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Dealing Her Final Card (Princes Untamed 1)

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All night Bree had stared up at the bedroom ceiling in the dark gray light, going through countless scenarios in her mind. It could have been one of her father’s old enemies. Or…it could have been Vladimir himself. To make her his prisoner forever, to enjoy at his will.

I’ve never forgotten you, Breanna. Or stopped wanting you.

She sighed. But that didn’t make sense, either. He’d been surprised to see her. She’d seen it in his face, in his body. He’d had no idea she was in Hawaii.

So who?

Vladimir had been an extraordinarily tender lover last night, but even as he’d made her body shake and gasp with pleasure, her soul had been haunted by the question. Finally, at breakfast that morning, before he’d left for work, he’d stated, “I’m sorry you were insulted last night. It will never happen again.”

“Thank you,” she’d murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. There was no way he could prevent that. If she wasn’t i

nsulted to her face, she’d still be able to see it in people’s eyes.

She was his possession. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now, staring out at the dark, wintry night, Bree felt an ache in her throat. She finished pulling on her stockings, attaching them to her garter belt. If only she had someone to talk to about this. If only she could talk to Josie…

Vladimir’s voice was husky behind her. “Are you ready?”

With an intake of breath, Bree turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, half in silhouette. He looked broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome in a dark, exquisitely cut tuxedo. She tried not to notice. “Have you found Josie?”

“Josie?” he repeated absently. He came toward her, his blue eyes gleaming as they traced slowly down her nearly naked body in the black lace. “Forget the ball. Let’s stay home for New Year’s Eve.”

She felt his gaze against her skin the same as if he’d stroked her with his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she trembled with desire and something more—something that went straight to her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself. “My sister. Have you found her yet?”

He blinked, then his eyes lifted to hers. “Not yet. My investigator did trace her back to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii!” Something was wrong. Bree could feel it. “Why would she go back?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps she forgot something at your old apartment.”

“Spending every penny she owns, just to go back for some old sweater or something?”

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.”



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