gave her a calm smile. “That is an additional raise.”
“A … a raise?” she echoed uncertainly.
“Obviously. Let us say … your added services are equivalent to an additional five thousand dollars? Yes. A full night with you would surely be worth that.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Would you not agree?”
“Five thousand more?” Greg Hudson’s voice hit a false note. Catching himself, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and snickered, “Fine with me. I’m half raised already.”
“Good,” Vladimir said softly, never looking away from Bree. “So we are in agreement.”
Bree’s brow furrowed as she tried to read his expression. What on earth was he doing?
Trying to help her? Or giving her more rope to hang herself with?
Repressing her inner tumult, she stared him down. In for a penny … She lifted her chin. “If it’s worth five more, then why not ten more?”
The corners of Vladimir’s mouth lifted. “Yes, indeed. Why not?” He looked around the table. “Miss Dalton has raised the wager by ten thousand dollars.”
To her shock, one by one the men agreed to her supposed “raise,” except for the Belgian, who folded with an unintelligible curse.
And just like that—oh, merciful heavens—there was suddenly a pile of chips at the center of the table worth seventy-five thousand dollars.
She looked at each man as they discarded cards and got new ones from the dealer.
Don’t play the hand, her father had always said. Play the man.
She forced herself to look across the table at Vladimir. His face was inscrutable as he discarded a card and got a new one. When she’d played him ten years ago, he’d had a tight style of play. He did not bluff, he did not overbet—the exact opposite of Bree’s strategy.
He lifted his eyes to hers, and against her will, her heart turned over in her chest. His handsome face revealed nothing. The poverty of his homesteading Alaskan childhood, so different from hers, had pushed him to create a billion-dollar business across the world, primarily in metals and diamonds. He was so ruthless he had cut his own younger brother out of their partnership right before a multimillion-dollar deal. It was said Vladimir Xendzov had molten gold in his veins and a flinty diamond instead of a heart. That he wasn’t flesh and blood.
But if Bree closed her eyes, she could still remember their last night together, when they’d almost made love on a bearskin rug beneath the Christmas tree. She could remember the heat and searing pleasure of his lips against her skin in the deep hush of that cold winter’s night.
I love you, Breanna. As I’ve never loved anyone.
No one else had ever called Bree by her full name. Not like that. Now, as they looked at each other across the poker table, they were two enemies with battle lines drawn. Everything she’d ever thought him to be was a dream. All that was left was a savagely handsome man with hard blue eyes and an emotionless face.
She turned away. Greg Hudson and the Silicon Valley tycoon were far easier to read. She watched her boss get three new cards, saw the sweat on his face and the way he licked his thick, rubbery lips as he stared down at his hand. Hudson had nothing. A pair of twos, maybe.
She looked at Silicon Valley. His lips were tight, his eyes irritated as he stared down moodily at his cards. He was probably already thinking about the twenty thousand dollars he’d wagered in the pot. She hid a smile.
“Miss Dalton?” Chris the dealer said. Stone-faced, she handed in the four of spades. Waited. And got back …
A queen.
She forced herself not to react, not even to breathe. Three kings and two queens. A full house.
It was an almost unbeatable hand. Careful not to meet Vladimir’s eyes, she placed her cards facedown on the table. How she wished she could raise again! If only she had more to offer, she could have finished off her sister’s debt right now—with a single hand!
Don’t be greedy, she ordered herself. Seventy-five thousand dollars was plenty. Once she had it safely in her possession, the offer of her body—and unbeknownst to the men, her virginity—would be off the table.
But still. A full house. Her heart filled with regret.
“Raise,” Vladimir said.
She looked up with a frown. Why would he raise now?
His eyes met hers. “Fifteen thousand.”
“Fold.” With a growl, Silicon Valley tossed his cards on the table. “Damn you.”
Greg Hudson nervously wiped his forehead. For several seconds, he stared at his cards. Then he said in a small voice, “Call.”
They all looked at her. Bree hesitated. She wanted to match Vladimir’s raise. Yearned to. She had an amazing hand, and the amount now in the pot was even more than her sister’s debt. But without anything more to offer, she was already all in. Even if she won, she wouldn’t get the additional amount.
If only she had something more to offer!
“Well?” Vladimir’s eyes met hers. “Will you call? Perhaps,” he said in a sardonic voice, “you wish to raise your offer to an entire weekend of your charms?”
Bree stared at him in shock. A weekend?
She didn’t know why he was helping her—or if he thought he could hurt her. But with this hand, it didn’t matter. She was going to win.
“Great idea,” she said coolly. “I’ll match your raise with a full weekend of my—how did you put it? My charms?”
Vladimir’s lips turned up slightly at the edges, though his eyes revealed nothing.
Heart pounding, she waited for Greg Hudson to object. But he didn’t even look up. He just kept staring at his own cards, chewing on his lower lip.
It was time to reveal cards. Vladimir, based on his position at the table, went first. Slowly, he turned over his cards. He had two pairs—sevens and nines.
Relief flooded through Bree, making her body almost limp. She hadn’t realized until that moment how scared she’d been that even with her completely unbeatable hand, Vladimir might find a way to beat her.
Greg Hudson’s cards, on the other hand, were a foregone conclusion. He muttered a curse as he revealed a pair of threes.
Blinking back tears, Bree turned over her cards to reveal her full house, the three kings and two queens. There was a smattering of applause, exclamations and cursing across the room. She nearly wept as she reached for the pile of chips at the center of the table.
She’d saved Josie.
She’d won.
Bree’s legs trembled beneath her as she rose unsteadily to her feet, swaying in her high-heeled stiletto boots.
