“You can’t just buy her!” her ex-boss brayed.
“That’s up to Miss Dalton,” Vladimir said. He turned his laserlike gaze on Bree. “So?”
Though there were ten other people in the room, it was so quiet she could have heard a pin drop. All eyes were on her.
A million dollars. The choice she made in this moment would determine the rest of her life—and Josie’s. They could pay off their father’s old debts to unsavory men, the ones that had kept them in virtual hiding for the past ten years. Josie would be free to go to college—any college she wanted. And Bree could start her own little B and B by the sea.
They’d no longer have to hide or be afraid.
They’d be free.
“What is the game?” she said weakly. “Poker?”
“Let’s keep it easy. Leave it to fate. One card.”
Her eyes widened. “One...”
His gorgeous face and chilly blue eyes revealed nothing as his sensual lips curved. “Are you feeling lucky, Miss Dalton?”
Was she feeling lucky?
Taking a million dollars from Vladimir would be more than sweet revenge. It would be justice for how he’d coldly abandoned her when she’d needed him most. He’d destroyed ten years of her life. She could take this one thing from him. A new life for her and Josie.
But risk being Vladimir’s slave—forever? The thought made her body turn to ice. It was too much to risk on a random card from the deck.
Unless...it wasn’t so random.
She looked sideways beneath her lashes at Chris, the dealer. He lowered his head, his expression serious. Was that a nod? Did she have a sympathetic ally? She closed her eyes.
How much was she willing to risk on a single card?
Are you feeling lucky, Miss Dalton?
Bree exhaled. She’d just won a hundred thousand dollars in a single game. She slowly opened her eyes. So, yes, she felt lucky. She sat back down at the table.
“I accept your terms,” she stated emphatically.
Vladimir’s smile widened. “So to be clear. If my card is higher, you’ll belong to me, obeying my every whim, for as long as I desire.”
“Yes,” she said, glancing again at Chris. “And if mine is higher, you will give me every chip on that table.”
“Agreed.” Vladimir lifted a dark eyebrow. “Ace card high?”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other, and Bree again forgot there was anyone else in the room. Until someone coughed behind her, and she jumped, realizing she’d been holding her breath.
Vladimir turned to the dealer. “Shuffle the deck.”
Bree put the chips she’d won in the last game into a little pile and pushed them aside. “I will select my own card.”
Her opponent looked amused. “I would expect no less.”
They both turned to Chris, who visibly gulped. Shuffling carefully, with all eyes upon him, he fanned out the facedown cards. He turned them toward Bree, who made her selection, then toward Vladimir, who did the same.
Holding her breath, Bree slowly turned her card over.
The king of hearts.
She’d drawn the king of hearts! She’d won!
She gasped aloud, no longer able to control her emotions. Flipping her card onto the table to reveal the suit, she covered her face with her palms and sobbed with joy. After ten years, fate had brought the untouchable Vladimir Xendzov into her hands, to give her justice at last. Parting her hands, she lifted her gaze, waiting for the sweetness of the moment when he turned over his own losing card, and his face fell as he realized he’d lost and she’d won.
Vladimir looked down at his card. For an instant, his hard expression didn’t change.
Then he looked up at her and smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes.
It was an ice pick through her heart.
“Sorry, Bree,” he said casually, and tossed his card onto the table.
She stared down at the ace of diamonds.
Her mind went blank. Then a tremble went through her, starting at her toes and moving up her body as she looked at Vladimir, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. She dimly heard Greg Hudson’s annoyed curse and the other men’s cheers, heard the women’s snide laughter—except for the woman directly behind Vladimir, who seemed to be crying.
“You—you’ve...” Bree couldn’t speak the words.
“I’ve won.” Vladimir looked at her, his blue eyes electric with dislike. He rose from his chair, all six feet four inches of him, and said coldly, “You have ten minutes to pack. I will collect my winnings in the lobby.” As she gaped at him, he walked around the table to stand over her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. He leaned nearer, his face inches from hers.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said softly. “But now, at last, Bree Dalton—” his lips slid into a hard, sensual smile “—you are mine.”