A Reputation For Revenge(10)

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.#p#分页标题#e#

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.