Dealing Her Final Card(54)

“Vladimir cares for me,” she whispered.

“Because he gave you my great-grandmother’s necklace?” His brother lifted a dark eyebrow. “He sold that once, you know. And he will sell you, if it ever gives him any advantage.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Try him and see,” Kasimir suggested silkily. “Go to him. Explain how Josie agreed to marry me and give me every acre of the land. He will say her predicament is her own fault, for being foolish enough to seek me as her ally. Vladimir is not a man who excuses mistakes. He punishes them.” His brother narrowed his eyes. “He will not lift a finger to save her.”

Bree trembled in her blue silk ball gown. Was it true?

Vladimir had cut Kasimir out of his life completely, cheating him out of hundreds of millions of dollars, just because of a few angry, drunken words to a reporter. He’d forced Bree to live as his mistress even when she’d begged him for her freedom—all because of a one-card wager. “You made the bet,” he’d said. “Now you will honor it.” Thinking of how he’d just abandoned her on the dance floor when she’d told him something he apparently didn’t want to hear—that she loved him—Bree’s heart lifted to her throat.

Would he treat Josie any more mercifully?

“She will never grow up,” she remembered his hard voice saying. “She will always be helpless and weak, unless you allow her to face the consequences of her own actions.”

“What do you want me to do?” she whispered.

Kasimir’s eyes glittered. “You will help take back what should have been mine.” Pulling an envelope from his pocket, he handed it to her. “Make him sign this.”

“What is it?”

“A deed that transfers control of his company to me.”

Bree stared down at the paper. “I hereby renounce all shares in Xendzov Mining OAO,” it read, “giving them freely and in perpetuity to my brother....”

She looked up, openmouthed. “He will never sign it.”

“You are a clever girl, with a flair for trickery and deceit.” Kasimir tilted his head. “For your sister’s sake, you will make him sign. Even if it causes you a small twinge of grief.” He walked slowly around her. “Your lies caused me a great deal of grief ten years ago. I am glad to finally see you and my brother suffer—together. I could not have it planned better.”

Bree’s heart gave a sickening thud.

“It was you,” she breathed. “You’re the one who arranged for us to be taken to Hawaii. You’re the one who bribed Greg Hudson to hire us.”

Kasimir smiled. “My brother was stuck there, bored out of his mind, attending the same poker game each week. I knew he had a weakness for you. I hoped seeing you would cause him pain.” Kasimir snorted. “Instead, you created an opportunity for justice I never could have imagined. You insinuated yourself into his life. Like a disease.”

“Even if his signature is obtained through trickery,” she said desperately, “it will never stand up in court.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” he said coolly. “Bring the signed document to my house in Marrakech within three days.”

“And if I fail?”

He looked straight into her eyes, like an enemy looking over the barrel of a gun. “Then you’ll never see your sister again. She’ll disappear into the Sahara. And be mine. Forever.”

Bree shook her head with a weak laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I am a madman. Ask my brother. He knows.” Kasimir looked at her blue silk ball gown. “Your sister was frantic about you. She came to me, begging for help. She was willing to do anything to save you, even sacrifice her own soul.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “And for the last two hours I’ve watched you, drinking champagne, dancing in his arms, giggling like a whore.” She flinched as he growled, “So much for Josie’s sacrifice.”

Bree sucked in her breath, lifting her gaze. “You like her, don’t you?” she said slowly. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice. You don’t want to hurt her.”

Kasimir glared at her, gritting his teeth. “What I want is revenge. And I will have it.” Turning away, he said over his shoulder coldly, “You have three days.”





CHAPTER NINE



WITH a low curse, Vladimir shoved the short fat man out of the palace, into the dark, deserted garden.

“What the hell are you doing in St. Petersburg?” he demanded.

“I’m allowed to visit here, if I want. You don’t own this city, Xendzov,” Greg Hudson brayed in response, shivering in his badly fitting tuxedo. “It doesn’t belong to you!”