before either. To stand up against this powerful man—a man capable of destroying her father; of destroying her too—and know she was winning... It was a heady feeling.
From despair and anger at getting caught and failing her father, she’d found a way to salvage the situation.
‘I can have you arrested for this,’ Pascha said, his voice low and menacing.
‘Try it.’ She allowed herself a smile. ‘I’ll be entitled to a phone call. I think I’ll use it to contact the firm Shirokov—is that how you pronounce it?—and see if they’d be interested in representing me.’
How Pascha stopped his tongue rolling out the volley of expletives it wanted to say, he did not know.
Shirokov was the firm representing Marat Plushenko in the buy-out.
She dared to think she could threaten and blackmail him? This little pixie with a tongue as curling as her hair dared to think she could take him on and win?
He’d spent two years trying to make this deal happen, had even bought Bamber Cosmetics a few months ago as a decoy to avert any suspicion.
And now Emily Richardson had the power to blow it all to hell.
If Marat Plushenko heard so much as a whisper that Pascha was the face behind RG Holdings, he would abandon the deal without a backward glance and Plushenko’s, the business the late, great Andrei Plushenko had built from nothing, would be ground to dust. His legacy would be gone.
And so would Pascha’s last chance at redemption.
Could he trust her? That was the question.
He had no doubt her actions in stealing his files had been driven by exactly what she claimed—to prove her father’s innocence. He almost admired her for it.
But beneath the collected exterior lurked a wildness. It echoed in the flickers of light emitting from her dark eyes. He could feel it.
This was a woman on the edge.
That, in itself, answered his question.
No, he could not trust her.
In exactly one week, the Plushenko deal would be finalised, the contracts signed. Seven whole days in which he would be wondering and worrying if she really was capable of keeping her mouth shut, if something innocuous could set her off to make a phone call to Marat’s lawyer.
Beneath Emily’s bohemian exterior, which even the plain suit she wore couldn’t hide, lurked a sharp, inquisitive mind. A sharp mind on the edge could be a lethal combination.
An old English phrase came to mind: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
This deal was everything. It had to happen.
It had been eight years since he’d walked out on his family. It was too late to make amends with the man who’d raised him as his own, but he could restore his legacy and, maybe then, finally, his mother would forgive him.
And for that reason he needed to make Emily disappear...
EMILY DID NOT LIKE the thoughtful way Pascha appraised her, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, his long legs stretched out beneath his desk, ankles crossed, handmade brogues gleaming.
She’d never seen such stillness. It was unnerving. Almost as unnerving as her attempt to blackmail him. But then, she’d never thought she would break into an office with the sole intention of stealing data from a billionaire’s laptop.
After what felt like an age, where Emily’s skin became tense enough to snap, Pascha leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and draw his fingers together.
‘So, Miss Richardson, you think you can blackmail me to get what you want? I will not be threatened and I will not have the deal I’ve spent two years working on be destroyed.’ The grey in his eyes glittered with loathing. ‘I will not capitulate to your demands. No. You, Miss Richardson, are going to disappear.’
That made her sit up straight. She shook her head, as if unsure she’d heard him correctly. ‘What? You’re going to make me disappear?’
‘Not in the sense you’re thinking,’ he said shortly, aggrieved to see her face had turned white. What kind of a man did she think he was? ‘I can’t take the risk of you disclosing the specifics of this deal, so I need you to disappear for a week.’ And he knew the perfect place to take her.
Emily stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes that held a hint of relief, probably at the confirmation he wasn’t going to make her disappear via a wooden box. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am never anything but serious.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Yes, you are. I will agree to clear your father’s name but in return you must agree to go into hiding for a week.’
He had to give her something in exchange, that much he knew. And, seeing as it was her father’s name she wanted to clear, then that was what she would have. It was hardly a trivial sum either. One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand pounds had gone missing on her father’s watch. He was the only person who could have taken it.
Her stomach roiling, Emily forced her mind to think clearly. As deftly as a professional tennis player, Pascha had regained control of the court. But this wasn’t a game. Not to her. And, she knew, not to him either. What he was demanding of her was unbelievable, yet the set expression of those cool, grey eyes and the line of those wide, firm lips showed he wasn’t bluffing. ‘I can’t just leave... I have commitments...’
‘You didn’t think of those commitments when you entered my office for illegal purposes.’
‘Yes, I did, but I only planned on losing a couple of days if I got caught. Not that I expected you to catch me. I was told you were in Milan.’
‘You really are remarkably well-informed.’ Those gorgeous lips curved into the semblance of a smile. Gorgeous lips? Had her anger addled her brain...? ‘But have no fear—I will learn who your mole is.’
She threw him a tight ‘that’s what you think’ smile. Emily would never sell out a friend, especially to a man as dangerous as Pascha Virshilas, who ruined people’s health and reputations for fun. She would bet that was the extent of any fun he had. He was so buttoned up, he probably even treated sex with the utmost precision.
And now she was imagining his sex life—where on earth had that come from? He’d unnerved her more than she’d credited.
Pascha rose to his feet and looked at his watch. ‘I will give you five minutes to make your decision: your father’s freedom in exchange for yours.’
‘But where will I go? I have nowhere to go to.’
‘I have somewhere to take you. It’s safe and out of the way.’
Leaving her standing there to glower at his retreating
