Win

Katarina looks back at me in complete confusion.

My body tightens as her eyes lock with mine. Ryker neglected to mention Katarina’s beauty. She’s flawless.

He must not have a thing for models, because Katarina could be one. Slender body, perfect features, a curtain of shiny dark brown hair.

Her full mouth turns down, her brow furrowing as she considers my words. Her eyes graze down my face and then back up to my eyes. “What does that mean?”

I’m a hard man. Being the oldest, taking on a bankrupt dukedom, babysitting my errant brothers, being the break wall for an abusive father, it’s made me tougher than most. And that was before I lost Rebecca.

But the way Katarina’s eyes hold mine, I already know, she’s hard too. “I’d really like to know. What score do you have to settle?”

In good time, my pretty. “There is another more pertinent question you ought to ask.”

“What’s that?” Her forehead creases, her look of consternation doing little to make her less attractive.

“Where we are going after the plane lands.”

Her eyes go wide, the slightest bit of fear coloring them. “Where?”

“Grandmont Estate. Where, for the time being, you will remain my guest.”

“Your guest?” she asks, the slightest hitch in her breath.

I see understanding dawn in her eyes. Will she be disappointed? Most definitely. But for me, her feelings are irrelevant. “That’s right. You’ll find Grandmont quite comfortable, I assure you.”

I watch as her anger rises like the tide, flashing in her eyes and flushing her skin. She’s even more beautiful like this, her cheeks turning the most gorgeous shade of pale pink. “Guest? You mean prisoner.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She’s exactly right. She will be kept in my home, guards ensuring that she does not escape.

Because I meant what I said. I have a score to settle, a vendetta to pay, and Katarina…she will be my bait.

The fish I’m trying to catch?

Her father. Ivan Ivanov. Head of the largest Bratva family in Russia and a soulless beast who absolutely and completely deserves the punishment I am about to deal to him. I’ve waited for years for an opportunity like the one that’s just been delivered to me.

Ryker made me promise that I’d keep Katarina safe as I hunted her father. Apparently, he feels some responsibility toward her because they were to be married.

Or perhaps, he just wants to keep good relations between himself and Katarina’s brother, Dimitri Ivanov, the heir apparent when Dimitri’s father falls.

I like Dimitri as well. He’s a good man with an excellent business sense. We’ve talked enough for me to know there is no love between Dimitri and his father, Ivan.

And while I agree that it would be better for everyone if Katarina is returned to her brother, I make no promises.

It’s a dangerous game we’re playing. And Katarina is my pawn. Nothing more.

So while I assured Ryker that I’d care for Katarina, I also understand my priorities.

If her own father kills her in the crossfire, I can’t control that.

“How many guards will be assigned to my…care?” she asks, her lip curls around the word care.

I admire her pluck and her intelligence.

“Footmen are part of life at Grandmont. As are gate guards and a security team.”

Her brows notch up. “And how much security have you added in preparation for my visit as your…guest?”

I barely keep from smiling.

Odd, because I rarely smile. Most people aren’t funny, just annoying. Not that Katarina was attempting to be funny. But her apparent acceptance, which only thinly veils her assured knowledge that I’m full of shit, actually tickles me.

Katarina knows how to talk to men.

It isn’t that she’s manly. A man would call my bluff, bluster, likely swing at my face.

Katarina sits there, her eyes narrowed, her body relaxed as she waits for me to answer. “Naturally, I have increased security. My brother has alerted me of your…situation.”

She lets out a slow breath, her head cocking to the side as she considers how next to probe.

I would normally stop a conversation as long as this one. Especially when I have information that I don’t wish to share.

But I find myself curious as to what she might say next. I lean forward in my chair, impatient to know.

“Yes. How surprising.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “A jail that’s built to keep others out, not to keep the prisoners in.”

One corner of my mouth tips up. I can’t help it. “For their protection.”

“What would protect me is if you’d let me go. Disappear.” Her brows notch up. “But we both know you’re not going to do that. Because, for whatever score you’re settling, you need me. And if you need me, I can only assume that my father is involved.”

I sit back in the chair, impressed. Sexy and smart. Noted. “You will be far safer in my care than alone. I can assure you of that.”

She makes a pishing noise. “Do I look like a damsel in distress?”

She looks like the sort of woman I’d like to fuck against a full-length mirror. “I did just rescue you from out under a bed.”

She mutters something in Russian that I’m certain is a curse word. Did she call me an asshole? Likely worse.

I add her spewing Russian to my mirror-fucking fantasy, the swell of need that rises in me is like a tsunami. I’m a man of iron control, so the wave of desire catches me off guard.

It takes all my discipline, but I take all those feelings and I lock them away. They are a distraction I can’t afford.

She’s just a tool. An important piece in a plan that is years in the making. I will not fuck it up by fucking her.

But also, and of less importance, I’m currently in the market for a wife.

Katarina falling into my clutches at this exact moment is less than ideal. But with the dukedom secured, and my fortieth birthday approaching, I decided it was time to secure the bloodline.

My last visit to the doctor revealed that my sperm count is dropping with age. It wasn’t information I found pleasant.

And then, at Easter, my mother pointed out that I was welcome to allow my second brother Triston to make the heir that will ascend to the position of the seventh Duke of Grandmont.

I know my mother. She’s strategic, she was playing me. That doesn’t make her wrong.

Triston is an excellent CEO, but he doesn’t feel the same attachment to the dukedom. And he’s going to raise a kid that’s going to be an…American.

I don’t have anything against the population in general. Industrious, hard-working, straightforward. But a duke should have English values.

Which was why I decided it was time to find a wife.

I’ve hired a consultant to plan several events meant to help me vet candidates. I understand that I’m going about finding a wife the way some men might hire an assistant, but I see marriage as nothing more than a business arrangement.

A means to an end.

And any woman who chooses to take the position of duchess will be well compensated. Thanks to our American holdings, the dukedom is now one of the wealthiest in the country, and by extension, the world. Power, influence, prestige is the offer I make.

Feelings, even lust, are not part of the bargain.

Katarina has fallen silent, her neck turning so that she’s looking out the window. Below I see the twinkling lights of London.

It’s midnight here, the car picking us up at the airport will take us the hour-long drive to Grandmont.

The dim lights of the plane cabin reflect off her profile, light sparkling on her long dark lashes as she dips her chin and rests it on the back of her hand.

She’s only in leggings and a tank top, but her beauty is effortless, every line arrayed in flattering angles.

I let the silence settle, but I don’t go back to my computer.

Instead, I watch her, her hardness falling away, as her mouth parts and her features soften, a wistful expression settling over them.

Is she dreaming of her escape?

Whatever her thoughts, she’s beautiful like this.

I asked Ryker why he wished to marry Sasha instead of Katarina. He shook his head. “Sasha has a much gentler nature. She’ll be much easier.”

He must never have seen Katarina like this.

“Your Grace.” Andrew steps from the cabin built for staff, into the main cabin where we’re seated. “We’ve been cleared for landing. Touchdown in fifteen minutes.”

I give a single jerk of my chin as Katarina lifts her head, the softness disappearing from her face.

I close my laptop and place it back in my bag.

Then I put my seatbelt on. Katarina has remained silent but as the plane begins to descend, she clears her throat, her gaze fixing on me again. “Might I ask one more question?”

I look over at her, a single brow cocking. “You may ask as many as you like.”

Her mouth curves into a smile. She knows what I didn’t add. “But will you answer?”

“Try.” I find I’m curious.

“The debt you want my father to pay…the score you wish to settle. Is the price his life?”

My mouth opens and then closes again. I frequently choose not to answer questions, but I’m rarely stumped as to how to answer.

In this moment, however, I genuinely cannot decide what to say. Do I tell her I intend to kill her father?

And not just him.

His hitman, Sver, the man who pulled the trigger and changed my fate, his death warrant has been signed as well.

“Because if that’s your plan, you don’t need to keep me prisoner. I’ll willingly stay and help you.”

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