She’d thought this was for the best, had been convinced she could handle Lyonya Antonov, had been sure she would have the upper hand, that she would be able to wield her affection, her body, as a weapon.
She’d made a grave miscalculation. As he’d stood over her, imprisoning her with his body, his face hungry, she’d understood why they called him the Lion. She’d half-expected him to eat her.
He was a dangerous man, in more ways than one, and now it was too late to change her mind. She had no choice but to see the arrangement through to some kind of conclusion.
She took a few deep breaths to get her body under control and walked to the sink for a glass of water. When she was calmer, she returned her mind to the problem at hand. Clearly, Lyonya intended to interpret their agreement loosely, including her in the takeover only when he saw fit.
That wouldn’t do. She’d been working beside her father for years, keeping track of all the players, their families, even their ancestral history in Russia. She’d been storing information, processing it, preparing for the moment when she would have to secure her future without her father.
She would have to show Lyonya she was of value in the fight, that she had something to offer besides her name.
And she knew just where to start.