Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (66 page)

Alexei had lingered inside the skating arena long after she’d come and gone—nearly ten minutes. Finally, he leveled his shoulders and adjusted his posture, shaking off the weakness before strolling outside and heading toward the busy fairway.

Entranced by the snow-covered ice crystals clinging to bare branches, the icicles glistened in the sunlight and reminded him of Russia. Alexei’s home was Florida now, which rarely offered winter scenery. Except at the mall. Alexei didn’t do
the mall
.

With each step, he left shoeprints in the light dusting of snow on the sidewalk. A brisk wind whipped across his face and he turned, catching sight of the outdoor rink.

A group of amateur skaters, all bitten by the Olympics bug, strutted their stuff on the ice. He stopped to watch, favoring any distraction to the thoughts nagging him about Kate Peterson.

It wasn’t a case of old feelings resurfacing, Alexei had closed that chapter long ago. He no longer cared where she’d been or why she’d chosen this particular occasion to resurface. Or, why she’d lied.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Now that he’d seen her again, he was curious about the lie. He didn’t like it, but he did wonder. She said she’d write.

She never did.

Her disappearing act had puzzled him back then, but not nearly as much as her odd behavior this afternoon. Something about her was off. Tonight, he’d find out what.

Alexei folded his arms over the outdoor rink’s railing and scanned the growing crowd on the ice. Sometimes he enjoyed standing on the sidelines like this, watching people skate just for fun. Competition had a way of spoiling that. Of all the skaters, a little girl showed the most promise. Guessing, he figured her for about six or seven. She weaved and twirled into a perfected spin.

Ah, a future Olympic hopeful
. To skate as well as she did, she must’ve been at it a long time. She didn’t appear jaded though. Perhaps she’d never competed. Probably not. She still had that “this is fun” air bubbling over in her laughter.

She didn’t resemble the woman with her. Perhaps she was a replica of her father. Alexei studied the mother-daughter duo, familiarity seeping into his senses. The woman’s coffee-colored tresses were nothing like the youngster’s golden-brown hair, which reminded him of his own.

“Angeline, watch this.” The child squealed and soared over the ice with one leg in the air.

Angeline…stepmother perhaps
?
No
. He didn’t know why, but he decided the woman was a caregiver.

“Please be careful, Katya. You’re mother will kill me if you hurt yourself.”

Katya
. The name caught him off-guard. He didn’t hear it often in the States. Understandably. Intrigue prompted his curiosity. How had her parents come by the name?

A brief connotation crossed his mind. What were the chances of him talking the mother of his future children into naming a daughter Katya? Eighty-twenty? Like that’s ever going to happen. Okay, seventy-thirty.

Humph
. Cynicism conquered his thoughts. Children were doubtful. Not out of the question. Just doubtful. He’d never allowed the bed-sheets to warm beneath any woman, not since Kate Peterson. A fleeting, speculative inquiry hit him, and he wondered if he’d ever fathered any children.

Not that he was careless. Accidents happen. Condoms break. Just like hearts.

Memories swamped him, kicked him in the gut and hauled him back to the day his coaches had dragged him out of Kate’s hotel room. Recollections he’d just as soon forget emerged.
The hurt in her eyes
.
The look on her face
.
The tears on her cheeks
.

Crocodile tears, he’d come to learn when he returned to the United States nearly a year later only to find Kate Peterson had disappeared.

She’d found a way to get past it. She must have. There was nothing in her eyes today. No sorrow. No regret. Her eyes were void of everything. Even recognition. Her ability to cast him aside like yesterday’s trash belted his ego.

Kate wasn’t the reason he’d come to Squaw Valley, but she was the reason he’d grow to regret the trip. Why had he let Brent talk him into this? It wasn’t like he got all warm and fuzzy when it came to the Olympics. Thinking about it led to nothing but bad memories. Luckily, he’d managed to turn figure skating into a stepping stone in his quest for success. He couldn’t care less about lighting that damned torch, but he’d use the appearance to his advantage.

Sergei Agisotelis, Alexei’s best friend since childhood, cleared his throat but it was unnecessary. Alexei knew he’d been quietly standing at his side for over five minutes.

Alexei elbowed his Cashmere overcoat back and stuffed his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Serge—” He addressed his friend by his childhood nickname. These days, the only time he called him Sergei was when he was pissed and wanted him to know it. “You look tired this morning,” he said, even though he hadn’t looked at Serge the entire time he’d been standing there.

Serge cleared his throat again. “I’ve got bad news.”

“What is it?” Alexei asked, still fixed on the little girl skating on the ice. Something about the child seemed familiar.

“Turns out your little fling with April Portman has developed into one major headache.” Serge grumbled his disapproval.

Alexei retained control by withholding his attention until the last possible moment. “How so?”

Serge clasped his hands behind his back. “She ran home crying to Mommy and Daddy.”

Alexei didn’t give April Portman or her family much consideration. “What do they want? Money?” He looked at the ground and tapped the toe of his custom-made shoes against the sidewalk beneath him.

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had hit him up for money. He didn’t like it and normally wouldn’t succumb to the extortion, but right now he didn’t have time for the distraction. Kate’s betrayal had snuck into the forefront of his mind and was demanding every ounce of energy.

“How much do you think they want?” Alexei asked, wanting to wrap up the mess quickly.

“Attempting to pay off a United States senator may not be the smartest move on your part.” Serge’s eyes narrowed into his trademark condescending glare.

Alexei choked on the shock rising in his throat. “Her father is a senator?”

“Worse.” Serge tilted his head. “Her mother.”

Alexei blew out a frustrated sigh. “This is going to bite me in the butt, isn’t it?”

“I understand
Mummy
is very angry.” Serge paused, massaging his forehead. His face had paled and perspiration beaded his blond hairline. From the looks of him, he’d decided things could get worse. A lot worse.

Damn it
. Alexei shook his head and suppressed a groan. “I don’t have time for this right now, Serge.”

“The senator’s not going to just go away,” Serge said, his voice impossibly high-handed. “And we really don’t need the headache. Not with the Olympics looming on the horizon. It’s bad publicity.”

“Well, you know what they say about publicity…” Alexei’s words trailed off his tongue. Visions of triumph fluttered across his mind. Any publicity, good or bad, he’d find a way to capitalize on it because he never failed. Not when it came to business, which was much safer than love.

“Yes, there is such a thing as bad publicity.” Serge retaliated in a stern voice, but quickly wilted under Alexei’s scrutinizing stare. “Publicity from a scorned lover is never good,” he said, making a bold claim amid his shrinking confidence.

“Scorned lover?” Alexei scoffed, dismissing Serge’s concerns. “I didn’t lie to her.” His defenses kicked in and his tone hardened. “I didn’t lead her on. I never promised her anything.”

“Except a good time. Right?”

Alexei frowned, pushing Serge’s observation aside. “Just take care of it.” He backed away from the railing and stepped toward the fairway before stopping to issue one last order over his shoulder. “I want every detail you can unearth on Kate Peterson. She won the gold in women’s figure skating eight years ago. She’s an American.”

*I hope you enjoyed this preview of
Saving Katya
. If you’d like to read the book in its entirety, it’s available on
Kindle
or
Nook
, or check with your favorite online retailer. If you like historical romance please turn the page for an excerpt of
Love by Secrets
from Debra Elizabeth.*

LOVE BY SECRETS

by

Debra Elizabeth

Chapter 1

London, England

1815

E
ighteen-year-old Emily Stanton waited for the coach to stop. “Come on, Nesmith. Let’s go see Mrs. Cardill. I hope she’s feeling better today. It must have been such a shock to her when Mr. Cardill died so suddenly.”

Her lady’s maid nodded and grabbed the basket of food sitting on the seat beside her. “Yes, I’m sure it was. Being a widow at twenty-five with two small children to care for will not be easy for her,” Nesmith said.

“I hope that Sophia likes the ribbons I’ve brought. She kept playing with my bonnet the last time we were here. Do you think I’ve brought enough?”

Nesmith chuckled. “Yes. She doesn’t have any so I’m sure she will love them.”

The driver jumped down and helped the two women out of the coach. They walked to the front door and knocked. A baby was crying inside and it took a few moments before the door opened.

In the doorway stood a young woman with an infant in her arms. “Miss Stanton, what a lovely surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you down in these parts.”

“Nesmith and I came to see how you’re faring?”

Jane Cardill lowered her eyes. “I’m doing the best I can, but I miss my Nate.”

“Yes, such a dreadful accident. My sincerest condolences. May we come in? I’ve brought something for Sophia.”

“Where are my manners? Of course, please come in.” Jane stepped aside to let her visitors enter.

Nesmith put the basket on the table. “Cook has sent over a little something to tide you over, Jane.”

“Thank you, Nesmith. That is so kind. Please thank Cook for me. It’s much appreciated. Shall I put the kettle on for tea?”

“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Emily said.

“Nonsense. No trouble at all.”

“I’ll take little Nate. It’s been a long time since I held a little one,” Nesmith said.

“He’s been most unsettled today,” Jane said.

Nesmith took the crying infant from Jane’s arms and sat down at the table. “There, there, little one,” she cooed while patting the baby’s back.

A shy little girl of five years peered out from behind the chair until she saw who had come to visit. “Em, Em, Em,” she yelled with glee.

Emily knelt down. “Sophia, I’ve missed you and guess what? I have a surprise for you today.”

Sophia ran into Emily’s outstretched arms. “What?”

Jane turned from the fire. “Sophia, don’t be rude to Miss Stanton. Mind your manners.”

The little girl nodded, but held tight to Emily.

Emily scooped the little girl up in her arms and joined Nesmith at the table. While Sophia sat patiently in her lap, she reached inside her reticule and pulled out several ribbons. She smiled when Sophia’s eyes lit up. “I’ve brought you ribbons for your bonnet. Do you like them?”

Sophia reached out to touch the pink satin ribbon. “Mine?”

Emily nodded. “Yes, Sweetie. Now you’ll be the prettiest girl around.”

Jane brought three cups of tea to the table. “Miss Stanton, thank you. That is very generous of you. I can never repay your kindness.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Emily said and then whispered in Sophia’s ear.

The little girl hopped off her lap. She ran to the front door and grabbed her bonnet from the hook and brought it back to Emily. “Here it is.”

Emily took the bonnet and Sophia climbed up into her lap again. “Which one shall we use?”

Sophia picked up the pink satin ribbon and gave it to Emily. “Pink.”

Emily chuckled. “Of course, pink it is.” She pulled out a needle and thread and sewed the new ribbon on her bonnet. “There you go! Want to try it on?”

The little girl nodded.

Emily tied the ribbons under her chin. “See, what did I tell you. You’re the prettiest girl around.”

Sophia climbed off Emily’s lap and ran to her mother. “Mama, look at me.”

Jane hugged her daughter. “So very pretty.” She looked at Emily and mouthed another thank you.

Nesmith got up and put the sleeping baby in the cradle. “There. He should sleep now.”

“You have the touch. He’s been fussing all morning. I don’t know how to thank you both,” Jane said, looking between Emily and Nesmith.

“What will you do now?” Emily asked.

Jane sighed. “My sister has invited me to join her. They can always use more hands at the farm.”

“When will you leave?”

“As soon as possible. I will sell what I can before making the journey north.”

The women talked a while longer before Nesmith and Emily rose to leave. Jane walked them to the door.

“I hope you fare well,” Emily said. She pressed a small money purse into Jane’s hand.

“Oh, Miss Stanton. I can’t possibly accept this. You’ve been so generous already.”

“Nonsense. Hire a driver and wagon to take you to your sister’s farm. It should help with your immediate expenses.”

Tears spilt down Jane’s cheeks. “Thank you for everything.”

Nesmith hugged Jane. “Goodbye, Jane. I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

Emily and Nesmith left and got into their waiting coach.

“Do you think she’ll fare well,” Emily asked.

“I don’t know. With two children, it will be hard for her to find a husband that will accept them as his own.”

“I hope she finds love again.”

“I don’t think love will be her deciding factor if a marriage proposal presents itself.” Nesmith patted her hand. “You’ve been most generous to her and we can only pray that Jane will fare well. You cannot save every widow in London.”

“I know, but I must try. I wish there was something else to be done for Jane. Little Sophia is such a delightful child.”