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Dealing Her Final Card(50)

By:Jennie Lucas


Vladimir pressed his lips together. Bree saw him hesitate, then reluctantly say, “Apparently she was trying to get the police to take an interest in your case. But they laughed at her, both in Seattle and Honolulu.” He looked at Bree sideways. “They thought our wager sounded like a lovers’ game between consenting adults.”

“Right.” She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “So where is she now?”

He shook his head. “The trail went cold.”

Josie was missing? Bree opened her mouth, then stopped. Telling him her fears would do no good. She feared it would only set off another tirade from him about how Josie was a grown woman and that Bree should allow her sister to face her own consequences.

And for all she knew, he was right. For ten years, her fears had been on overdrive where Josie was concerned. How was Bree supposed to know when it was rational to worry and when it was not?

“We’ll find her.” Vladimir was watching her. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” she lied.

“Good.” Reaching into his pocket, he held out a flat, black velvet box. “This is for you.”

She flinched when she saw the jewelry box. He’d known she hated the diamond necklace, but he’d bought it anyway. The chain of her captivity.

“You went back and bought it,” she said dully.

He glanced at the blue silk ball gown draped across their bed. “It goes with your dress.”

Ice filled her heart, rushing through her like a frozen sea. In spite of all appearances to the contrary yesterday, he didn’t care about her feelings. He wanted to dress her to appear well. Like a show dog on display. “You are too kind.”

A smile curved his sensual mouth, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Open it.”

“You.”

“Don’t you want to see it?”

“No.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her hair. “Just do it,” she choked out.

Bree heard the box snap open. She felt the warmth of his body as he moved to stand behind her. She felt a heavy weight against the bare skin beneath her collarbone. It was surprisingly heavy. Frowning, she opened her eyes.

A simple gold chain hung around her neck, with an enormous green pendant wrapped in gold wire. Shocked, she touched the olive-green jewel, the size of a robin’s egg. “What’s this?”

“It’s a peridot,” he said quietly. “Carved from a meteorite that fell to Siberia in 1749. It once belonged to my great-grandmother.”

Bree’s mouth fell open. “Your—”

“The pendant was a wedding gift from my great-grandfather, before he sent her and their baby son into exile. To Alaska.”

Bree felt the roughness of the peridot beneath her fingertips. The sharp crystalline edges had been worn smooth by time.

“We sold this necklace to a collector, to help pay for college.” He ran a finger along the chain. “It took me years, and a large fortune, to get it back.” He put his hand over the stone, near her heart, and lifted his gaze. “And now it is yours.”

Bree gasped. Feeling the weight of the necklace and the warmth of his hand, she looked down at the stone. In the shadowy bedroom, the facets flashed fire, green like the heart’s blood of a dragon. “I...I can’t possibly keep this.”

“Too late.” Vladimir’s handsome face was expressionless.

“But it’s too valuable.” She swallowed as her fingers stroked the gold chain against her skin. Their hands touched, and she breathed, “Not just the worth of the stone, but the value to your family...”

Drawing back, he said harshly, “It is yours.” He turned away. “Finish getting ready. I will wait for you downstairs.”

She suddenly felt like crying. “Wait!”

He stopped, his back stiff, his hands clenched into fists.

“This should belong to someone you care about,” she whispered. “Someone...someone special.”

He didn’t turn around.

“You are special to me, Breanna,” he said in a low voice. “You always have been.”

She couldn’t just let him leave. Not when he’d proven to her, once and for all, that she was more than a paid concubine. As he headed for the door, she rushed across the room, catching him from behind. Wrapping her arms around his body, she pressed her cheek against his back. “Thank you.”

Slowly he turned around in her arms.

“I need you to know. You are more than just my possession.” His darkly handsome face was stark. Vulnerable. “You are...”

“What?” Her throat ached.

“My lover.”

Unable to speak, she nodded.

Wiping her cheek with his thumb, he said in a low voice, “Come. Get dressed. We don’t want to be late.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t want to miss kissing you at midnight.”