The blonde beauty thought she was alone and Mikhail wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. She’d been snooping outside of her father’s office and hadn’t seen him hidden in the alcove a few feet away. The pure innocence radiating from her had caught him completely off guard and he’d found himself hard and aching with longing.
It had been so long since he’d touched a woman but he couldn’t remember being so taken with one.
In the past his father’s choice for the sick games that he liked to play had never bothered Mikhail. This time it did. This time his heart beat hard in his chest with fear for the woman, while at the same time his brain worked overtime to try and figure a way out for her.
He knew what she’d overheard that had sent her running into the garden of fragrance. As he followed her though, nothing in the way of an escape plan came to mind. His father wasn’t a man to cross. But for knowing him, he’d even go as far as saying that his father was in love with her. Except, he did know him better than his father thought he did and he knew that the beautiful India was his father’s obsession. Which didn’t bode well for her to walk away after the year was out. His father had purchased her for the year because the asshole who was supposed to protect her had gambled with the wrong man. Now he owed more money than he had. His father had paid handsomely for the beauty, but after seeing her, Mikhail was more determined than ever to prevent his father from touching her innocence.
You don’t have the power to stop him.
The truth stung and his fists clenched at his side while he watched the sweet innocent beauty before him. His original intention had been to follow her to prevent her escape from his father, or so he’d told himself. The truth was that he’d followed her because she’d captured his attention like no other.
With a heavy sigh, he watched and found that he couldn’t move his eyes away from the lovely fair-haired India. It made him sick to his stomach to think of his father with this sweet girl in front of him.
Her blonde hair that currently lay limp, soaked down her back and the paleness of her skin, even the way she acted, had him believing that she truly was as innocent as her father promised she was. She appeared gentle in nature by the way she caressed along the petals of her flowers with her slim and delicate fingers, just like his mother had once done many years ago in Russia. That was one of the only things that he could remember about her because he’d only been four when she’d passed away, and he couldn’t remember much else. His memories had faded over the years, like a lot of things.
Sadness and helplessness ran through him at the thoughts of his mother.
Looking for a distraction, he allowed his eyes to lower and gaze over the mouthwatering curves of India’s body. Her white dress was shear in places and had started to dry in others, but her breasts were high with tight nipples that pressed against the fabric. His breathing quickened, and as his eyes traveled lower still, there was a faint outline of her panties, leading to . . .
His groin tightened painfully, tenting his trousers as he imagined her lithe body undulating beneath him while he made her a woman.
But that will never be you . . .
He was reminded of the one thing he wished he didn’t have to think about, and seeing the woman who had his father tied in knots caused his blood to thrum through his body. Anger, and he dared admit it to himself, jealousy, filled him with hatred for the man who he once had respect for. He hadn’t for a long time and he’d wanted to walk away from him and the family. But in the Vasiliev family, the only way to leave was death. Except now, he knew that he had to stay to protect the beautiful flower who was about to be taken into a house of prickly thorns.
A house of thorns was apt considering the occupants back at his father’s estate. One wrong look and they wouldn’t hesitate to take a life. It was all he’d ever known but he wasn’t one of them. Not really. He might not be one of his father’s servants and he certainly didn’t know his flowers the way he suspected India did, but he did know his books. He loved to read and get lost in worlds that weren’t ruled by Konstantine Vasiliev.
His books wouldn’t help with the dilemma that he found himself tangled in with the beautiful blonde flower. His father was a harsh man and would kill her without blinking if she dared to refuse him. His father’s temper was legendary. India appeared to have spirit, which wasn’t good if she was going to be in the Vasiliev house because that could get her killed.
He needed to come up with a plan within the week because that was how long it took for his father to prepare the woman he was going to be with—a week of fear for India—a week of longing and planning for Mikhail.
It only took one glance at her amongst the flowers to know that she would wilt and die if she was forced to be with his father for any length of time. His father had wanted her for years but a friend had warned him away. But now that the friend was far away, his father was done waiting. There was nothing and no one who could keep him away now. His father was the only one who could break the contract, and that wasn’t going to happen.
So lost in thought, his focus suddenly cleared and he found himself staring into a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes.
India gasped, startled. “Who are you?”
She wasn’t the only one startled. He was never distracted enough to forget his purpose but with her it could be dangerous.
His gaze caressed her face and he smiled slightly at the blush slowly creeping onto her cheeks, which made them rosy pink. “I’m a friend,” he replied to her question.
Her eyes looked toward the house before she held his gaze. “I know you’re not him . . . but are you with him?”
By the way she said, him, he knew she meant his father. Not wanting to scare her away he refrained from telling her who he was to him. She’d find out soon enough. At least he would have a few minutes, that was, if she’d allow them the time and not run away.
“I’m nothing like him,” he admitted, unable to hide the anger he felt toward the man who he’d always called father.
“You’re big.” She slapped a hand over her mouth and gasped. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” She looked like a deer caught in the headlights as her eyes searched from side-to-side, as though looking for an escape.
His brows deepened into a frown as he wondered if his size really did scare her. He was intimidating and usually he’d use his size to his advantage, but with the girl in front of him, he’d hate for her to fear him.
“You’re afraid of me?” he muttered.
She tilted her head to the side and stared with curiosity shining in her deep blue eyes. “I don’t think I am,” she whispered before tugging her top lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure who you are or why you’re here at my father’s house, but I’m not afraid of you.”
His thoughts scattered as blood rushed through his ears.
She isn’t afraid of me.
That’s all he could think about as he reached out and softly fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. Her eyes dilated and her breaths became heavy as her chest lifted rapidly. His eyes drifted to the mounds currently pressed against the soft fabric of her dress. Her nipples were rock hard and very noticeable in her arousal.