She clearly had no idea how powerful lust could be. Her first experience would hit her like a tidal wave.

It would be so easy to seduce her, Kasimir thought. One kiss, one stroke. Josie would be totally unprepared for the fire. But she would be an apt student. He felt that in the tremble of her hand as he slid the ten-carat diamond ring on her finger. In the rosy blush on her cheeks as she placed the plain gold band on his. All he would have to do was kiss her, touch her, and she’d be lost in a maelstrom of pleasure she would not know how to defend herself against. She’d fall like a ripe peach into his hands.

Except he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

About the Author

JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the US, supporting herself with jobs as diverse as gas station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.

At twenty-two she met the man who would be her husband. After their marriage she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.

Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she’s having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can’t physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at jennie@jennielucas.com

Recent titles by the same author:

DEALING HER FINAL CARD

(Princes Untamed)

TO LOVE, HONOUR AND BETRAY

A NIGHT OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY

RECKLESS NIGHT IN RIO

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Reputation
for Revenge
Jennie Lucas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

TWO DAYS AFTER Christmas, in the soft pink Honolulu dawn, Josie Dalton stood alone on a deserted sidewalk and tilted her head to look up, up, up to the top of the skyscraper across the street, all the way to his penthouse in the clouds.

She exhaled. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t. Marry him? Impossible.

Except she had to.

I’m not scared, Josie repeated to herself, hitching her tattered backpack higher on her shoulder. I’d marry the devil himself to save my sister.

But the truth was she’d never really thought it would come to this. She’d assumed the police would ride in and save the day. Instead, the police in Seattle, then Honolulu, had laughed in her face.

“Your older sister wagered her virginity in a poker game?” the first said incredulously. “In some kind of lovers’ game?”

“Let me get this straight. Your sister’s billionaire ex-boyfriend won her?” The second scowled. “I have real crimes to deal with, Miss Dalton. Get out of here before I decide to arrest you for illegal gambling.”

Now, Josie shivered in the cool, wet dawn. No one was coming to save Bree. Just her.

She narrowed her eyes. Fine. She should take responsibility. She was the one who’d gotten Bree into trouble in the first place. If Josie hadn’t stupidly accepted her boss’s invitation to the poker game, her sister wouldn’t have had to step in and save her.

Clever Bree, six years older, had been a childhood card prodigy and a con artist in her teens. But after a decade away from that dangerous life, working instead as an honest, impoverished housekeeper, her sister’s card skills had become rusty. How else to explain the fact that, instead of winning, Bree had lost everything to her hated ex-boyfriend with the turn of a single card?

Vladimir Xendzov had separated the sisters, forcibly sending Josie back to the mainland on his private jet. She’d spent her last paycheck to fly back, desperate to get Bree out of his clutches. For forty-four hours now, since the dreadful night of the game, Josie had only managed to hold it together because she knew that, should everything else fail, she had one guaranteed fallback plan.

But now she actually had to fall back on the plan, it felt like falling on a sword.

Josie looked up again at the top of the skyscraper. The windows of the penthouse gleamed red, like fire, above the low-hanging clouds of Honolulu.

She’d caused her sister to lose her freedom. She would save her—by selling herself in marriage to Vladimir Xendzov’s greatest enemy.

His younger brother.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, she repeated to herself. And, considering the way the Xendzov brothers had tried to destroy each other for the past ten years, Kasimir Xendzov must be her new best friend. Right?

A lump rose in her throat.

I would marry the devil himself…

Slowly, Josie forced her feet off the sidewalk. Her legs wobbled as she crossed the street. She dodged a passing tour bus, flinching as it honked angrily.

There was no backing out now.

“Can I help you?” the doorman said inside the lobby, eyeing her messy ponytail, wrinkled T-shirt and cheap flip-flops.

Josie licked her dry lips. “I’m here to get married. To one of your residents.”

He didn’t bother to conceal his incredulity. “You? Are going to marry someone who lives here?”

She nodded. “Kasimir Xendzov.”

His jaw dropped. “You mean His Highness? The prince?” he spluttered, gesticulating wildly. “Get out of here before I call the police!”

“Look, please just call him, all right? Tell him Josie Dalton is here and I’ve changed my mind. My answer is now yes.”

“Call him? I’ll do nothing of the sort.” The doorman pinched his nose with his thumb and finger. “You must be delusional… if you think you can just walk in off the street…”

Josie rummaged through her backpack.

“His Highness’s presence here is secret. He is here on vacation…”

“See?” she said desperately, holding out a business card. “He gave me this three days ago. When he proposed to me. At a salad bar near Waikiki.”

“Salad bar,” the doorman snorted. “As if the prince would ever…” He saw the embossed seal, and snatched the card from her hand. Turning over the card, he read the hard masculine scrawl on the back: For when you change your mind. “But you’re not his type,” he said faintly.

“I know,” Josie sighed. Twenty pounds overweight, frumpy and unstylish, she was painfully aware that she was no man’s type. Fortunately Kasimir Xendzov wished to marry her for reasons that had nothing to do with love—or even lust. “Just call him, will you?”

The man reached for the phone on his desk. He dialed. Turning away, he spoke in a low voice. A few moments later, he faced Josie with an utterly bewildered expression.

“His bodyguard says you’re to go straight up,” he said in shock. He pointed his finger towards an elevator. “Thirty-ninth floor. And, um, congratulations, miss.”

“Thank you,” Josie murmured, tugging her knapsack higher on her shoulder as she turned away. She felt the doorman watching her as she crossed the elegant lobby, her flip-flops echoing against the marble floor. She numbly got on the elevator. On the thirty-ninth floor, the door opened with a ding. Cautiously, she crept out into a hallway.

“Welcome, Miss Dalton.” Two large, grim-looking bodyguards were waiting for her. In a quick, professional motion, one of them frisked her as the other one rifled through her bag.

“What are you checking for?” Josie said with an awkward laugh. “You think I would bring a hand grenade? To a wedding proposal?”

The bodyguards did not return her smile. “She’s clear,” one of them said, and handed her back the knapsack. “Please go in, Miss Dalton.”

“Um. Thanks.” Looking at the imposing door, she clutched her bag against her chest. “He’s in there?”

He nodded sternly. “His Highness is expecting you.”

Josie swallowed hard. “Right. I mean, great. I mean…” She turned back to them. “He’s a good guy, right? A good employer? He can be trusted?”

The bodyguards stared back at her, their faces impassive.

“His Highness is expecting you,” the first one repeated in an expressionless voice. “Please go in.”

“Okay.” You robot, she added silently, irritated.

Whatever. She didn’t need reassurance. She’d just listen to her intuition. To her heart.

Which meant Josie was really in trouble. There was a reason her dying father had left her a large parcel of Alaskan land in an unbreakable trust, which she could not receive until she was either twenty-five—three years from now—or married. Even when she was a child, Black Jack Dalton had known his naive, trusting younger daughter needed all the help she could get. To say she could be naive about people was an understatement.

But it’s a good quality, Bree had told her sadly two days ago. I wish I had more of it.

Bree. Josie could only imagine what her older sister was going through right now, as a prisoner of that other billionaire tycoon, Kasimir Xendzov’s brother. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“For Bree,” she whispered, and flung open the penthouse door.

The lavish foyer was empty. Stepping nervously across the marble floor, hearing the echo of her steps, she looked up at a soaring chandelier illuminating the sweeping staircase. This penthouse was like a mansion in the sky, she thought in awe.

Josie’s lips parted when she saw the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Crossing the foyer to the great room, she looked out at the twinkling lights of the still-dark city, and beyond that, pink and orange sunrise sparkling across the Pacific Ocean.

“So… you changed your mind.”

His low, masculine purr came from behind her. She stiffened then, bracing herself, slowly turned around.

Prince Kasimir Xendzov’s incredible good looks still hit her like a fierce blow. He was even more impossibly handsome than she remembered. He was tall, around six foot three, with broad shoulders and a hard-muscled body. His blue eyes were electric against tanned skin and dark hair. The expensive cut of his dark suit and tie, and the gleaming leather of his black shoes spoke of money—while the ruthlessness in his eyes and chiseled jawline screamed power.

In spite of her efforts, Josie was briefly thunderstruck.

Normally, she had no problems talking to people. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as a stranger. But Kasimir left her tongue-tied. No man this handsome had ever paid her the slightest notice. In fact, she wasn’t sure there was any other man on earth with Kasimir’s breathtaking masculine beauty. Looking into his darkly handsome face, she almost forgot to breathe.

“The last time I saw you, you said you’d never marry me.” Kasimir slowly looked her over, from her flip-flops to her jeans and T-shirt. “For any price.”

Josie’s cheeks turned pink. “Maybe I was a bit hasty,” she stammered.

“You threw your drink in my face.”

“It was an accident!” she protested.

He lifted an incredulous dark eyebrow. “You jumped up and ran out of the restaurant.”

“You just surprised me!” Three nights ago, on Christmas Eve, Kasimir had called her at the Hale Ka’nani Hotel, where she was working as a housekeeper. “My sister told me to never talk to you,” she’d blurted out when he introduced himself. “I’m hanging up.”

“Then you’ll miss the best offer of your life,” he’d replied silkily. He’d asked her to meet him at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant near Waikiki Beach. In spite of knowing he was forbidden—or perhaps because of it—she was intrigued by his mysterious proposal. And then she’d been even more shocked to find out he’d meant a real proposal. Marriage.

“You ran away from me,” Kasimir said quietly, taking a step towards her, “as if you were being chased by the devil himself.”

She swallowed.

“Because I did think you were the devil,” she whispered.

His blue eyes narrowed in disbelief. “This is your way of saying you’ll marry me?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she choked out. “You…”

Her throat closed. How could she explain that even though he and his brother had ruined their lives ten years ago, she’d still been electrified by Kasimir’s bright blue eyes when he’d asked her to marry him? How to explain that, even though she knew it was only to get his hands on her land, she’d been overwhelmed by too many years of yearning for some man, any man, to notice her—and that she’d been tempted to blurt out Yes, betraying all her ideals about love and marriage?

How could she possibly explain such pathetic, naive stupidity? She couldn’t.

“Why did you change your mind?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you need the money?”

They did need to pay off the dangerous men who’d pursued them for ten years, demanding payment of their dead father’s long-ago debts. But Josie shook her head.

“Then is it the title of princess that you want?”

Josie threw him a startled glance. “Really?”

“Many women dream of it.”

“Not me.” She shook her head with a snort. “Besides, my sister told me your title’s worthless. You might be the grandson of a Russian prince, but it’s not like you actually own any land—”

Whoops. She cut off in midsentence at his glare.

“We once owned hundreds of thousands of acres in Russia,” he said coldly. “And we owned the homestead in Alaska for nearly a hundred years, since my great-grandmother fled Siberia. It is rightfully ours.”

“Sorry, but your brother sold your homestead to my father fair and square!”

He took a step towards her.

“Against my will,” he said softly. “Without my knowledge.”

Josie took an unwilling step back from the icy glitter in his blue eyes. A self-made billionaire, Kasimir Xendzov was known to be a ruthless, heartless playboy whose main interest, even more than dating supermodels or adding to his pile of money, was destroying his older brother, who had cheated him out of their business partnership right before it would have made him hundreds of millions of dollars.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” she lied, “why would I be?”

“There are… rumors about me. That I am more than ruthless. That I am—” he tilted his head, his blue eyes bright “—half-insane, driven mad by my hunger for revenge.”

Her mouth went dry. “It’s not true.” She gulped, then said weakly, “Um, is it?”

He gave a low, threatening laugh. “If it were, I would hardly admit it.” He turned away, pacing a step before he looked back at her. “So you’ve changed your mind. But has it occurred to you,” he said softly, “that I might have changed my mind about marrying you?”

Josie looked up with an intake of breath. “You—wouldn’t!”

He shrugged. “Your rejection of me three days ago was definitive.”

Fear, real fear, rushed through Josie’s heart. She’d gambled her last money to come here. Without Kasimir’s help, Bree would be lost. She’d be Vladimir Xendzov’s possession. His slave. Forever. Her shoulders felt tight as hot tears rushed behind her eyes. Desperately, she grabbed his arm.

“No—please! You said you’d do anything to get the land back. You said you made a promise to your dying father. You—” She frowned, suddenly distracted by the hard muscle of his biceps. “Jeez, how much weight lifting do you do?”

He looked at her. Blushing, she dropped his arm. She took a deep breath.

“Just tell me. Do you still want to marry me?”

Kasimir’s handsome face was impassive. “I need to understand your reason. If it’s not to be a princess…”

She gave a choked laugh. “As if I’d marry someone for a worthless title!”

His dark eyebrow lifted. “For your information, my title isn’t worthless. It’s an asset. You’d be surprised how many people are impressed by it.”

“You mean you use it as a shameless marketing tool for your business interests.”

His lips curved with amusement. “So you do understand.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to bow.”

“I don’t want you to bow.” He looked up, his blue eyes intent. “I just want you to marry me. Right now. Today.”

Staring at his gorgeous face, Josie’s heart stopped. “So you do still want to marry me?”

He gave her a slow-rising smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Of course I want to marry you. It’s all I’ve wanted.”

He was looking down at her… as if he cared.

Of course he cares, she told herself savagely. He cares about getting his family’s land back. That’s it.

But when he looked at her like that, it was too easy to forget that. Her heart pounded. She felt… desired.

Josie tried to convince herself she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel a strange tangle of tension and breathless need. She didn’t.

Kasimir reached out a hand to touch her cheek. “But tell me what changed your mind.”

The warm sensuality of his fingers against her skin made her tremble. No man had touched her so intimately. His fingertips were calloused—clearly he was accustomed to hard work—but they were tapered, sensitive fingers of a poet.

But Prince Kasimir Xendzov was no poet. Trembling, she looked down at his strong wrist, at his tanned, thick forearm laced with dark hair. He was a fighter. A warrior. He could crush her with one hand.

“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 expression 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.”

“But it’s true.”

“I’m being strictly professional, just as you said. Courtesy is part of business.”

“Oh.” She considered this, then slowly nodded. “In that case…”

“I’m glad you agree.” He wondered if she would still accuse him of kindness if she knew the truth about what he intended to do with her. Or exactly why she was the answer to his prayer.

An hour ago, he’d been on the phone in his home office, barely listening to his VP of acquisitions drone on about how they could sabotage Vladimir’s imminent takeover of Arctic Oil. He’d been too busy thinking about how his own recent plan to embarrass his brother had blown up in his face.

Kasimir had long despised Bree Dalton, the con artist he blamed for the first rift between the brothers ten years ago. All this time, he’d kept track of her from a distance, waiting for her to go back to her old ways (she hadn’t) or to agree to let Josie marry him to get the land (she wouldn’t, and he could go to hell for asking).

Kasimir had finally decided to try another way: Josie herself.

Until they’d met at the Salad Shack a few days ago, all he’d known of Josie was in a file from a private investigator, with a grainy photograph. Six months ago in Seattle, the man had tested her by dropping a wallet full of cash in the aisle of a grocery store in front of her. Josie had run two blocks after the man’s car, catching up with him at a stoplight, to breathlessly give the wallet back, untouched. “Girl’s so honest, she’s a nut,” the investigator had grumbled.

So finally, Kasimir had come to a decision. Knowing his brother was recuperating from a recent car-racing injury in Oahu with a private weekly poker game at the Hale Ka’nani, he’d bribed the general manager of the resort, Greg Hudson, to hire the Dalton sisters as housekeepers. He’d hoped Vladimir would have a run-in with Bree Dalton, causing him a humiliating scene, but that was just an amusement. Kasimir’s real goal in coming here had been to try to negotiate for the land, and the requisite marriage, directly with Josie Dalton.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d flung her soda at him and run out. Or that, according to the report he’d gotten from Greg Hudson, not only had there been no screaming match between Vladimir and Bree, they’d apparently fallen into each other’s arms at the poker game. Bree had won back the entire amount of her sister’s wager, then promptly accepted Vladimir’s offer to a single-card draw between them—a million dollars versus possession of Bree.

Reintroducing the formerly engaged couple to happiness after ten years of estrangement, had never been Kasimir’s plan. For the past day and a half, he’d been grinding his teeth in fury. He’d spent last night dancing at a club, women hitting on him right and left, until even that started to irritate him, and he’d gone home early—and alone.

Then, like a miracle, he’d been woken from sleep with the news that Josie Dalton was here and wished to marry him after all.

And now, here she was. He had her. She’d just changed his whole world—forever.

He could have kissed her.

“I will be happy to get you a cake,” he said fervently. “And a designer wedding gown, and a ten-carat diamond ring.” Reaching for her hand, he kissed it, then looked into her eyes. “Just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. He felt her hand tremble in his own before she yanked it away. “Just bring my sister home. Safely away from your brother.”

“You have my word. Soon.” He rose to his feet. “I must call my lawyer. In the meantime, please take some time to rest.” He gestured to the bookshelves of first-edition books. “Read, if you like. Your breakfast will be here at any moment.” He gave a slight bow. “Please excuse me.”

“Kasimir?”

He froze. Had Josie somehow guessed his plans? Was it possible her expressive brown eyes had seen right through his twisted, heartless soul? Hands clenched at his sides, body taut, Kasimir turned back to face her.

Josie’s eyes were shining, her expression bright as a new penny, as she leaned back against the sofa pillows. His gaze traced unwillingly over the patterns on her skin, along the curve of her full breasts beneath her T-shirt, left by the soft morning light.

“Thank you for saving my sister,” she whispered. She took a deep breath. “And me.”

Uneasiness went through him, but he shook it away from his well-armored soul. He gave her a stiff nod. “We will both benefit from this arrangement. Both of us,” he repeated stonily, squashing his conscience like a newly sprouted weed.

“But I’ll never forget it,” she said softly, looking at him with gratitude that approached hero-worship. Her brown eyes glowed, and she was far more beautiful than he’d first realized. “I don’t care what people say. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned away from her. Once he reached his home office, he phoned his chief lawyer to arrange the prenuptial agreement and discuss ways to break Josie’s trust as quickly as possible. The discussion took longer than expected. When Kasimir returned to the library an hour later, he found Josie curled up fast asleep on the sofa, with a cold, untouched breakfast tray on the table beside her.

Kasimir looked down at her. She looked so young, sleeping. Had he ever been that young? She couldn’t be more than twenty-two, eleven years younger than he was, and more stupidly innocent than he’d been at that age. In spite of himself, he felt an unwelcome desire to take care of her. To protect her.

His jaw set. And so he would. For as long as she was his prisoner—that was to say, his wife.

He reached a hand out to wake her, then stopped. He looked down at the gray shadows beneath her eyes. No. Let her sleep. Their wedding could wait a few hours. She deserved a place to rest, a safe harbor. And so he would be for her….

Carefully, he picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her upstairs to the guest room. Without turning on the light, he set her gently on the mattress, beside the blue silk pillows. He stepped back, looking down at her in the shadowy room.

He heard her sweetly wistful voice. I do love a good wedding cake with buttercream-frosting roses.

Kasimir had told her the truth. She would be his only wife. He never intended to have a real marriage. Or trust any human soul enough to give them the ability to stab him in the back. This would be as close as he’d ever get to holy matrimony. For the few brief weeks of the marriage, Josie Dalton would be the closest he’d ever have to a wife. To a family.

He took a deep breath. She’d make an exceptional wife for any man. She was an old-fashioned kind of woman, the kind they didn’t make anymore. From his investigator’s reports, he knew Josie was ridiculously honest and scrupulously kind. Six months ago, a different private investigator had her under surveillance in Seattle. He’d dressed as a homeless street person, which should have rendered him invisible. Not to Josie, though. “She came right up to me to ask if I was all right,” the man reported in amazement, “or if I needed anything. Then she insisted on giving me her brown-bag lunch.” He’d smiled. “Peanut butter and jelly!”

What kind of girl did that? Who had a heart that unjaded and, well—soft?

Unlike Vladimir and Bree, unlike Kasimir himself, Josie deserved to be protected. She was an innocent. She’d done nothing to earn the well-deserved revenge he planned for the other two.

Even though it would still hurt her.

He felt another spasm beneath his solar plexus.

Guilt, he realized in shock. He hadn’t felt that emotion for a long time. He wouldn’t let it stop him. But he’d be as gentle as he could to her.

Turning away from Josie’s sleeping form, he went back downstairs to his home office. He phoned his head secretary, and ten minutes later, he was contacted by Honolulu’s top wedding planner. Afterward, he tossed his phone onto his desk.

Swiveling his chair, he looked out the window overlooking the penthouse’s rooftop pool. Bright sunlight glimmered over the blue water, and beyond that, he could see the city and the distant ocean melting into the blue sky.

For ten years, he’d been wearing Vladimir down, fighting his company tooth and claw with his own, getting his attention the only way he knew how—by making him pay with tiny stings, death by a thousand cuts.

But getting Bree Dalton to betray Vladimir would be the deepest cut of all. The fatal one.

Rising to his feet, Kasimir stood in front of the window, hands tucked behind his back as he gazed out unseeingly towards the Pacific. He’d give his lawyer a few weeks to transfer possession of Josie’s land back to his control. By then, once the two little lovebirds were enmeshed in each other, Kasimir would blackmail Bree into stealing his brother’s company away.

He narrowed his eyes. Bree would crush Vladimir’s heart beneath her boot, and his brother would finally know what it felt like to have someone else change his life, against his will, when Bree betrayed him.

She’d have no choice. Kasimir had all the ammunition he needed to make Bree Dalton do exactly as he wanted. A cold smile crossed his lips.

He had her sister.

CHAPTER TWO

JOSIE’S EYELIDS FLUTTERED, then flew open as she sat up with a sharp intake of breath.

She was still fully dressed. She’d been sleeping on an enormous bed, in a strange bedroom. The masculine, dark-floored bedroom was flooded with golden light from the windows.

How long had she been sleeping? She yawned, and her mouth felt dry, as if it was lined with cotton. Who had brought her here? Could it have been Kasimir himself?

The thought of being carried in those strong arms, against his powerful chest, as she slept on unaware, caused her to tremble. She looked down at the mussed white bedspread.

Could it possibly be his bed…?

With a gulp, Josie jumped up as if it had burned her. The clock on the fireplace mantel said three o’clock. Gracious! She’d slept for hours. She stretched her arms above her head with another yawn. It had been nice of Kasimir to let her sleep. She felt so much better.

Until she saw herself in the full-length mirror on the other side of the bedroom. Wait. Was that what she looked like? She took three steps towards it, then sucked in her breath in horror, covering her mouth with her hand.

Josie knew she wasn’t the most fashionable dresser, and that she was a bit on the plump side, too. But she’d had no idea she looked this bad. She’d crossed the Pacific twice in the same rumpled T-shirt and wrinkled, oversize men’s jeans that she’d bought secondhand last year. In her flight back from Seattle, she’d been crushed in the last row, in a sweaty middle seat between oversize businessmen who took her armrests and stretched their knees into her personal space. And she hadn’t had a shower or even brushed her teeth for two days.

Josie gasped aloud, realizing she’d been grungy and gross like this when she’d been face-to-face with Kasimir. Picturing his sleek, expensive clothes, his perfect body, the way he looked so powerful and sexy as a Greek god with those amazing eyes and broad shoulders and chiseled cheekbones, her cheeks flamed.

She narrowed her eyes. She might be a frumpy nobody, but there was no way she was going to face him again, possibly on her fake wedding day, without a shower and some clean clothes. No way!

Looking around for her backpack, she saw it sitting by the door and snatched it up, then headed for the large en suite bathroom.

It was luxurious, all gleaming white marble and shining silver. Tossing her tattered backpack on the marble counter, where it looked extremely out of place, she started to dig through it for a toothbrush. Some great packing job, she thought in irritation. In the forty seconds she’d rushed around their tiny apartment in Honolulu, trying to flee before Vladimir Xendzov could collect Bree as his rightful property, Josie had grabbed almost nothing of use.

The top of a bikini—just the top, no bottom. Her mother’s wool cardigan sweater, now frayed and darned. Some slippers. She hadn’t even remembered to pack underwear. Gah!

Desperately, she dug further. A few cheap souvenirs from Waikiki. Her cell phone, now dead because she’d forgotten to pack the charger. A tattered Elizabeth Gaskell novel which had belonged to her mother when she was a high-school English teacher. A small vinyl photo album, that flopped open to a photo of her family taken a year before Josie was born.

Her heart twisted as she picked it up. In the picture, her mother was glowing with health, her father was beaming with pride and five-year-old Bree, with blond pigtails, had a huge toothless gap in her smile. Josie ran her hand over their faces. Beneath the clear plastic, the old photo was wrinkled at the edges from all the nights Josie had slept with it under her pillow as a child, while she was left alone with the babysitter for weeks at a time. Her parents and Bree looked so happy.

Before Josie was born.

It was an old grief, one she’d always lived with. If Josie had never been conceived, her mother wouldn’t have put off chemotherapy treatments for the sake of her unborn child. Or died a month after Josie’s birth, causing her father to go off the deep end, quitting his job as a math teacher and taking his seven-year-old poker-playing prodigy daughter Bree down the Alaskan coast to fleece tourists. Josie blinked back tears.

If she had never been born…

Her parents and Bree might still be happy and safe in a snug little suburban home.

Squaring her shoulders, she shook the thought away. Tucking the photo album back into her bag, she looked at her own bleak reflection, then grabbed her frayed toothbrush, drenched it in minty toothpaste and cleaned her teeth with a vengeance.

A moment later, she stepped into the steaming hot water of the huge marble shower. The rush of water felt good against her skin, like a massage against the tired muscles of her back and shoulders, washing all the dust and grime and grief away. Using some exotic orange-scented shampoo with Arabic writing—where on earth had Kasimir gotten that?—Josie washed her long brown hair thoroughly. Then she washed it again, just to be sure.

It was going to be all right, she repeated to herself. It would all be all right.

Soon, her sister would be safe.

Soon, her sister would be home.

And once Bree was free from Vladimir Xendzov’s clutches, maybe Josie would finally have the guts to tell her what she felt in her heart, but had never been brave enough to say.

As much as she loved and appreciated all that Bree had sacrificed for her over the past ten years, Josie was no longer a child. She was twenty-two. She wanted to learn how to drive. To get a job on her own. To be allowed to go to bars, to date. She wanted the freedom to make mistakes, without Bree as an anxious mother hen, constantly standing over her shoulder.

She wanted to grow up.

Turning off the water, she got out of the shower. The large bathroom was steamy, the mirrors opaque with white fog. She wondered how long she’d been in the water. She didn’t wear a watch because she hated to watch the passage of time, which seemed to go far too slowly when she was working, and rushed by at breakneck speed when she was not. Why, she’d often wondered, couldn’t time rush by at work, and then slip into delicious slowness when she was at home, lasting and lasting, like sunlight on a summer’s day?

Wrapping a plush white towel around her body, over skin that was scrubbed clean with orange soap and pink with heat, she looked at the sartorial choices offered by her backpack. Let’s see. Which was better: a wool cardigan or a bikini top?

With a grumpy sigh, she looked back at the dirty, wrinkled T-shirt, jeans and white cotton panties and bra crumpled on the shining white tile of the bathroom floor. She’d worn those clothes for two days straight. The thought of putting them back over her clean skin was dreadful. But she had no other option.

Or did she…?

Her eyes fell upon something hanging on the back of the bathroom door that she hadn’t noticed before. A white shift dress. Going towards it, she saw a note attached to the hanger.

Every bride needs a wedding dress. Join me at the rooftop pool when you’re awake.

She smiled down at the hard black angles of his handwriting. She’d thought she hadn’t wanted a dress, that she wanted to keep their wedding as dull and unromantic as possible. But now… how had he known the small gesture would mean so much?

Then she saw the dress’s tag. Chanel. Holy cow. Maybe the gesture wasn’t so small. For a moment, she was afraid to touch the fabric. Then she stroked the lace softly with her fingertips. It felt like a whisper. Like a dream.

Maybe everything really was going to be all right.

Josie exhaled, blinking back tears. She’d taken a huge gamble, using her last paycheck to come back to Honolulu, trusting Kasimir to help her. But it had paid off. For the first time in her life, she’d done something right.

It was a strangely intoxicating feeling.

Josie had always been the one who ruined things, not the one who saved them. She’d learned from a young age that the only way to make up for all the pain she’d caused everyone was just to take a book and go read quietly and invisibly in a corner, making as little trouble or fuss as possible.

But this time…

She tried to imagine her sister’s face when Josie burst in with Prince Kasimir and saved her. Wouldn’t Bree be surprised that her baby sister had done something important, something difficult, all by herself? Josie, her usually unflappable sister would blurt out, how did you do this? You’re such a genius!

Josie smiled to herself, picturing the sweetness of that moment. Then she looked down at her naked body, pink with heat from the shower. Time to do her part, but maybe it wouldn’t be so awful after all. How hard could it be, to get dressed in a fancy wedding gown, and marry a rich, handsome prince?

Pulling the white shift dress off the hanger, she stepped into it. Pulling it up her thighs, she gasped at the feel of the sensual fabric against her skin. It was a little short, though.

Josie frowned, looking down. It only reached to her mid-thigh. Maybe it would be all right, though. She reached back for the zipper. As long as it wasn’t…

Tight. She stopped. The zipper wouldn’t zip. Holding her breath, she sucked in her belly. Nervously, she moved the zipper up inch by inch, afraid she’d break it and ruin the expensive dress. Finally the zipper closed. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her full breasts were pushed up by the tight dress, practically exploding out of the neckline. She looked way too grown-up and, well, busty. Bree would never have let her leave the house like this in a million years.

But it was either this or the dirty clothes. She decided she could live with tight. She’d just have to be careful not to bust a seam every time she moved.

Going to her backpack in mincing steps, she grabbed a brush and brushed her wet brown hair down her shoulders, leaving traces of dampness against the silk. She put on her pink flip-flops—it was either that or fuzzy slippers, and she was in Hawaii, after all—and some tinted lip balm. She left the bedroom with as much elegance as she could muster, her head held high.

Tottering down the stairs to the bottom floor of the penthouse, Josie went through the rooms until she finally found her way to the rooftop pool, with the help of the smiling housekeeper she’d found in the big kitchen. “That way, miss. Down the hall and through the salon.”

The salon?

Josie went through a large room with a grand piano, then through the sliding door to the rooftop pool. She saw Kasimir at a large table, still dressed in his severely black suit, leaning back in his chair. He was talking on the phone, but when he saw her, his eyes widened.

Nervously, Josie walked along the edge of the pool towards him. She had to sway her hips unnaturally to move forward, and she felt a bead of sweat suddenly form between her breasts. The sun felt hot against her skin.

Or maybe it was just the way her bridegroom was looking at her.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he breathed to the person on the phone, never looking away from Josie, and he rose to his feet. His gaze seemed shocked as it traveled up and down her body. “What are you wearing?”

“The wedding dress. That you gave me. Should I have not?”

“That—” his voice sounded strangled “—is the dress I left you?”

“Yeah, um, it’s a little tight,” she said, her cheeks burning. She wasn’t used to being the center of any man’s attention, let alone a man like Prince Kasimir Xendzov. Then she bit her lip, afraid she’d sounded like she was complaining. “But it was really thoughtful of you to get me a wedding dress,” she added quickly.

He slowly looked her up and down. “You look…”

She waited unhappily for his next word.

“… fine,” he finished huskily, and he pulled out a chair for her. “Please sit.”

Fine? She exhaled. Fine. She could live with fine. “Thanks.”

But could she sit down? Clutching the edges of the short hem, she sat down carefully. The expensive craftsmanship paid off. The seams held. She exhaled.

Until, looking down, she saw she was flashing way too much skin. With the dress tugged so hard downward, her breasts were thrust up even higher, and the fabric now just barely covered her nipples for decency. Trying to simultaneously pull the dress higher over her breasts and lower over her thighs, she bit her lip, glancing up in chagrin.

Fortunately, to her relief, as he sat down across the table from her, Kasimir’s gaze seemed careful not to drop below her eyes. He indicated the lunch spread across the table. “You’ve come at the perfect time.”

She looked at the chicken salad, fresh fruit and big rolls of crusty bread. It all looked delicious. But even Chanel craftsmanship would only go so far. “I probably shouldn’t,” she said glumly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You must be starving. You fell asleep before breakfast. You’ve not had a decent meal for days.” Taking a plate, he started to load it with a bit of everything. “We can’t have you fainting during our wedding this afternoon.”

She almost laughed aloud. Her? Faint from hunger?

Food had always been Josie’s guilty pleasure. She felt self-conscious about the extra pounds she carried around, sure, but not enough to give up the pastries and candy she loved. Unlike Bree, who boringly ate the same healthy salad and nuts and fish every day, Josie loved trying exotic new cuisine. Maybe she didn’t have the money or courage to travel around the world, but eating at a Thai or Mexican or Indian restaurant was almost as good, wasn’t it? Especially when she found a half-price coupon. She looked at the delicious meal in front of her. And this was even better than half price!

She gave him a sudden grin. “Who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch, huh?”

“Glad you understand.” Placing the full plate in front of her, Kasimir gave her a wicked grin. “You are going to be my wife, Josie. That means, as long as you are mine, all you will know—is pleasure.”

Their eyes locked, and she felt that strange flutter in her belly—a flutter that had nothing to do with cookies, couscous or even chocolate. “Okay,” she whispered as heat pulsed through her body. She unconsciously licked her lips. “If you insist.”

“I’ll admit the dress is a bit tight. Women’s fashions are often a mystery to me,” he said huskily. “I very rarely pay attention to them—except when I’m taking them off.”

“I bet,” she said shyly, shaking a little. Could he see that she was a virgin with zero sexual experience? Could he tell? Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, she dropped her own back to her plate. Even across the table, he felt so close to her. And too good-looking. Why did he have to be so good-looking? Not to mention sophisticated and powerful. He looked like a million bucks in that dark vested suit.

Sitting back in his chair, he filled himself a plate, then pushed a pile of papers towards her. “You need to sign this.”

“What is it?”

“Our prenuptial agreement.”

“Fantastic,” she said, looking up in relief.

His eyebrows raised. “Not the usual reaction I’d expect.”

“Remember, I want to keep our arrangement nice and official.” She started reading through the first pages, pausing to sign and initial in places. As she read, she took a bite of a crusty bread, then a nibble of the ginger chicken salad. It was surprisingly good, with carrots, lettuce and cilantro. She ate some more. “Have you found my sister yet?”

“I might have an idea where Vladimir could have taken her.”

“Where?”

“I’ll look into it further.” He tilted his head. “After we are married.”

“Oh. Right. The deal.” She took a deep breath. “But she’s safe?”

He snorted. “What do you think?”

She looked up. “You think she is?”

“She is crafty. And sly. I doubt even my brother will be able to control her,” he said dryly. “It’s more likely she’d be putting him through hell.”

Feeling reassured, she leaned her elbows against the table. “You don’t like my sister, do you?”

“She’s a liar,” he said evenly. “A con artist.”

“Not anymore!” Josie cried, stung.

“Ten years ago, she told my brother your land was legally hers to sell. Then she tried to distract him from doing his due diligence with her big weepy eyes and a low-cut blouse.”

Josie licked her lips. “We were desperate. My father had just died, and violent men were demanding repayment of his debts—”

“Of course.” He shrugged contemptuously. “Every criminal always has some hard-luck story. But our company was still new. We wanted our family’s land back, but we could little afford to lose the thousands of dollars in earnest money she planned to steal from us. She had Vladimir so wrapped around her finger, she would have succeeded…”

She shook her head vehemently. “She told me the whole story. By then she’d already fallen in love with your brother, and was planning to throw herself on his mercy.”

“On his mercy? Right. I told him the truth about her, and he refused to believe me.” He looked away. “I decided to fly back to our site in Russia, alone. At the airport, I drunkenly told a reporter the whole story. The next morning, when my brother found himself embarrassed in front of all the world, he pushed me out of our partnership. And out of a Siberian deal he signed two days later worth half a billion dollars.”

“I’m sorry about the problems between you and your brother, but it wasn’t Bree’s fault!”

“No. It was Vladimir’s. And mine.” He narrowed his eyes. “But she still deserves to be punished.”

“But she has been,” Josie said, looking down unhappily at her empty plate. “She was going to tell your brother everything. To be honest, at any price. But he never gave her the chance. He deserted her without a word. And he left her to the wolves. Alone, and in charge of a twelve-year-old child.” She lifted her gaze. “My sister has been punished. Believe me.”

As he stared at her, his angry gaze slowly softened. “You alone are innocent in all this. I will bring her back to you. I swear it.”

She gave an awkward laugh. “Stop it, will you? Stop being so—”

“You’d better not say nice,” he threatened her.

She took a deep breath. “Just stop reminding me!”

“Of what?”

She spread her arms helplessly. “That you’re a handsome, charming prince, and I—” She stopped.

“And you what?”

She blurted out, “I’m a total idiot who can’t even remember to pack underwear!”

Oh, now she’d really done it. She wished she could clap a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. His eyes widened as he sucked in his breath.

“Are you telling me,” he said in a low voice, “that right now, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

Miserably, she shook her head, hating herself for blurting out every thought. Why, oh why, had she ever mentioned underwear? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

His blue eyes moved slowly over her curves in the tight white dress. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I see.” He turned away, his jaw clenched. “We’ll have to buy you some. After the wedding.”

His voice was ice-cold. She’d offended him, she thought sadly. She buttered a delicious crusty roll, then slowly ate it as she tried to think of a way to change the subject. “Your Highness…”

He snorted. “I thought you said it was a worthless title.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Since when?”

She tried to grin. “Since I’m about to be a princess?”

“Just call me by my first name.”

She hesitated… “Um, I’d rather not, actually. It just feels a little too personal right now. With you being so irritated…”

“I’m not irritated,” he bit out.

“Your Highness…”

“Kasimir,” he ordered.

She swallowed, looking away. But he waited. Taking a deep breath, she finally turned back to face him and whispered, “Kasimir.”

Just his name on her lips felt very erotic, the K hard against her teeth, the A parting her lips, the S vibrating, sibilant against her skin as the M-I-R ended on her lips like a kiss.

He looked at her in the Hawaiian sunlight.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Like that.”

She swallowed, feeling out of her depth, drowning. “I like your name,” she blurted out nervously. “It’s an old Slavic name, isn’t it? A warrior’s name. ‘Destroyer of the Peace.’“ She was chattering, something she often did when she was nervous. “Very different from the meaning of your brother’s…” Uh-oh. That topic wouldn’t end well. She closed her mouth with a snap. “Sorry,” she said weakly. “Never mind.”

“Fascinating.” His body was very still on the other side of the table, his voice cold again. “Go on. Tell me more.”

She shrugged. “I’ve worked as a housekeeper for hotels for years, since I turned eighteen, and I listen to audio books from the library while I clean. It’s amazing what you can learn,” she mumbled. She gave him a bright smile. “Like about… um… botany, for instance. Did you know that there are only three types of orchid native to Hawaii? Everyone always thinks tons of orchids grow here in the rain forest, while the truth is that another place I once lived, Nevada, which is nothing but dry desert, has twelve different wild orchids in two distinct varieties. There was this, um, flower that…”

But Kasimir hadn’t moved. He sat across from her beneath the hot Hawaiian sunshine, his arms folded as the water’s reflection from the pool left patterns of light on his black suit. “You were telling me about the meaning of my brother’s name.”

She gulped. There was no help for it. “Vladimir. Well. Some people think it means ‘He on the Side of Peace,’ but most of the etymology seems to indicate the root mir is older still, from the Gothic, meaning ‘Great in His Power.’ And Vladimir is…” She hesitated.

Kasimir’s eyes were hard now. She took a deep breath.

“‘The Master of All,’“ she whispered.

Hands clenched at his sides, Kasimir rose to his feet. Frightened by the fierce look in his eyes, she involuntarily shrank back in her chair. His hands abruptly relaxed.

“My brother is not all-powerful,” he said simply. “And he will know it. Very soon.”

“Wait.” As he started to turn away, she jumped to her feet, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid, always letting my mouth get ahead of my brain. My sister always says I need to be more careful.”

“I’m not offended.” Looking down at her, he gave her a smile that didn’t quite meet his blue eyes. “You shouldn’t listen to your sister. I respect a woman who speaks the truth without fear far more than one who uses silence to cover her lies.”

“But I told you—she’s not like that. Not anymore.” With a weak laugh, she looked away. “If she were, we’d be rich right now, instead of poor. But she gave up gambling and con games to give me an honest, respectable life. And just look at the trouble I’ve caused her.” She looked down at the floor. “I gambled at that poker game, and she had to sacrifice herself for me. Again.”

He touched her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Josie.” His eyes were deep and dark as a winter storm on a midnight sea. “The choice she made to sacrifice herself to my brother was not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Not my fault?” she repeated as, involuntarily, her eyes fell to his sensual lips. He seemed to lean towards her, and her own lips tingled, sizzling down her nerve endings with a strange, intense need. Somewhere in her rational mind, she heard a warning that she couldn’t quite hear; her brain had lost all power over her body. Her traitorous heart went thump, thump in her chest. Still staring at his cruelly sensual mouth, she whispered, “How can you say it’s not my fault?”

“Because I know your sister. And I know you.” Cupping her face, he tilted her head back. “And other than my mother, who died long ago, I think perhaps you are the only truly decent woman I’ve known. And not just decent,” he said softly. “But incredibly beautiful.”

Josie’s mouth fell open as she looked up. Her? Beautiful?

Was he—cripes—was it possible he was flirting with her?

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself savagely. He’s being courteous. Nothing more. She had no experience with men, but she did know one thing: a devastatingly handsome billionaire prince would have no reason to flirt with a girl like her. But still, she felt giddy as she looked up at him, mesmerized by his blue eyes, which seemed so warm now, warm as a June afternoon, warm as one of the brief summers of her childhood in Alaska.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that,” he said softly.

She swallowed, lifting her gaze to his. “Then don’t tell me I’m beautiful. It’s… it’s not something I’ve ever heard before.”

“Then all the other men in the world are fools.” His blue eyes burned through her. “Our marriage will be short, but for the brief time you are mine…” He put his hand over hers. “I am not going to stop telling you that you’re beautiful. Because it’s true.” His lips curved up at the corners as he said softly, “And didn’t I just say that one should always speak the truth?”

Stop, Josie ordered her trembling heart as she looked up at his handsome face. There would be no schoolgirl crushes on her soon-to-be husband! Absolutely none!

But it was too late. The deed was done.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?” she breathed.

He smiled, as if he could see the sudden brutal conquest of her innocent heart. “To marry me.”

“Oh. Right.” She bit her lip. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

Pulling her into the foyer, he took a bouquet of white flowers out of a waiting white box. He placed a bridal bouquet in her hand. “For you, my bride.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, fighting back tears as she pressed her face amid the sweetly scented flowers.

He scowled. “Don’t you dare tell me no man has ever given you flowers before.”

She hesitated. “Well…”

“You’re killing me,” he groaned. “The men you know must be idiots.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Well, I don’t really know any men. So it would be unreasonable to expect them to buy me flowers.”

“You don’t know any men?” He stared at her incredulously. “But you’re so friendly. So chatty.”

“I don’t talk to cute ones. I’m too nervous. Besides—” she gave her best attempt at a casual shrug “—Bree won’t let me date. She’s afraid I’ll get hurt.”

His lips parted. “You’ve never been on a date?”

She shook her head. “I did have a sort of boyfriend once,” she added hastily. “In high school. We met in chemistry class. He was… nice.”

“Nice,” he snorted. “With your rose-colored glasses, he probably had a mohawk, a spiked dog collar and a propensity for stealing,” he muttered.

“That’s not fair,” she protested. “After all, I think you’re nice. And you’re not a thief.”

Looking uncomfortable, Kasimir cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“We went out a few times for ice cream. Studied together at the library. Then he asked me to prom. I was so excited. Bree helped me fix up a thrift-shop dress, and I felt like Cinderella.” She stopped.

“What happened?” he asked, watching her.

She looked away. “He never showed up,” she whispered. “He took another girl instead, a girl he’d just met.” She lifted her gaze in a trembling smile. “But she put out. And I… didn’t.”

A low growl came from the back of Kasimir’s throat.

Clutching the bouquet of white flowers, Josie stared down at the pattern of the polished marble floor. “I just think kissing someone should be special. That you should only share yourself with someone you love.” She shuffled her pink flip-flops, echoing the sound across the high-ceilinged foyer. “I expect you think it’s stupid and old-fashioned.”

“No.” Kasimir’s voice was low. “I used to think the same.”

Her jaw dropped as she looked up. “What?”

He gave a humorless smile. “Funny story for you. I was a virgin until I was twenty-two.”

“You?” Josie breathed. The fact that he’d told her something so intimate caused a shock wave through her. “The international playboy?”

He snorted. “Everyone has a first experience. Mine was Nina. She worked at a PR firm in Moscow, and we hired her to help our new business. She was far older than me—thirty. We dated for a few months. After I lost my half of Xendzov Mining, I went back to Russia to see her. I was floundering. I had some half-baked idea that I’d ask her to marry me.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Instead, I found her in bed with a fat, elderly banker.”

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