by Dani Collins
Now it was Roman’s turn to exhale a bitter laugh. ‘Why am I not surprised? Of course your loving guardian wouldn’t have admitted that he’d had the chance to save his daughter’s life and chosen not to.’
Rallying as quickly as possible, she pressed on. ‘I am not responsible for the actions of a man who took those actions before I was even at school.’ But guilt? Yes. She did feel guilty for all that she’d been given and all that his mother had been denied. And somewhere deep down she also felt heartbroken for the child who had been denied, the young boy she could see simmering beneath the surface of this dark façade her husband had come to wear, a boy who would have begged and pleaded for help to save his mother.
* * *
Despite her flatly delivered refusal, he could see the truth shining in her eyes. His wife was not such a great actress after all, and had clearly been as much in the dark as he about Vladimir’s plans to dangle her like bait. Nor could he fail to see the open wound he had poked and prodded with the reminder of just how badly she had been used by Vladimir.
‘Why are you here?’ he demanded, seeking a reason to avoid the reminder that he had inflicted his own damage upon her. ‘Because I doubt it was to rehash the past.’ Instead he focused on words that would bring back his worthy opponent. ‘You turn up on the night of my grandfather’s funeral dressed like sin and my only conclusion can be that you want something—but I think it would be remiss of me to assume.’
‘It would. I want a divorce.’
He’d known it was coming. Had been ignoring emails and letters sent to his office by her team of lawyers for some time now. Yet inexplicably he wanted to prolong this moment.
‘And what if I suddenly find I don’t want a divorce from my delicious wife?’
‘Then you’d better rethink your intentions. Because I have nothing left to lose.’ Her simple declaration sliced into his skin, the accusation hitting his usually impenetrable heart infallibly. ‘You, however, have a great deal to lose.’ He felt everything in him rear up at the warning. This wife of his should not be underestimated and suddenly he found himself enjoying this new version of her. This determined and confident woman was much more intriguing than the guileless young woman from France.
‘So,’ she pressed on, ‘if you choose not to grant the annulment you taunted Vladimir with, then I will make myself deeply inconvenient for you.’
He scoffed. ‘How do you think you could do that?’
‘As someone with twenty-five per cent of the shares of Kolikov Holdings, left to me by my father’s trust fund, and now by Vladimir, a number that automatically makes me a shareholding partner rather than a silent one, I think I could become quite a problem for you.’
Shock cut through him like a knife. A physical reaction that wasn’t missed by his newly determined wife and, much to his chagrin, she laughed, the cool sound scraping over suddenly sensitive nerves. That bastard. His grandfather had not only fooled him, tricked him, but, further than that, he’d had the last laugh.
‘You might have got the company name,’ she said, ‘you might have got the CEO’s position, but did you think Vladimir would make it that easy? Did you think I would make it that easy after what you did to me? If I were of a mind I could start by renewing my friendship with the members of the board. Is Burian still trying to brew his own beer? He would always try and get Vladimir to drink the stuff. And what about Evgeni and Illarion? Are they still trying to compete with each other over who can out-gift the other at Christmastime? Such dear men and so very kind to me growing up.’
Roman struggled to laugh off her warning. ‘I don’t think you know those men as well as you think you do. Each and every one of them would sell their grandmother for a greater payout.’
‘That might be the case. But this company isn’t the only thing you care about, is it? After all, your reputation is one of the things that makes men quake in their boots. How do you think they would feel to see you brought low by your wife?’
‘And just how do you think you might achieve such a thing?’
‘As my own reputation means so very little to me, I would be more than happy to create such a scandal that you would see my face everywhere you went, every newspaper, every online article—I would make sure that the world knew that the Great Wolf’s wife was bringing him to his knees.’
She was joking. Surely.
‘Imagine—the wife of the world’s greatest seducer looking elsewhere for her pleasure. What would that do to your precious reputation?’
‘You’re an innocent, you wouldn’t even know how,’ he declared.
He watched in horrified fascination as his wife turned her gaze from his to some poor dolt at the neighbouring table. Roman hadn’t spared a glance at him, but the other man had obviously not done the same for Ella—who now focused her entire being on him. A quirked eyebrow and delicious curve of red-painted lips brought a blush to the man’s cheeks. Before he took in Roman’s scowling features, put his drink down and made his way to a safe distance on the other side of the room.
Ella turned back to Roman, the look in her eyes unadulterated victory.
‘My virtue is meaningless, my innocence destroyed. You saw to that. You like to think that you’re the big bad wolf, but I was raised by the biggest, baddest wolf of them all. You taught me revenge and vengeance and I might just find that I enjoy it.’
CHAPTER FIVE
And the wolf smiled. For Red Riding Hood had knocked upon the door and in a heartbeat he would bid her enter. And once he had her where he wanted her…there would be no turning back.
The Truth About Little Red Riding Hood
—Roz Fayrer
SOMETHING INFERNAL ROARED within him. Hot, hard and angry. He was angry that she would try to seduce another in front of him, and also angry on her behalf. She had no idea what kind of power she wielded. Especially looking like that. He hadn’t lied when he’d said she looked like sin. All the images crashing through his mind taunted him with what he could not have. Writhing in his mind as if on silk bed sheets.
The sheer naivety of trying to get at him, at his reputation by sleeping with another man, infuriated him. Not that for one moment he believed that she’d actually go through with it. But Ella’s fiancé had fought hard with Roman not to give in to his baser desires and take her time and time again in France. All those opportunities he’d turned back from in order not to ruin her innocence and here she was, just wanting to throw it away?
He rounded the table, grasped her elbow and practically dragged her through the bar towards the bank of discreet lifts at the back.
‘That wasn’t seduction, that was an open invitation.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere private to have this conversation. A place where the patrons of my establishment won’t be subjected to a crude opening of the bedroom door which would have left you both unsatisfied and grieving for the loss of your innocence.’
With the swipe of his key card the lift doors opened and, despite the urge to practically throw her into the small space, he released her elbow and gestured for her to enter before him.
She did so, surprisingly without argument, and he stepped in to face her. ‘Seduction is about power,’ he said, looming over her, yet also trying desperately not to make physical contact, not to touch a millimetre of the deliciously small form practically vibrating with the same ferocious energy he felt building within him. ‘The giving and taking of it, subtly shifting between the seducer and the seduced. I do not think you are ready for that.’
‘I am not the girl I once was,’ she said. He gave her credit for managing to keep the tremors of her body from her voice.
‘And I am not the man you married.’
‘So, who are you then?’ she demanded.
‘The man who is trying to show you that, should you choose to go down that path, you would only get yourself into mor
e trouble than you are in now.’
The lift arrived and the doors parted to reveal his penthouse apartment. But Ella saw none of the incredible views of Moscow from the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that took up the entire length and width of the side wall. She saw nothing of the expensively decorated room, the fireplace and sprawling leather sofa that could have easily seated six people. Instead, the sheer dismissal of Roman’s reaction to her threat had fired outrage within her breast. An outrage that contained a hint of the hurt that her husband had refused to touch her, that the Great Wolf, as the newspapers had reported him to be, the ‘errant seducer’, had chosen to leave her innocent.
And that wall of heat, that fire within her wanted it all to burn. Every last shred of a connection between her and this man.
‘Oh, how very kind of you to look after my innocence now. After you took everything I knew and tore it down.’
‘Everything you knew? Really? You met and married a man within five weeks. I did not force you into it.’
His words taunted her, scratched at wounds not yet healed. ‘You lied to me.’
‘It was a kindness. I didn’t have the luxury of lies growing up.’
‘A kindness?’
‘Yes. Would you rather I’d kidnapped you and forced you?’
She wanted to growl, to scream her rage. ‘You present two equally awful options and ask me which is better?’
‘I did not blackmail you, nor abuse your body. Your innocence is no defence against your own actions, and ignorance is no excuse.’
‘Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?’ she demanded.
‘Don’t you think it is better to know the truth about Vladimir? He used you as bait for me. Does that not outrage you?’
‘You think it worse to be used by him than you?’
‘Yes. Trust in that. If not me, then there would have been worse options out there.’
‘You think there is worse out there than what you did to me?’ Ella said, unable to wrap her head around the fact that her husband clearly thought himself a saviour of sorts.
‘Yes. Believe it or not, there are. Ones who wouldn’t have stopped themselves from taking everything you had on offer, including your innocence and much more.’
‘Don’t you dare paint yourself in some heroic light, rescuing me from a fate worse than you.’
‘I didn’t come after your money or your body.’
‘I hate you,’ she growled, finally letting loose all the pent-up energy and hurt accrued over the last eight months.
‘Good. Now you might just understand a fraction of what I felt for my grandfather.’
* * *
Roman turned away in frustration, stalking towards the window and passing a hand through his hair rather than reaching for her and shaking her as he wanted to do—shake some sense into the woman his wife had become. But he hadn’t brought her to his apartment to talk about the past. No. Now he was working towards damage limitation for her and himself. He had to persuade her from her ridiculous plan. Had to show her the dangerous fire she was playing with.
Spinning back to her, he pressed on. ‘Tell me. What would you do once you found the unsuspecting key to your revenge against me, Ella? Would you be able to do what I did? Would you be able to seduce? To bend another to your will?’
He snared her with his gaze and took slow deliberate steps towards her, the unconsciously lithe movements catching her attention and widening her eyes.
‘Because true seduction involves the chase.’ This he could do. This he could give her. A final lesson to teach her the error of her plans. ‘It’s about timing. When to make your move. Not when you are ready, but when they are.’
As if conjuring the very thing he wanted to warn her against, he watched as her body turned to him, in tune with his every movement, and cursed both her and himself to hell and damnation.
‘It is the appreciation of what your prey is feeling,’ he said as her eyes flared as much as his own arousal, no longer able to ignore the way that his body had reacted to hers. The way her nipples had pebbled beneath the tight confines of her dress, the way her breath hitched, caught in her throat, as if equally under the sensual spell he was weaving between them.
‘The heady sense of anticipation when they know what’s coming and no longer fight it but actively want it. When every nerve, every cell of their body is on fire with need, with desire, an intensity that becomes almost undeniable. It’s the moment when your prey is most alive, ready and willing to succumb to their own desire.’
He was bare inches from her now, no longer sure who was the seducer or the seduced, his breath just as ragged as her own.
* * *
‘You talk of seduction and power as if you didn’t already know that you had all the power all along?’ Ella threw at the man mere inches from her, crowding her in the most delicious of ways. She hated what her body wanted, the yearning that almost choked her. The need. Her only defence ineptly thrown barbs at a man who seemed more well versed in the cravings of her own body than herself.
‘Really? And what if I gave you all the power now? What would you take from me? How would you exact your revenge? Is it a signature you want or is there something else?’
Her mind stopped. Short-circuited. Instead, it threw up images of her deepest, darkest dreams from the last eight months. Fantasies of a wedding night that had never been, ones that she could barely admit to herself even though she’d woken up morning after morning hot and exhausted, aching with an unsatisfied need. A need that only one man could truly satisfy.
‘Is that why you’re really here? Do you know as much as I that we have unfinished business?’ he demanded, his words surprisingly soft, gentle almost, seductive.
‘Says the man who reportedly saved my innocence,’ she bit out angrily.
He leaned into her then, closing the small space between them, dipping his head to whisper in her ear. ‘Says the woman who would give it away to have her revenge.’
He pulled back, his eyes raking over her body as if looking for something, some kind of sign—something she feared that her body would betray. Had perhaps already betrayed.
‘What if I said that you could take your vengeance out on me? Right here, right now?’ Once again, her husband was pulling the rug from beneath her. Turning her words and intentions against her. Because suddenly she wanted that more than anything. She barely had the time to wonder if she had been fooling herself all along. If she had, in fact, come here with that one purpose.
‘What if I gave you one night—just this night—to take whatever it is you want? Because, Ella, I would lay myself prostrate on that funeral pyre and die a happy man.’
The raw admittance, guttural and dark with desire, completely undid her. A strange heady sense of vulnerability, the image of her husband willingly giving her whatever she desired for this one night, fired a heat deep within her until she ached, a sob of need rising within her chest threatening to escape.
‘And I am supposed to believe a word that comes out of your mouth?’ Her last line of defence, half begging and half pleading, for what outcome, she no longer knew.
‘Then don’t believe my words… Believe this.’
His lips claimed hers with an almost primal need. These were not the same gentle sweet-tasting lies pressed against her lips she remembered. This was raw, unadulterated desire. Seeking, demanding, expecting.
She gasped as her mouth opened to his, desperately seeking oxygen that only served to feed the fire within her. The fire of need and want and so much more. Yes, she admitted to herself, this was what she had wanted.
Ever since she had first seen him, Ella had sensed this about him, had desired and coveted it. All her imaginings of how she would feel, what it would be like, paled in comparison as his arms swept around her, his hands trailing fire across her body, over her breasts and clutching at
her hips, drawing her into him, against him, against his arousal. Showing her his own need for her.
‘This is what you do to me, Ella. Does that please you?’
Ella could not speak, could barely think to respond, but her body knew. She groaned into his kiss, the shocking sound of her own desire undeniable. Her hands flew to his chest, her mind warring with her heart as she fisted the cotton of his shirt, claiming and owning her own need for him in a way that shocked her.
While his tongue plundered her mouth, rendering her senseless to anything but the raw passion he was building within her, his hands teased up the taut hemline of her skirt a few inches, his fingers reaching beneath to mould her thighs and backside with his palms. Her passionate cries were nothing compared to the growl of raw want that vibrated across her skin.
Drawing back, he spun her in his arms and pressed her against the wall of the room, her arms coming up to brace against the strangely soothing cool panel. His body leaned against her from behind and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, nudging her head to one side to give himself better access to the sensitive area behind her ear. Held like this, she felt completely surrounded, crowded but deliciously so, desperate for more, for something she couldn’t quite explain.
His hand clutched the nape of her neck briefly, strongly, a display of his power, there and gone in a moment, as he pressed the pad of his thumb to the top of her spine and traced the outline to where the material of her dress barely covered the curve of her hips. She arched into the touch, pressing her breast into his other hand, and nearly cried out as he ran a knuckle over her hardened nipple.
His hands covered her, worshipped her, slipping beneath the material that barely covered her breast and causing her to lean back against him, against the hard ridge of his arousal. Her head drew back to rest against his shoulder, her breathing harsh and her cries of pleasure falling about them, discarded in the air.
