Mine To Take (Nine Circles) (42 page)

Sexual desire.

She’d never had sex before but she knew intellectually what it was all about. And even if she hadn’t, three months shadowing Alex St. James had certainly taught her more about sex and seduction than she’d ever wanted to know.

Except … she’d never felt desire before, at least not for a particular person. Not even Mikhail.

Her mouth was dry. She swallowed, trying to recall what it had been that they were talking about. Something along the lines of not being a bodyguard. Being his lover instead.

He was sprawled out on the couch in front of her with the kind of muscular, indolent grace reserved for lions or panthers. His shirt was open at the throat, his black hair hanging over one eye. He looked like he always did, as if he’d had one too many late nights with one too many women.

She’d always despised his utter lack of self-control and yet found it secretly fascinating at the same time. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him and that held a certain curiosity to her, especially since she cared rather a lot about pleasing people.

Now, as he sat there on the couch, surely half-drunk from the vodka he’d had, something smoky and dark in his blue eyes, it wasn’t contempt or derision she felt.

He’s sexy.

She shut the thought down.

“And why do you want people thinking I’m your lover?” Her voice sounded like nothing was wrong and that was good. That was very good. Her training was good for something then.

He smiled, his mouth curving in that practiced, seductive way. “It’s very simple. I don’t want to look as though I need a bodyguard. It’s a weakness. And I can’t afford to show any kind of weakness at the gaming table. Especially not at this particular gaming table.”

Her jacket wasn’t buttoned the way she liked it and she was very conscious of how her own shirt was open at the throat. And of how his gaze seemed to keep dropping to that patch of skin left bare by the fabric. It was strange to be so aware of her body when she wasn’t anywhere near naked and for some reason it made her angry. “Why do you need me then?” she asked bluntly, forcing away the anger. “Do you need any protection?”

“It’s not as if the threat to my life has gone away just like that, darling. And I have reason to believe that this game could be somewhat … hazardous.”

“And what exactly does pretending to be your lover entail?”

His smile deepened. “You’ve seen my lovers. You know what to expect.”

Oh yes, she had seen them. Hanging off his arm, leaning in to receive kisses. Touches. Caresses. He was a physical man and didn’t seem to care who knew it.

She lifted her chin, struggling to compose herself. The thought shouldn’t affect her. At all. “Forgive me for saying, sir, but I’m not your type.”

“And what, exactly, have you observed about my type?”

“You like smaller women. More … feminine. Pretty socialites, actresses. I am not any of those things.”

“No, you’re not small, I’ll give you that.” His gaze dropped once more down her body and she was aware of a certain kind of heat flashing through her. One she hadn’t felt before because men generally didn’t look at her the way he was looking at her. “But you’re beautiful, Katya, never doubt it. Which makes you very much my type indeed.”

That heat had begun to move through her, warming her skin. Her jaw tightened. No, men didn’t look at her like that and she’d always been glad of it. Some of the girls at the military school she’d gone to had been pretty, the jewels in the crown of the Russian army, there for the recruitment posters and for the officers to gaze at. To be put in army beauty pageants and looked down on.

But she wasn’t one of those women. She still remembered the day after her mother’s funeral, when her father had caught her weeping in her bedroom. He’d told her that she wasn’t to cry because her mother had been weak, her suicide an act of supreme selfishness. And that from now on he would protect her from such things. He would make her strong. Then he’d collected up all the pretty dresses in her closet and put them in the trash, along with the dolls her mother had given her.

Femininity was a sign of weakness, of selfishness and therefore not permitted in the Ivanov house. Katya had been okay with that. Strength and purpose was infinitely preferable to the constant ache of grief and betrayal.

“Thank you, sir,” she said tonelessly. “But I’m not an actor. I’m not sure I could—”

“All you’d have to do is wear a few pretty dresses, a couple of gowns. Look like you’re madly in love with me and sit near me at the poker table. That’s it.” He shifted in another restless movement. “Oh and naturally keeping an eye out for threats to my life.”

“People are aware of who I am already. They know I’m your bodyguard.”

“Not outside of the States they don’t. And even if they read all the crap the media spouts about me and have seen pictures of you, once they get a glimpse of you in a gown they won’t be thinking bodyguard, I can guarantee you that right now. They’ll probably even think the whole bodyguard thing was only a gimmick.”

Despite her best intentions, a shard of anger spiked through her. Since coming to the States, she’d had to deal with this sort of thing a lot from men. Undervaluing her skills, underrating her.

“I’m not a gimmick,” she said.

“No, of course you’re not. But that could work to our advantage don’t you think?”

“I suppose it could,” she allowed. “And then what? After this game has ended?”

“Then I’ll give you whatever help you need to find your guy.”

Katya didn’t say anything for a long moment. It was true she would need help when it came to getting Mikhail out of wherever he was. She did have a few contacts in the army but Alex had been uncannily correct; they probably wouldn’t want to help her and risk potential discovery by the government. The General held a lot of influence and no one would willingly put themselves in his path. Even to help his daughter.

And as for the General himself, no matter that he’d been a mentor to Mikhail, his loyalty was to his government first and foremost. To his political aspirations. He’d been clear that as far as he was concerned, as far as the government was concerned, Mikhail Vasin had died on an unrelated visit to Chechnya. And that was the end to the matter.

She’d known the risks and so had Mikhail. Both of them had understood that the government couldn’t afford to acknowledge the presence of a black ops unit or else risk escalating the conflict with the state. But the chance of taking out one of the major terrorist leaders had been worth taking those risks.

Except she hadn’t realized how she’d feel when the worst happened. When Mikhail disappeared and the government denied all knowledge of him. When even her own father backed them instead of her.

She should have accepted the government stance as part of the job. But she hadn’t.

She’d lost her faith in it and her own father instead.

“It’s not brain surgery, darling,” Alex said lazily. “I would have thought the decision was pretty easy. You come with me to Monte Carlo and I’ll help you get your friend.”

Of course it was easy. It would mean another couple of weeks before she could start putting into motion any rescue plans but without money or contacts, both of which Alex had told her he could get, it would take her much, much longer anyway.

So why did the thought of going with him feel … threatening? Because in the end it was only a job. She could wear a gown. She could hang on his arm and pretend to be his lover. It wasn’t a big deal. And in return she’d take all his help and go and get Mikhail.

Why was she even hesitating?

Katya straightened her shoulders, ignored the trepidation that sat low in her gut. “Of course, sir. I’d be happy to come to Monte Carlo with you.”

E-NOVELLAS ALSO BY JACKIE ASHENDEN

Billion Dollar Bachelor

The Billion Dollar Bad Boy

The Billionaire Biker

Available by St. Martin’s Press

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jackie Ashenden
lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, and their two kids and two cats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, posting random crap on her blog, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband.

Jackie writes dark, sexy contemporary romance for St Martin’s Press, including the New York Billionaires Club series of novellas. You can find Jackie at
www.jackieashenden.com
or follow her on Twitter@JackieAshenden

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

“Mine to Take” copyright © 2014 by Jackie Ashenden.

Excerpt from
Make You Mine
copyright © 2014 Jackie Ashenden.

All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Cover digital illustration © by OK Creations

Author photo © Jackie Coates

eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

eISBN 978-1-4668-5257-0

First eBook Edition: December 2014