‘I find honesty is the best way to play,’ she said, this time looking straight into Aleksander’s stormy glare and refusing to bow to the power of that tempest. She felt the words like a spell casting them both to hell—hot, fiery and delicious until they burned whatever this madness was between them.
The fourth card in the centre of the table got her close to the hand she wanted, but she would have to wait to see how the men chose to bet. Her heart was thumping, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she wrestled her body under control, determined not to betray her feelings.
‘Honesty. How novel,’ remarked the Russian, as if amused by such an idea. ‘Aleksander? What are your thoughts on honesty?’
‘Final bets,’ the dealer announced into the brief moment of silence.
Aleksander pushed three hundred thousand onto the table. ‘My thoughts are simple, Kozlov. You threatened my sister. My intention is to make you pay for that for averylong time.’
Henna’s gaze flashed between the two men, surprised that Aleksander would reveal such a thing. Kozlov met the three hundred thousand on the table.
‘Well, I suppose that depends on who wins, doesn’t it? he sneered, dripping arrogance and venom in equal measure. If either man noticed that she added her bet to the pot she couldn’t say, prompting the unflappable dealer to reveal the fifth and final card.
Everything in Henna stopped—her heart, her breath, her blood. The men were still staring each other down but all she could see was the one card she’d needed.
The King of Hearts.
‘Well, Your Majesty? Can you beat this?’ the Russian growled as he threw down a straight.
White noise filled Aleksander’s ears, his eyes almost seeing stars from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wasn’t looking at Kozlov’s hand, though, but Henna—her eyes bright, round and impossible to read. Her skin glowed against the indigo silk of the dress, the deep vee he wanted to slip his fingers beneath, the flicker of her pulse at her throat that he wanted to taste. In an instant, his thirst for vengeance was quashed and all he wanted was her. To give her what she’d asked for—everything.
Aleksander tossed his cards across the table, revealing the flush that beat Kozlov’s hand. ‘Your membership is mine,’ Aleksander said, pushing back from the table, impatient to get Henna away from the oligarch and alone in his suite.
‘And your money ismine,’ said Henna, looking at the Russian as she stood, her eyes blazing with victory.
‘Four of a kind,’ the dealer observed, yanking both Aleksander and Kozlov’s gazes to Henna’s hand. ‘Miss Olin wins,’ he said, pushing the chips towards Henna. Aleksander’s heart pumped fiercely in his chest, pride, power, awe, delight filling his body until he felt fit to burst. Henna slid a chip to the dealer and her considerable winnings were taken care of by the concierge, who slipped away discreetly.
‘You were both in on it? You cheated!’ Kozlov yelled.
The dealer signalled to Security.
‘One should not question the integrity of the King, nor the casino in their ability to spot a cheat, Kozlov,’ Aleksander warned as suited men appeared, already flanking Kozlov’s bodyguards.
‘Nor should one underestimate the women of Svardia,’ Henna added. ‘You will stay away from Marit, from our countryandfrom the organisation,’ she commanded.
Kozlov’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, until a fierce purple bruised his cheeks. Aleksander skirted the table to meet Henna, his palm pressing gently against the bare skin at the base of her spine, sending an electrical firestorm through his body and, without a single glance back at the Russian, together they left the private tables.
In silence, Aleksander ushered her through the public tables of the casino, passed the bar where he’d first seen her and across the black and white marble floored foyer to the private elevator, beyond the main bank of elevators. The heat of her skin taunted him, burned him as they waited for the gold doors to the penthouse suite’s elevator to open. He shifted so that he stood behind her, his chest to her back, giving him access to her neck and the sensitive place he knew would drive her wild, just beneath her ear. It certainly drove him wild.
His heart pounded as it worked to force blood around his body, sluggish with desire and want.
‘Before, you asked me for everything. Is that still what you want?’ he demanded, his voice dark with a lust he could leash only if she commanded it.
‘Yes,’ she said, meeting his gaze in the mirrored reflection of the elevator doors.
‘Even though it will never be more?’ he warned.
‘If you give me everything tonight, it will be enough,’ she assured him.
And even though he knew it was a lie—because it would never be enough for him—he allowed it because his need for her was now too great to be stopped unless she commanded it.
The elevator doors opened and he ushered her forward, keeping her back to his chest. The rise and fall of her chest drew his gaze, his fingers instinctively grasping her at the hip and pulling her back against his body, against the clear evidence of how much he wanted her. As the doors closed behind them, desire pulled and pushed at him, ebbing between his possessive need for her and his instinct to reprimand her. He had hated that she had been near Kozlov but he rejoiced in her triumph and besting them both at cards.
‘When did you learn to play poker?’ he whispered as the thumb of his free hand came up to caress her shoulder blade. Her skin pebbled as his breath rolled over it, his lips barely an inch from the curve of her neck. Consciously or not, she had bent her head to give him better access. Her nipples pressed points against the midnight silk of her dress.
Her silence drew his gaze to her reflection in the mirrored walls. ‘Before you, I’d imagine,’ she teased. This bold Henna, this powerful, sensual creature, was his for the night and there would be no holding back. She deserved what she’d asked for. Not because she had beaten both him and Kozlov, but because of who she was. Because she was more regal and more worthy than anyone he’d ever met. He raised an eyebrow and she bit her tongue, little tremors beginning to filter through her body, but her gaze was steady, the look a challenge, a dare.
‘Everything,’ she replied to the question he’d been about to voice, as her arm swept up so that her hand could reach his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair above his nape. The gesture pressed her breasts forward and his hands itched to cup them, to feel the delicate weight of them in his palm. He read the truth in her eyes, the fire and heat of her need for him, and could no longer deny her a single thing.