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Bought for Her Innocence

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“How, except that I owe you money that I could never repay?”

“Five years ago, when Andrew died, I should have dragged you out of that hellhole. I didn’t, and that decision has cost me a hundred thousand pounds and an ever-increasing amount of havoc on my life. Until I ensure you won’t end up on the streets again, you’ll stay with me.”

Oh, how she wanted to smack the arrogance off his face, but he was right. She had nowhere to go. So she followed him up the stairs and into the...most luxuriously chic aircraft she had ever seen.

Hanging on to her foolish pride because really, no one could expect her to get used to this kind of wealth when she had lived hand to mouth all her life, she tried very hard to act as if she traveled in first-class luxury with a textile tycoon every other day.

If the outside of the Learjet was all sleek lines and thrumming power, the inside was world-class spacious luxury she had only ever seen in glossy magazines. Power seats in cream leather so soft that she was scared of scratching it sat in two different clusters with legroom enough to accommodate a giraffe. Or her.

Two flat-screen monitors whirred out of the ceiling as she watched while the flight attendant rattled off a wine selection, half of which she had never even heard of. Sparkling water was all she had ever allowed herself, before, during or after work, resolved to never blunt her senses in any way.

“Just water for me, thanks,” she finally said, just to stop the woman from figuring out she wasn’t Dmitri’s usual caliber guest.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, she felt ashamed of herself. That she wasn’t sophisticated or educated had never bothered her before.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they settled down.

“We’re not returning. Not unless my business dictates it. You’ll travel with me until I...until you get back on your feet. But not in London, not when you’ll only be tempted to go back to that life.”

Her mum hadn’t cared about Andrew or her for as long as she could remember. Only about her broken dreams and drowning them in alcohol...

Even Andrew’s legacy for her had been crushing debt, debt that had turned her life in a direction she had never wanted it to take.

“There’s something to be said for a clean break, Jas. Believe me.”

Jasmine exhaled roughly, realizing he was right. “Can you please have someone check in on my mum once in a while?”

“Already taken care of.”

Her nerves jangled with excitement and fear and so many more feelings she couldn’t name. But at least there was no regret for the life she was leaving behind.

CHAPTER SIX

DMITRI HAD NEVER considered the private jet owned by Katrakis Textiles small by any standard before tonight. It was not his favorite, as anything—bike, car or flight—that boasted size over speed wasn’t.

But the spacious front cabin with a king-size bed in the rear had served him well on his cross-Atlantic trips, especially when he was traveling on business with a team in tow.

The constantly fidgeting woman sitting across from him, however, made him reconsider this view.

She was making him reconsider too many decidedly sure things he had designed for his life, things that gave him shallow and transient pleasure at the least, things he had become used to...

Theos, he had looked forward to that bachelor party for months.

But the weekend in Monaco had turned out to be torturously boring for him, his mind pushing the picture of Jasmine sleeping so peacefully in his bedroom, to the fore.

There was something utterly satisfying about keeping her safe. And after his failure to save his mother, he didn’t misunderstand where the feeling came from, either. But even then...

The sight of a woman had never transfixed him like that.

Like a treasure that called to seamen, luring them, her stunning face had come to him in the strangest of moments, stealing away whatever satisfaction the moment would have presented.

So here he was, his usually uncaring mood roused to a temper, his libido unsatisfied, while the confounding woman’s presence in his life spread as if it was a stubborn virus.

The picture she presented, everything covered up from top to bottom, shouldn’t have snagged his attention at all.

Her jeans, while obviously worn out and of cheap quality, were snug and tight, encasing her long, long legs like a glove.

He had received an eyeful of her mouthwateringly pert bottom while she had knelt in the seat and tugged viciously at the poor, unsuspecting seat belt, not realizing that all she had to do was to click on the latch for it to pull.



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