Brides For Billionaires. Lynne Graham
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Kat could not believe her ears, could not credit that he could offer her the equivalent of a luxury holiday with a big bonus at the end and not demand the assurance of sex in return. She had always assumed that all men wanted sex any way they could get it, but he appeared to be telling her that, if she didn’t want to sleep with him, it wouldn’t be a deal breaker. ‘Why would you make me such an offer?’ she pressed.
‘If I insisted on including sex in our agreement, it would be sleazy,’ he pointed out levelly, loving the way she was still challenging him with her suspicions rather than avidly snatching at his very generous proposition. ‘I don’t treat women like that.’
‘I could do the companionship thing but I would never agree to sleep with you as part of the arrangement,’ Kat warned him shakily, her colour high, her level of discomfiture intense. ‘I mean that. I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings on that score.’
Mikhail said nothing because he could see no advantage to arguing with her. But when all was said and done, the same desire that burned in him burned in her as well. She would sleep with him, of course she would, she wouldn’t be able to help herself when they were together for hours on end. He was absolutely convinced that no matter what she said she would end up with her glorious long legs pinned round his waist, welcoming him into her lithe body. When, after all, had a woman ever said no to him? Kat had taken fright when he had first approached her in her home, that was all, he reflected wryly, reckoning that he had been too spontaneous and aggressive with her. She would want him to make a fuss of her first and if that was what it would take to win her surrender he was, for once, willing to go that extra mile. The background check he had had done on her had made it clear that it was a long time since she had had a man in her life. Naturally she would have reservations and insecurities. He could even understand that she might be a little shy, but ultimately he believed that she would satisfy his driving need to possess her. Women were invariably flattered rather than repelled by the strength of a man’s desire.
The gorgeous blonde who had escorted Kat into Mikhail’s office also delivered the coffee, her bright blue eyes skimming left and right with keen curiosity as she picked up on the tension in the room. Stiff with self-consciousness and with her own gaze carefully veiled, Kat lifted the cup and saucer and struggled to sip hot coffee with her throat muscles so tense that she could barely swallow. Intelligence and growing caution warned her not to betray weakness in Mikhail’s radius. He would use it against her: he was a ruthless man. In her ignorance weeks earlier, she had had no idea of the extent of Mikhail’s power and influence and even less grasp of his inflexible drive. Her rejection had clearly challenged him and dented his pride. What else was she to think? Why else would he have come after her? And he had, without a doubt, come after her all guns blazing, Kat conceded in a daze, still stunned that he had gone to such lengths to exert his dominance over her. Yet he had done so. Having identified her financial vulnerability, he had employed it as a means of bringing her to heel. He owned everything that mattered to her lock, stock and barrel and there was nothing she could do about that.
Well, option one was to walk away, acknowledging that losing her home had been on the cards anyway, Kat reasoned feverishly. That would create a stalemate that would certainly surprise and disappoint Mikhail, but ultimately it would gain Kat nothing. Yet what was the alternative? She had not the slightest desire to play the victim and whinge about his callous blackmailing tactics. On the other hand, Kat thought on a sudden strong surge of adrenalin, if she had the gumption to fight Mikhail on his own playing field and win she would have her home as a prize at the end of it all. And wasn’t a secure base what she really needed, especially now with Emmie pregnant and both of them currently unemployed? Birkside meant so much more to Kat than mere bricks and mortar. It was in every sense the only home she had ever had and very much at the heart of the family she had created with her sisters. How could they still be a family if she no longer had a home her sisters could visit in times of need?
Mikhail was engaged in a dangerous game of one-upmanship, Kat mused thoughtfully, studying his stunning dark features with innate suspicion from below her lashes, for she recognised that he was a clever, sharp-as-tacks operator. He said he didn’t expect sex as part of his arrangement but while Kat might be sexually untried she was no fool. She had read all about Mikhail and his ever-changing harem of readily available women on the Internet. This was a guy who didn’t do relationships, he only did sex. Mikhail was accustomed to easy conquests seduced by his spectacular dark good looks, incredible wealth and dominant personality. Without a doubt, he was assuming that Kat would be just the same as her predecessors and that secluded with him on his yacht she would ultimately succumb to his undeniable sexual charisma. But in that assessment he was wrong, very wrong. Kat, dragged up by a mother who was a pushover for every wealthy man who looked her way, had formed her own very effective defences. She had learnt at too young an age that the average man would promise a woman the moon if he wanted her in his bed badly enough. Time and time again Odette had fallen for such promises only to be betrayed once the man involved gained the intimacy that he craved. For that reason, trusting men had never come naturally to Kat, which was why she was still a virgin at thirty-five. She had always wanted commitment before she put her body on the line. Steven had talked the talk but hadn’t stuck around long enough to prove that he could walk the walk as well.
‘Share your thoughts with me,’ Mikhail urged in the charged silence.
He was a class act, Kat conceded with bitter amusement, stealing a glance at his riveting, darkly beautiful face, lingering on the glittering eyes that added threat and vitality to those lean tough features. Her biggest mistake would be to forget that they were essentially enemies, set as they both were on opposing goals. For one of them to win, the other had to lose and she doubted that Mikhail had much experience of being in the loser’s corner or that he would be gracious in defeat. She tilted her chin with determination and said quietly, ‘If I was to seriously consider your proposition, I would first need legal guarantees.’
Surprise momentarily assailed Mikhail, who had not anticipated such a cool, rational response from her. ‘Guarantees with regard to what?’ he queried with complete calm, once again relishing the fact that she could still have the power to disconcert him.
‘Primarily a guarantee that regardless of what does or doesn’t happen on that yacht of yours, if I put in the required time with you, I still get the house back,’ Kat proposed dry-mouthed, knowing that that was the most crucial safeguard she required.
‘Of course,’ Mikhail conceded, affronted by her terminology, his sculpted jaw line clenching with all-male disdain. He had offered her a month of unimaginable luxury on his yacht, The Hawk, an invitation that countless women would kill to receive, and she talked about ‘putting in her time’ with him as though she were referring to a prison stretch? Even worse, she was questioning his word of honour. ‘But I too would expect guarantees …’
Kat dragged in a sustaining breath, almost mesmerised by the intensity of his scrutiny and the slow heavy thud of her heartbeat. Her mouth ran dry, a flock of nervous butterflies unleashing in her tummy and clenching the muscles in her pelvis tight. ‘Of what kind?’
‘That you would fulfil the role of hostess and companion as directed by me,’ Mikhail extended coolly, the beginnings of a smile of satisfaction starting to curl the corners of his expressive mouth. ‘I didn’t think you would agree to this so easily—’
‘Only a fool would look a gift horse in the mouth!’ Kat quipped in protest, colour firing her cheeks at the calculating mercenary role she was forcing herself to play, not only to protect herself, but also to grab at the chance to get her much-loved home back. ‘You’re offering me a month of work to regain ownership of my home. From any angle, that’s a golden opportunity for me.’
It was the truth and yet making such a declaration,