shore tonight, and then rushed high up on the sand. Caroline stood with her back to him and let the water flood around her ankles before it rolled out to sea again.

  He didn’t
make a sound, but somehow she heard him. She turned at his approach and stood there with the shoes dangling and one arm wrapped around her middle. Her eyes were huge in her pale face. For a minute, he wanted to go to her and drag her into his arms. But then he remembered his son calling him “Mr. Roman” and his heart throbbed with hurt.

  She didn’t say anything at all, just watched him with those eyes that held a world of pain, and he grew angry with himself for wanting to take that pain away. He was supposed to be the one in pain, not her.

  He thought of his little boy tonight, of all the ways he’d felt so awkward and out of sorts, trying to help with a bath and bedtime. How could he ever forgive her for that?

  “I’m sorry, Roman,” she finally said. “For everything.”

  She made him feel rough inside, as if he’d been scraped against the rocks again and again.

  “I don’t believe apologies are enough.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest. “I know that. But it’s all I have.”

  Roman moved closer, until he was standing beside her and gazing out to sea. She turned until they were both facing the same direction again. Neither of them spoke for the longest time. They simply listened to the waves crashing, crashing, crashing against the beach.

  “When I went back to Russia, I had no money. I had no job.” He swallowed, unable to believe what he was about to say to her. And yet he had to. He felt it in his bones. If he didn’t let out the rage, he might never figure out how to move beyond it. “My mother had been in a nursing home. I sent money to care for her when I worked for your father. When I returned, I couldn’t pay for her to stay there anymore.”

  Beside him, he could hear Caroline gasp. “Oh, Roman—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “Nyet. I had to move her into a cheap apartment in Moscow. My brothers and I took turns doing what we could. We hired a nurse to come as often as we could afford. Without the specialized care in the nursing home, she died sooner than we expected.”

  Fresh tears rolled down Caroline’s face. He felt the guilt of it pierce him to the core. It wasn’t her fault. If he’d kept working for the Sullivan Group, his mother still would have died. She just would have done so in a better environment.

  “She was going to die, anyway,” he said softly. “Her mind was already gone. Had been for years.”

  “What happened to her, Roman?”

  He closed his eyes against the memories, the pain. “My father was a very violent man, solnyshko. We will leave it at that.”

  She closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, burying her head against his chest. For a moment he didn’t move. And then, almost without thought, his arms went around her body and held her tight.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rumblings of Leadership Changes at Sullivan’s

  CAROLINE FELT SO many things in that moment. Love, sadness, worry, sorrow, fear—and maybe a zillion other emotions she would never identify. “You never told me your mother was ill,” she said against the warm hardness of his chest.

  “We were too busy talking about other things,” he said, his voice a rumble in her ear. “Whenever we did talk.”

  She pushed back to look up at him. There was sadness etched on his features. Pain. It made her heart ache. They had more in common than only a child, it would seem.

  “I wish I’d known.”

  He shrugged. “There was nothing to be done. She was being taken care of.”

  Caroline squeezed his arms. “I’m so sorry. I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love, and to feel utterly helpless to prevent it.”

  He pushed a lock of her hair that had blown free behind her ear. She shivered with the sensations that rolled through her at that simple gesture. “You were very much affected by Jon’s death.”

  “He was my best friend.” She pulled in a breath, determined to go on. “He was a good father to Ryan. He loved him as if Ryan were his own.”

  Roman didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I am glad then. Since I could not be there.”

  Caroline swallowed. “You should have been. I should have found a way to tell you, once I knew where you were.”

  He blew out a breath. “I am beginning to think nothing is as simple as it seems, in retrospect. We both made mistakes.”

  Her breath caught. “Did we?”

  He looked so serious. “Da. I believed you too readily when you told me you didn’t love me. I should have fought harder.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she said, her throat aching with the weight of her words. “I still had to marry Jon in order to save the stores. I couldn’t let people suffer when it was in my power to prevent it. And I couldn’t see my heritage destroyed.”

  He took her hand in his, threaded his fingers through hers. “And this is why you fight so hard now. Why you refuse to give up.”

  “It’s Ryan’s heritage, too. I can’t let you break it up.”

  “He is my son, Caroline. He will inherit all I have built. If this includes Sullivan’s, it will still go to Ryan.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “I thought you wanted to demolish it.”

  He shrugged. “I am a business man, solnyshko. I will do what is best for the company, and for my bottom line.”

  So many feelings welled within her then—relief, love, gratitude. She’d thought he would destroy the stores simply to get back at her. She was used to her life falling apart just when she thought everything was going well.

  But perhaps he wouldn’t destroy anything. Perhaps they could build something good out of the ashes of the past. Perhaps, this time, it would all work out the way she wished.

  “Sullivan’s shouldn’t be in this position,” she said. “But it all went wrong when we didn’t realize—” She swallowed hard. Her father’s illness was something they’d kept from becoming public knowledge simply to prevent the media spectacle the news would bring.

  “Didn’t realize what, Caroline?”

  Her chest ached. “We didn’t realize that my father was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. That he was losing his sense of self, and had become easy prey to those who wanted to profit from his mistakes.”

  Roman looked stunned. “I can hardly believe it. Your father was always larger than life. Just five years ago...”

  “I know. But it’s true. He doesn’t remember much of anything anymore. He doesn’t know me at all. Or Ryan.”

  “Solnyshko moya, I’m sorry.”

  She looked away from him suddenly, fighting the tears that wanted to keep coming until there was nothing left, until she was an empty husk. Life was so different now than it had been five years ago. Two years ago.

  Even one year ago.

  It was lonelier and harder, and she was tired of it. Tired of putting on a brave face and pretending everything was okay. Tired of being strong when she felt anything but. When she wanted to howl and wail and gnash her teeth against the unfairness of it all.

  “Caroline,” he said, and she turned to look at him. “You don’t have to be strong every moment of every day.”

  “I can’t help it,” she whispered. “It’s all I know.”

  He cursed then, and dragged her against him.

  She clung to him, to the warmth and hardness of his body in the tropical dusk. This was where she wanted to be. Where she’d always wanted to be.

  In this man’s arms, in his life. He was murmuring to her in Russian. She didn’t know what he said, but it sounded beautiful to her ears.

  And then he tilted her head back and fused his mouth to hers. It was a hot, wet, sensual kiss that sizzled into her like lightning. Her body was on fire. Needy.

  His mouth slanted over hers, taking everything she gave him. They fell onto the wet sand as the sky turned purple and stars dotted the fabric of the night. His big body hovered over hers, pressing her into the surf.

  When the tide rolled in again, she gasped with the rush of water over her body, but she didn’t care th
at she was soaked. The sea was warm, but the breeze cooled her. Her nipples responded, beading tight against the thin cotton of her dress. Roman lifted himself away from her as she shuddered, concern in his gaze.

  Whatever he might have said was lost, however, as his gaze slid over her. The dress clung to every curve, every dent and hollow of her body. His gaze fastened on her nipples. And then he was cursing softly, unbuttoning her dress and peeling it aside so he could fasten his warm mouth on her cold flesh.

  Caroline arched her back, gasping when he curled his tongue around her nipple. This was what she wanted, what she’d missed for far too long. She’d had a taste of it that one glorious night they’d spent together in L.A., but it had been over so quickly.

  Now, however, she reacted like a madwoman. Moaning and writhing and urging him onward. Before he changed his mind. Before something happened to break this magical spell between them.

  She tilted her hips up, arching into him, glorying in the answering hardness pressing back into her.

  “I want you,” she gasped when he sucked hard on her sensitive nipple, sending a spike of pleasure into her femininity. “Please, Roman.”

  He lifted his head then, and they stared at each other for several heartbeats. And then he dropped his head with a groan and kissed her. Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her body into his as if she feared he would change his mind.

  One hand slid down her form, over her hip, and then inward. He angled his body away to finish unbuttoning her dress before he peeled it open, revealing her to the night air and his hot eyes.

  “Caroline,” he said, his voice a growl against her skin. “How I want you.”

  Her heart soared at the need in his voice. This thing between them was like the tide—inevitable, relentless, timeless. It simply was, regardless of everything that should have killed it.

  She trailed her fingers to the hem of his T-shirt. “Take me,” she told him, her voice a choked whisper. “I’m yours.”