I like Dimitri as well. He’s a good man with an excellent business sense. We’ve talked enough for me to know there is no love between Dimitri and his father, Ivan.
And while I agree that it would be better for everyone if Katarina is returned to her brother, I make no promises.
It’s a dangerous game we’re playing. And Katarina is my pawn. Nothing more.
So while I assured Ryker that I’d care for Katarina, I also understand my priorities.
If her own father kills her in the crossfire, I can’t control that.
“How many guards will be assigned to my…care?” she asks, her lip curls around the word care.
I admire her pluck and her intelligence.
“Footmen are part of life at Grandmont. As are gate guards and a security team.”
Her brows notch up. “And how much security have you added in preparation for my visit as your…guest?”
I barely keep from smiling.
Odd, because I rarely smile. Most people aren’t funny, just annoying. Not that Katarina was attempting to be funny. But her apparent acceptance, which only thinly veils her assured knowledge that I’m full of shit, actually tickles me.
Katarina knows how to talk to men.
It isn’t that she’s manly. A man would call my bluff, bluster, likely swing at my face.
Katarina sits there, her eyes narrowed, her body relaxed as she waits for me to answer. “Naturally, I have increased security. My brother has alerted me of your…situation.”
She lets out a slow breath, her head cocking to the side as she considers how next to probe.
I would normally stop a conversation as long as this one. Especially when I have information that I don’t wish to share.
But I find myself curious as to what she might say next. I lean forward in my chair, impatient to know.
“Yes. How surprising.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “A jail that’s built to keep others out, not to keep the prisoners in.”
One corner of my mouth tips up. I can’t help it. “For their protection.”
“What would protect me is if you’d let me go. Disappear.” Her brows notch up. “But we both know you’re not going to do that. Because, for whatever score you’re settling, you need me. And if you need me, I can only assume that my father is involved.”
I sit back in the chair, impressed. Sexy and smart. Noted. “You will be far safer in my care than alone. I can assure you of that.”
She makes a pishing noise. “Do I look like a damsel in distress?”
She looks like the sort of woman I’d like to fuck against a full-length mirror. “I did just rescue you from out under a bed.”
She mutters something in Russian that I’m certain is a curse word. Did she call me an asshole? Likely worse.
I add her spewing Russian to my mirror-fucking fantasy, the swell of need that rises in me is like a tsunami. I’m a man of iron control, so the wave of desire catches me off guard.
It takes all my discipline, but I take all those feelings and I lock them away. They are a distraction I can’t afford.
She’s just a tool. An important piece in a plan that is years in the making. I will not fuck it up by fucking her.
But also, and of less importance, I’m currently in the market for a wife.
Katarina falling into my clutches at this exact moment is less than ideal. But with the dukedom secured, and my fortieth birthday approaching, I decided it was time to secure the bloodline.
My last visit to the doctor revealed that my sperm count is dropping with age. It wasn’t information I found pleasant.
