His Diamond of Convenience

by Maisey Yates

  He looked at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. She could feel frustration coming off him in waves. “No, Victoria, they are not the same thing. I could go out onto the street, snap my fingers and have any woman I wanted—do you realize that? I can go right outside this hotel this very moment and find a woman and be back in my room having sex with her in less than an hour. I have that choice.” His voice vibrated with intensity, an intensity that echoed through her. “But...I don’t want to make it. Because I want you.” The words hit her hard, unexpected and, much more unexpected than the words themselves, welcome.

  He wanted her.

  He wanted her.

  Not because of what she could offer him, but because he was attracted to her. He already had use of her, without seduction. This had to do with lust. Simple lust. And it meant more to her than she’d ever imagined something like that might.

  He continued. “Do you suppose I find that terribly convenient? Do you suppose I want that? No, I would much rather have the easy way. What man wouldn’t? But with us, it will never be simple.”

  Victoria’s throat constricted, her chest tightening. “Why bother with something that isn’t easy?” she asked. “I mean...isn’t life hard enough?”

  “True,” he said, his voice rough. “But easy is never fun. Not for people like us.”

  The truth that resonated, in his words and through her, was unwelcome. “I would take some easy,” she contradicted.

  He met her gaze. “No. You don’t want easy. You’re like me. You want a fight. You want this fight, too, don’t you?”

  “Fine,” she said, barely able to force the words out. “Fine, I want you. But I don’t want to want you.” She finished the rest of it in a rush, not quite able to believe she’d said it out loud.

  She felt as though she had stuck her head into a bonfire. She’d done this once before. And she’d been rejected horribly, seen her entire life turned upside down because she’d chased after desire. She had laid herself bare and been turned away, and even saying those words to Dmitri now took her right back to that place. To feeling as though she’d taken her clothes off for him to either accept or reject. Just as she’d done back then. But this was more somehow, bigger, even without all of the feelings that had accompanied her attempted seduction of Nathan.

  Because it had been one thing to offer herself to a man when she’d been a sixteen-year-old girl who had wanted something nebulous and romantic. Who had wrapped everything in the soft haze of love and fine feelings.

  It was quite another thing to say it to a man like Dmitri. When what she wanted had nothing to do with romance or love. When it had everything to do with desire. When she was a woman and old enough to understand exactly what that meant. To know that the ache between her thighs was because she was desperate to be filled by him, that she wanted him inside of her, skin to skin, clinging to each other as they both chased their climax.

  She felt dizzy, her vision getting fuzzy around the edges, the world tilting on its axis.

  “I will not seduce you,” he said, his voice rough, “you have my word.”

  She laughed shakily. “As if you could seduce me.”

  “I already have, Victoria. I think I proved that last night. I said I enjoyed having you mindless, and I did. But the truth is I do not want you mindless when I finally take you to bed. I want you to know exactly what you’re getting into. I want you to know exactly what you are agreeing to when you say yes, Dmitri, yes. So I will not seduce you. You will choose it. You will beg me,” he said, his tone rough, harsh, his dark eyes blazing.

  This was not the laid-back playboy she’d met, casually sparring with a man in the gym. This was the warrior. And for the first time she truly appreciated what he was.

  And it only enticed her further.

  “I would not...” She tried to force words through her dry throat. “I will not...”

  “If you will not, then we will not. I will not push it.” He unbound the leather cuff that was tied around his wrist. She had noticed it on their first meeting and a couple of times since. It had stood out because he was a man who didn’t seem to care about his appearance one way or another, which meant it wasn’t just a simple accessory. He took it in his hands, then held it out toward her. “Take this.”

  She closed the distance between them and took it, running her fingers over the leather, still warm from the contact with his skin.

  Everything about him made her warm.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “This is something that I always wore when I fought. It’s kind of a good luck charm. It has no real sentimental significance. I wore it in fights.” His tone was detached, as though he was speaking well-rehearsed lines that were meant for someone else. “I don’t fight anymore. I only wear it out of habit. It’s yours now.”

  There was something more. Something he wasn’t telling her. And yet she felt she had no right to question him. Because she shouldn’t care.

  But she found she did.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why are you giving this to me? To make me feel indebted to you? If so, I must tell you it will take more than a leather bracelet to accomplish that.”

  “That isn’t the idea. I feel in debt to you. You gave something to me last night.”

  Her heart pounded wildly, and she wondered for a moment if he had guessed. If he had known that he was the first man to ever give her an orgasm. If he had figured out that she was a virgin. That would be a humiliation too many.

  “What is it I gave you?” she asked.

  “Your release, princess. I consider that a gift.” He reached out and touched the end of the cuff, avoiding her skin. “I’m giving this to you with no expectation. It makes us even. However—” his eyes met hers, and a sharp shock of pleasure hit her low and square in the stomach “—if you would like to be with me all you have to do is return this.” He lowered his hand and took a step back.

  She swallowed hard, drawing her hands to her chest, holding the cuff tight. “Why?”

  “Nathan seduced you. You were young, and he took advantage of that. If you and I are together I want to know it’s your choice. I want to know for sure that it’s because you want to be with me. That you have made a decision to be with me. This will prove it.”

  She curled her fingers around the strap. “Well, you won’t be getting it back, so I really hope you weren’t lying about it having no sentimental value attached to it.”

  “I wasn’t. That is your decision. I will not take it from you. As I said, if you want me, you will have to give it to me. I know what it is like to be left with no choice. I find nothing attractive about forcing a woman into my bed. Force by tricking someone, by stripping their options, threatening them...all of it is the same to me. I know what it’s like. To have the impossible before you. A moment that changes everything. That wrenches your choices right from your hands. I will not do the same to you. You have my word.”

  And suddenly, Dmitri turned and walked out of the room, leaving her standing there clutching the leather bracelet.

  She looked down at it, the symbol of her choice that he had placed in her hand. And she tightened her grasp. She was going to resist this. She had to. If she didn’t, she would have no one to blame but herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EVERYTHING WAS GOING according to plan—the tables were set perfectly, an elegant dinner laid out before exceedingly happy guests. Victoria was thrilled with the outcome of the gala, and with the turnout. The one thing she was less than thrilled about was Dmitri. Not because he hadn’t dressed the part, but because he had, and so convincingly. He was almost a stranger tonight in a well-fitted tux that molded so perfectly to his masculine physique it had clearly been made for him.

  His tattoos were covered, his muscles only hinted at, and yet, he still didn’t appear quite tame. She was glad sh
e could see the hint of wildness because civilized Dmitri was off-putting. She didn’t know why he was off-putting, only that he was. She had become strangely attached to the surly, feral man she had spent the past couple of days with. The man who had kissed her, touched her out on the balcony last night.

  She thought of her clutch purse, sitting in the cloakroom, containing the leather cuff Dmitri had given her earlier. She intended to hold on to it forever.

  So why she had brought it with her into the ballroom she had no idea. Because she wouldn’t be needing it. Because she would not be returning it to him.

  But you want to.

  She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, hoping to cool the arousal that was pouring through her body. She couldn’t dwell on this. Could not give in to the attraction she felt for him.

  She also did her best to ignore the sound of her shoes on the marble floor. Her rather saucy high heels that she’d never given a second thought to before Dmitri.

  Shoes that begged a man to bend her over furniture, he’d said.

  No.

  She did her best to ignore the voice that was growing increasingly louder inside of her. The voice that was starting to question her resoluteness. Starting to wonder why it would be such a bad idea to just give in to what she wanted.

  Because, the more sensible part of her answered, I’ve spent too long forcing myself into this mold to break out of it now.

  Well, that sounded like her. Clinging to something out of sheer bloody-mindedness and no other reason.

  What about fear? Is fear a good enough reason?

  Yes, she had decided fear was a good enough reason. And she ignored the kick of disappointment in her gut as she reaffirmed her decision. She was keeping the leather cuff with her. He was never getting it back. Good luck charm or not. The slight twinge of guilt she felt about it was ridiculous, because that was why he had given her the cuff in the first place. She was certain of it. To make her feel guilty, to make her feel as if she should give it back, rather than holding on to it because of what it was, not because of what she wanted.

  Of course, that wasn’t how he’d said it.

  Leaving the decisions entirely up to her, now that she thought about it, was the worst part. Because if she indulged herself, she was to blame. Because if she deprived herself, it was because of her. And she couldn’t blame anyone else. It was the only good thing about Nathan, and the incident with him.

  She’d been sixteen, and while she took her share of the blame, rerouting her entire life based on her mistake, she logically knew that a good portion of the fault lay with him. Because he had been adult. Because she’d had no experience with men.

  She hadn’t realized until this moment, standing in a crowded ballroom, just how much blame she did allow Nathan to bear. And how that blame spared her a good portion of the pain she would feel otherwise.

  It made her wonder if what really held her back was fear. Fear of rejection. That she might take her clothes off for a man again and see nothing but pity. See that while he’d wanted to use her, he didn’t really want her body at all.

  That there was something wrong with her, with it. With everything she was inside and out.

  She couldn’t stand that.

  She took a deep breath. This was not the time to be thinking about that. She had to circulate. More importantly, she had to find her fiancé and circulate with him.

  She looked across the ballroom and saw him standing next to a table with a tray of champagne positioned on it, looking out of place.

  There he was, the Dmitri she knew. He looked too large for the space, too wild. And that was precisely what drew her to him.

  She started to cross the room and he looked up, meeting her eyes. He schooled his expression into one of perfect civility and leaned back against the wall, waiting for her to come to him, his movements fluid like a panther. Or more terrifying, like a banker. When she made her way to where he was, he didn’t speak, instead taking her hand in his and lowering his head to kiss her knuckles.

  She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from focusing too intently on the press of his lips against her skin. On what it had felt like to have his lips touch her other places. She cleared her throat. “Who are you? And what have you done with Dmitri?”

  He released her hand. “Are you not pleased?”

  “I’m pleased. You look every inch the suave sophisticate. How can I not be pleased?”

  “You do not seem pleased.”

  She lifted her shoulder. “I’m possibly a little bit confused. You seem different.”

  “Because I’m not shirtless and dripping with sweat?”

  She swallowed hard. “Perhaps. Perhaps it is that.” It was, partly. Because the wilder parts of him were so well concealed right now, and she rather admired those parts.

  Not because they matched her in any way, but because they so weren’t her. Because they were so far from her reality. They were like everything good and lush. Refreshing in a dry wasteland of parties, crystalline conversation and self-denial, of which she had grown exceedingly weary.

  Just then she felt very tired. Tired of being good. Tired of the long road to atonement. Tired of being afraid.

  Tired, quite frankly, of being a virgin.

  She would do anything right at this moment to go back to the moment on the balcony when his hand had skimmed over her curves and she had felt nothing but desire. When she had felt no guilt, no trepidation, nothing but need. When the voices in her head had been completely blocked out in favor of the heat that was coursing through her body.

  And her mind was back on the cuff that was in the cloakroom in her bag.

  No.

  “So—” she snagged a glass of champagne from the nearby tray “—how do you find the party so far?”

  “It is going well. I’m not particularly looking forward to giving my speech, but I feel prepared.”

  “You are prepared.” Much more prepared than she had imagined he could be for something like this.

  “And you look surprised.”

  “I am, perhaps, a little bit surprised.”

  “Don’t be—this was your idea.”

  She looked away from him. “I suppose my surprise comes from the fact that you listened to me.”

  “Well, I did enlist your services. And your hand.”

  She lifted her hand, causing the yellow diamond on her finger, which she was starting to like, to glisten in the light. “More like I enlisted yours,” she said.

  “But I agreed that you could be of use.”

  “Oh. That’s nice. I’m of use,” she said, lowering her hand.

  “Not exactly the use I’m hoping for yet.”

  “Stop,” she said, ignoring the flush of pleasure that went through her. She should be angry at him. She should not find him sexy.

  The music stopped playing, and the emcee running the event went to the front of the room and started doing an introduction for Dmitri.

  For some reason her stomach went tight. It wasn’t possible she was nervous for him, was it?

  No, not that. She was nervous because she needed it to go well. Because he needed to say the right thing, or else all of this would be pointless. She was here to help him, and she really did want this to succeed. She didn’t like failing, even when the cause wasn’t hers.

  Dmitri downed the rest of his champagne quickly, then set the glass down on the table next to them. Unthinkingly, she reached up and straightened his tie, her fingertips brushing his skin just above his shirt collar, sending lightning shooting through her. She cleared her throat. “You’ll do fine.”

  A smile curved his lips, and yet she could see that he was strained. “Of course I will. I win every fight I step into.”

  He walked away from her toward the front of the room, taking
his position on the stage. And then he began to speak.

  “I would like to thank you all for coming here tonight. I would like to thank most especially my beautiful fiancée, Victoria Calder, for arranging such a civilized event. If left to my own devices you would all be eating cocktail weenies from a buffet.” That line elicited laughter from the audience. “I am not known for my sophistication and manners—that much is true. What I am best known for is my fighting. Times have changed for me—my life has changed. But what has not changed is the foundation I was built on. Things that I learned under the mentorship of Colvin Davis. A native of New Orleans, Colvin came to London to change his fortune, then he traveled to Russia looking for champion fighters and found...me. A disappointment, I would think. But he saw my potential. What happened after that changed life for both of us.” He shifted his position at the podium, and Victoria held her breath, willing him to keep talking. To keep going. To keep fighting. She could see his discomfort, but she imagined the audience didn’t. He had a good mask. But she knew him well enough to see beyond it. When had that happened? And why?

  He continued. “The values he instilled in me were the values that enabled me to become not only an award-winning fighter, but a successful businessman. He gave me control when I had none. He helped me manage my anger when anger was all I had. He gave me life when before all I had was survival. This is what I want to offer the children who come to the gyms I hope to establish with this charity. A place with mentors, a place for them to learn patience. To learn to protect themselves. And the values to know when to use it. An important part of martial arts is the control you learn along with it, and it is that control that changed my life. I hope you will allow me to pass this on to others. I hope you will allow me to change life for these children the way it was changed for me. I hope you will be moved to give generously.”

  It was completely silent in the room, not even the sound of clinking cutlery on plates breaking the reverie that had settled over them. “I know my reputation has not always been exemplary. I have enjoyed my fame, my money. Coming from poverty, having access to so many new things...it turned my head. But Colvin brought me from the darkness, and without him I would not be here standing before you. And without Victoria Calder I would not be here tonight.” He gestured toward her and all eyes were now on her. She smiled, easily, never finding it a challenge to play to a crowd. And yet, this felt different. This was affecting something in her chest, making her feel things. For him. And she would use it now. Use it to make this look real. He was lying now, giving her credit where none was due, and he was doing it to lend validity to a charity that was coming from his heart, not hers. She wouldn’t fail him now. It seemed essential somehow. As if this moment was pivotal. As if it somehow overshadowed the mistakes of the past, the present large and full, more important than it had been in years. With the past looming large and the future her hope, now was so often lost. But not in this moment.