Dealing Her Final Card(17)

But now he’d teach proud, wicked Bree a lesson she’d never forget. He’d have her as his slave. Scrubbing his floors. And most of all, pleasuring him in bed. He looked at her, at the way her long blond hair glowed in the moonlight, at the fullness of her breasts trembling with each angry breath. Oh, yes.

“Your girlfriend is going to hate you for this,” she muttered.

In the distance, Vladimir could see the violet sky growing light pink over the vast dark Pacific. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She glared at him. “Yes, you do.”

“Wouldn’t I know?”

“What about the woman whose breasts were pressed against your back throughout the poker game?”

“Oh.” He tilted his head. “You mean Heather.”

“Right. Heather. Won’t she object to this little master-slave thing with me?”

He shrugged. “I met her at the pool a few days ago. She was perhaps amusing for a moment, but...”

“But now you’re done with her, so you’re heartlessly casting her aside.” Bree’s jaw set as she turned away. “Typical.”

“Do not worry. I have no intention of casting you aside,” he assured her.

“A famous playboy like you? You’ll tire of me in bed after the first night.”

He found the hope in her voice insulting. Women did not wish to be cast out of his bed. They begged to get in. Hiding his irritation, he gave her a sensual smile. “Do not fear. If that happens, I’ll find some other way for you to serve me. Scrubbing my floors. Cleaning my house...”

Her cheeks turned a girlish shade of pink, but her voice was steady as she said, “I’d rather clean your bathroom with my toothbrush than have you touch me.”

“Perhaps I’ll have you clean my house naked,” he mused.

“Sounds like heaven,” she muttered, tossing her head.

Driving along the edge of the coast, he stroked his chin with one hand. “Perhaps I’ll allow my men to enjoy the show.”

That finally got her. Bree’s eyes went wide as her lips parted. “You...” She swallowed, looking pale. “You wouldn’t.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Vladimir had no intention of sharing his hard-won prize—or even the image of her—with anyone. He wasn’t much of a sharer, in any case. A man was stronger alone. With no gaps in his armor. With no one close enough to slow him down, or stab him in the back.

Looking away from Bree’s pale, panicked face—somehow he didn’t enjoy seeing that expression there as much as he’d thought he would—he turned the Lamborghini into the road to his ultraprivate, palatial Hawaii mansion. The guard nodded at him from the guardhouse and opened the ten-foot-tall electric gate.

“Relax, Bree.” Vladimir ground out the words, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t intend to share you. You’re my prize and mine alone.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw her tight shoulders relax infinitesimally. This is supposed to be her punishment, he mocked himself. Why reassure her?

But frightening her wasn’t what he wanted, he decided. He had no interest in seeing her pitiful and terrified. He wanted to conquer the real Bree—proud and sly and gloriously beautiful. He didn’t want to be tempted, even once, to feel sympathy for her.

Vladimir stopped the red car in the paved courtyard in front of his enormous beachside mansion, built on the edge of a cliff, with one story on the courtyard side, and three stories facing the ocean.

“This is yours?” she breathed.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you had a place on Oahu.” She bit her lip, looking up at the house. “If I’d known you were here...”

“You wouldn’t have come to Honolulu to try your con?”

“Con?” She looked genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you call that poker game?”

Her big hazel eyes were wide and luminous in the moonlight.

“The worst mistake of my life,” she whispered.

Her heart-shaped face was pale, her pink lips full, her expression agonized. In spite of her tough-girl clothes, the black leather jacket and stiletto boots, she looked like a young, lost princess, trapped by an ogre with no hope of escape.

A trick, he told himself angrily. Don’t fall for it. He turned off the ignition. Grabbing her duffel bag, he got out of the car. “Come on.”

Closing the door behind him, he stalked toward the front door without looking back. He’d bought this twenty-million-dollar house three months ago, sight unseen, an hour before he was released from the hospital in Honolulu. The lavish estate on the windward side of the Oahu shore was set on the best private beach near Kailua.