body from within, like acid. And that’s just what she’d done ten years ago. Her scheming, callous heart had burned Vladimir so badly that she’d sucked all the mercy from his soul.
She’d done him a favor, really. He was better off without a working heart. Being free of sympathy or emotion had helped him build a worldwide business. Helped him get rid of a business partner he no longer wanted.
Bree had betrayed him. But so had his younger brother, in revealing that deception to a newspaper reporter while their first major deal was on the line. Burned, Vladimir had ruthlessly cut his brother out of their company, buying him out for pennies. Then he’d announced his acquisition of mining rights in a newly discovered gold field in northern Siberia. A year later, at twenty-six, Vladimir was worth five hundred million dollars, while his twenty-four-year-old brother was still broke and living in the Moroccan desert.
Though Kasimir hadn’t remained penniless for long. Even living like a nomad in the Sahara, thousands of miles from the ice and snow, he’d found a way to start his own mining company, one that now rivaled Xendzov Mining OAO. Vladimir’s eyes narrowed. He’d allowed Kasimir to peck away at his business for long enough. It was time for him to destroy his brother once and for all.
But first …
Vladimir’s lips curled as he drove the Lamborghini through the hills toward the Windward Coast. He glanced at Bree out of the corner of his eye.
He’d told himself for years that his memory of her was wrong. No woman could possibly be that lovely, that enticing.
And it was true. She wasn’t. At eighteen, she’d still been a girl.
Now, at twenty-eight, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her fragility and mystery, mixed with her outward toughness, made her more seductive than ever.
And soon, he’d know her every secret. As they drove down the hills into a lush, green valley, a cold smile lifted Vladimir’s lips. He would satisfy his hot memory of her—the thirst that, no matter how many cool blondes he took to his bed, still haunted him in dreams at night. He would satiate himself with her body.
He’d be disappointed by the experience, of course. His memory had amplified her into a goddess of desire. No woman could be that extraordinary. No woman could kiss that well. No woman could set such a fire in his blood. He’d built her up.
He would enjoy cutting her down.
From the moment Vladimir had heard her sultry voice at the poker table, and seen her slender, willowy body in the tight dark jeans and black leather jacket, her hazel eyes like a deep, mysterious forest and her full pink lips like the luring temptation into heaven—or hell—his every nerve ending had become electrified in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
At first he’d thought it was fate. When she’d taken him up on his final bet, he’d realized the two Dalton sisters must have been working some kind of con. It was the only explanation. He could think of no other reason for Bree Dalton, the smartest, sexiest, most ruthless con artist he’d ever met, to be working as an underpaid housekeeper in a five-star Hawaiian resort.
But now he’d teach proud, wicked Bree a lesson she’d never forget. He’d have her as his slave. Scrubbing his floors. And most of all, pleasuring him in bed. He looked at her, at the way her long blond hair glowed in the moonlight, at the fullness of her breasts trembling with each angry breath. Oh, yes.
“Your girlfriend is going to hate you for this,” she muttered.
In the distance, Vladimir could see the violet sky growing light pink over the vast dark Pacific. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
She glared at him. “Yes, you do.”
“Wouldn’t I know?”
“What about the woman whose breasts were pressed against your back throughout the poker game?”
“Oh.” He tilted his head. “You mean Heather.”
“Right. Heather. Won’t she object to this little master-slave thing with me?”
He shrugged. “I met her at the pool a few days ago. She was perhaps amusing for a moment, but …”
“But now you’re done with her, so you’re heartlessly casting her aside.” Bree’s jaw set as she turned away. “Typical.”
“Do not worry. I have no intention of casting you aside,” he assured her.
“A famous playboy like you? You’ll tire of me in bed after the first night.”
He found the hope in her voice insulting. Women did not wish to be cast out of his bed. They begged to get in. Hiding his irritation, he gave her a sensual smile. “Do not fear. If that happens, I’ll find some other way for you to serve me. Scrubbing my floors. Cleaning my house …”
Her cheeks turned a girlish shade of pink, but her voice was steady as she said, “I’d rather clean your bathroom with my toothbrush than have you touch me.”
“Perhaps I’ll have you clean my house naked,” he mused.
“Sounds like heaven,” she muttered, tossing her head.
Driving along the edge of the coast, he stroked his chin with one hand. “Perhaps I’ll allow my men to enjoy the show.”
That finally got her. Bree’s eyes went wide as her lips parted. “You …” She swallowed, looking pale. “You wouldn’t.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Vladimir had no intention of sharing his hard-won prize—or even the image of her—with anyone. He wasn’t much of a sharer, in any case. A man was stronger alone. With no gaps in his armor. With no one close enough to slow him down, or stab him in the back.
Looking away from Bree’s pale, panicked face—somehow he didn’t enjoy seeing that expression there as much as he’d thought he would—he turned the Lamborghini into the road to his ultraprivate, palatial Hawaii mansion. The guard nodded at him from the guardhouse and opened the ten-foot-tall electric gate.
“Relax, Bree.” Vladimir ground out the words, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t intend to share you. You’re my prize and mine alone.”
In the corner of his eye, he saw her tight shoulders relax infinitesimally. This is supposed to be her punishment, he mocked himself. Why reassure her?
But frightening her wasn’t what he wanted, he decided. He had no interest in seeing her pitiful and terrified. He wanted to conquer the real Bree—proud and sly and gloriously beautiful. He didn’t want to be tempted, even once, to feel sympathy for her.
Vladimir stopped the red car in the paved courtyard in front of his enormous beachside mansion, built on the edge of a cliff, with one story on the courtyard side, and three stories facing the ocean.
“This is yours?” she breathed.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you had a place on Oahu.” She bit her lip, looking up at the house. “If I’d known you were here …”
“You wouldn’t have come to Honolulu to try your con?”
