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. She pushed the bulk of the chips toward Greg Hudson, keeping only a handful for herself. “This pays my sister’s debt completely, yes? We are free of you now?”
“Free?” Greg Hudson glared at her, then his piggy eyes narrowed. “Yes, you’re free. In fact, I want you and your sister off this property tonight.”
“You’re firing us?” Her jaw dropped. “For what cause?”
“I don’t need one,” he said coldly.
She stiffened. She hadn’t seen that coming. She should have. A small-minded man like her boss would never stand being beaten in a card game by a female employee. He’d already resented her for weeks, for the respect she’d quickly gained from the staff, and all the notes she’d left in the suggestion box, listing possible ways to improve his management of the resort.
“Fine.” She grabbed her handful of chips and glared at him. “Then I’ll tell you what I should have written up in the suggestion box weeks ago. This resort is a mess. You’re being overcharged by your vendors, half your employees are stealing from you and the other half are ready to quit. You couldn’t manage your way out of a paper bag!”
Mr. Hudson’s face went apoplectic. “You—”
She barely heard him as he cursed at her. These extra chips, worth thousands of dollars, would give both Dalton girls a new start—buy them a plane trip back to the Mainland, first and last months’ rent on a new apartment, and a little something extra to save for emergencies. And she would go someplace where she’d be sure she never, ever saw Vladimir Xendzov again. “I’ll just cash in these chips, collect our last paychecks, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Wait, Miss Dalton,” Vladimir said from behind her in a low, husky voice.
Her body obeyed, without asking her brain. Slowly, she turned. She couldn’t help herself.
He was sitting calmly at the table, looking up at her with heavily lidded eyes. “I wish to play one more game with you.”
Nervousness rose in her belly, but she tossed her head. “So desperate to win your money back? Are times so tough for billionaires these days?”
He smiled, and it did not meet his eyes. “A game for just the two of us. Winner take all.”
“Why would I do that?”
Vladimir indicated his own entire pile of chips. “For this.”
The blood rushed from her head, making her dizzy. “All of that?” she gasped.
He gave her a single nod.
Greg Hudson made a noise like a squeak. Sweat was showing through his tropical cotton shirt as he, along with everyone in the room, stared at the pile of chips. “But Prince Vladimir—Your Highness—that’s a million dollars,” he stammered.
“So it is,” he replied mildly, as if the amount were nothing at all—and to Vladimir, it probably wasn’t.
A single bead of sweat broke out between Bree’s breasts. “And what would you want from me?”