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Intoxicating.
“I can’t possibly let you buy this,” the enchanted beauty said fretfully. “You won’t let them tell me how much it costs, but I’m sure it’s very expensive.”
Vladimir lifted his hand, signaling to the five saleswomen who were hovering around them in the luxury designer atelier. “We will take it.”
With a happy gasp, the salesgirls descended on Bree with sewing pins and measuring tape, to shape the couture gown perfectly to her body. Bree looked at them in dismay. But it was nothing compared to the sick expression he’d seen on her face when his COO had wanted to fire all the workers he called “dead weight.”
Vladimir had lied. He wasn’t planning an expansion. He’d just been unable to bear the emotions he’d seen on Bree’s face: the anger, the powerlessness, the desperation. It reminded him how she’d spent ten years wasting her talents in minimum-wage jobs, because the man she’d trusted to protect her had left her to face all her enemies alone.
Now, she bit her pink, full lower lip. “I shouldn’t let you do this.”
“It’s already decided.” Rising to his feet, he felt glad once more that he’d decided to take the day off and spend it with her, leaving even the bodyguards behind. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You need a dress. I’m taking you to a very elegant ball for New Year’s Eve.”
Bree’s dark-fringed hazel eyes went wide. “You are?”
“You will be,” he said huskily, “the most beautiful woman there.”
“I—I will?”
Her cheeks blushed in girlish confusion. Her charming innocence, at such odds with the wickedly seductive vixen she’d been when she’d shown up at his office building in lingerie hours before, made Vladimir want to kiss her.
So leaning forward, he did.
Her lips felt hot and velvety-soft. Her mouth parted for him, and he deepened the kiss. With a gasp, Bree started to wrap her arms around him.
Then she winced, pulling away. Rubbing her arm, she looked down at her skin. She’d been pricked by the needle of the salesgirl attempting to pin the waist of Bree’s bodice.
Vladimir saw a small red dot of blood on Bree’s skin, and was blinded by instant, brutal rage. He turned on the hapless girl and spoke harsh words in Russian.
The salesgirl choked back a sob and answered him with a flurry of begging and excuses. He stared at her, implacable as stone.
The salesgirl fell to her knees in front of Bree, holding the hem of the blue silk ball gown as she gazed up with imploring eyes.
Bree looked up at him uneasily. “What’s she saying?”
“She’s begging for mercy,” Vladimir said coldly. “She’s saying she’s the sole support of an aging mother and two-year-old son, and she’s begging you to intervene with me, so I don’t have her fired.”
“You wouldn’t do that!”
“I have just told her I will.”
“What?” Bree gasped, staring at him. “No!”
“She hurt you,” he said tightly.
“It wasn’t her fault!” Bree tugged on the young woman’s arms, forcing her to rise. “I’m the one who moved. And you’re the one who kissed me! She never meant to stick me with her needle!”
“What does her intention matter? The pain for you was the same.”
Bree was staring at him as if he were crazy. “Of course it matters! Why would I punish her for something that she didn’t even mean to do? It was an accident!”
It was an accident. The memory of his brother’s miserable, humbled voice on the phone ten years ago floated unbidden through Vladimir’s mind. Forgive me, Volodya. I’m sorry.
“Don’t have her fired. Don’t!”
Bree’s beautiful face came into focus. “Josie and I have been fired like this before.” Her eyes were pleading as she clutched his arm. “You don’t know what it’s like, to always know that your boss or a single customer can just snap his fingers and take away your livelihood and your pride and your ability to feed your family.” She swallowed, her heart-shaped face stricken. “Please don’t do this.”
Vladimir’s lips parted. He didn’t even realize he’d agreed to her request until he saw Bree’s beautiful face light up with happiness. He dimly heard the grateful sobs of the Russian girl, but as Bree threw her arms around him, he felt only her. Saw only her.
