“You have no choice.”
He reached for her hand, but she ripped it away. “Don’t touch me!”
Vladimir narrowed his eyes. “I was merely trying to be courteous. Clearly a waste.” He thrust his thumb toward the door of the bright red Lamborghini. “Get in.”
Opening the door, Bree climbed inside the car and took a deep breath of the soft leather seats’ scent. Fast cars had once been her father’s favorite indulgence, back when they’d been conning rich criminals across the West, and Black Jack had been spending money even faster than they made it. By the time her father died of lung cancer, only debts were left. But the smell of the car reminded her of the time when her father had been her hero and their mattresses had been stuffed with money—literally. Unwillingly, Bree ran her hand over the smooth leather.
“Nice car,” she said grudgingly.
With a sudden low laugh, Vladimir started the engine. “It gets me where I need to go.”
At the sound of that laugh, she sucked in her breath.
His laugh…
She’d first heard it at a party in Anchorage, when Vladimir Xendzov was just a mark, half owner of a fledgling mining company, who had come to Alaska looking to buy the land her father had left in an ironclad trust for Josie, then just twelve years old. Bree had been hoping she could distract Vladimir from the legal facts long enough to disappear with his money. Instead, when their eyes met across the room, she’d been electrified. He’d grabbed an extra flute of champagne and come toward her.
“I know who you are,” he’d said.
She’d hid the nervous flutter in her belly. “You do?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “The woman who’s coming home with me tonight.”
For an instant, she’d caught her breath. Then she’d laughed in his face. “Does that line usually work?”
He’d looked surprised, then he’d joined her laughter with his own low baritone. “Yes,” he’d said almost sheepishly. “In fact, it always does.” He’d held out his hand with a grin. “Let’s try this again. I’m Vladimir.”
Now, as his eyes met hers, his expression was like stone. He yanked hard on the wheel of the Lamborghini, pulling the car away from the curb with a squeal of tires. Bree glanced behind them, and saw her sister’s SUV was indeed following them. She exhaled.
She had to think of a way to get out of this prison sentence. She looked at the passing lights of Honolulu. The city sparkled, even in the dead of night.
Deals can always be made. Her father’s words came back to her. Just figure out what a man wants most. And find a way to give it to him—or make him think you will.
But what could a man like Vladimir possibly want, that he didn’t already have?
He was frequently in the business news—and nearly as often in the tabloids. He was the sole owner of Xendzov Mining OAO, with operations on six continents. His company was one of the leading producers of gold, platinum and diamonds around the world. He was famous for his workaholic ways, for his lavish lifestyle, and most of all for the ruthless way he crushed his competition—most spectacularly his own brother, who’d once been part-owner of the company before Vladimir had forced him out, the same day he’d abandoned Bree in Alaska. For ten years, the two brothers’ brutal, internecine battles had caused them both to lose millions of dollars, tarnishing both their reputations.
Ala Moana Boulevard was deserted as they drove away from Waikiki, heading toward downtown. Along the wide dark beach across the street, palm trees stretched up into the violet sky. They passed Ala Moana Center, which was filled with shops such as Prada, Fendi and Louis Vuitton—brands that Bree had once worn as a teenage poker player, but which as a hotel housekeeper she couldn’t remotely afford. Vladimir could probably buy out the entire mall without flinching, she thought. Just as he’d bought her.
Bree rolled down her window to breathe the warm night air. “So tell me,” she said casually. “What brings you to Honolulu?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Play whatever angle you’re hoping to use against me.”
“I wasn’t…”
“I can hear the purr in your voice.” His voice was sardonic. “It’s the same one you used at the poker table, whipping the male players into a frenzy by offering your body as the prize.”
Anger rushed through her, but she took a deep breath. He was right—that wasn’t exactly her proudest moment. She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “I was desperate. I had nothing else to offer.”
“You weren’t desperate when you played that last card against me. Your sister’s debt was already paid. You could have walked away.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “You don’t understand. We are in debt—”
“Fascinating.” His voice dripped sarcasm.