JENNIE LUCAS - A Reputation For Revenge

Josie’s mouth fell open as she looked up. Her? Beautiful?

Was he—cripes—was it possible he was flirting with her?

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself savagely. He’s being courteous. Nothing more. She had no experience with men, but she did know one thing: a devastatingly handsome billionaire prince would have no reason to flirt with a girl like her. But still, she felt giddy as she looked up at him, mesmerized by his blue eyes, which seemed so warm now, warm as a June afternoon, warm as one of the brief summers of her childhood in Alaska.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that,” he said softly.

She swallowed, lifting her gaze to his. “Then don’t tell me I’m beautiful. It’s… it’s not something I’ve ever heard before.”

“Then all the other men in the world are fools.” His blue eyes burned through her. “Our marriage will be short, but for the brief time you are mine…” He put his hand over hers. “I am not going to stop telling you that you’re beautiful. Because it’s true.” His lips curved up at the corners as he said softly, “And didn’t I just say that one should always speak the truth?”

Stop, Josie ordered her trembling heart as she looked up at his handsome face. There would be no schoolgirl crushes on her soon-to-be husband! Absolutely none!

But it was too late. The deed was done.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?” she breathed.

He smiled, as if he could see the sudden brutal conquest of her innocent heart. “To marry me.”

“Oh. Right.” She bit her lip. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

Pulling her into the foyer, he took a bouquet of white flowers out of a waiting white box. He placed a bridal bouquet in her hand. “For you, my bride.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, fighting back tears as she pressed her face amid the sweetly scented flowers.

He scowled. “Don’t you dare tell me no man has ever given you flowers before.”

She hesitated. “Well…”

“You’re killing me,” he groaned. “The men you know must be idiots.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Well, I don’t really know any men. So it would be unreasonable to expect them to buy me flowers.”

“You don’t know any men?” He stared at her incredulously. “But you’re so friendly. So chatty.”

“I don’t talk to cute ones. I’m too nervous. Besides—” she gave her best attempt at a casual shrug “—Bree won’t let me date. She’s afraid I’ll get hurt.”

His lips parted. “You’ve never been on a date?”

She shook her head. “I did have a sort of boyfriend once,” she added hastily. “In high school. We met in chemistry class. He was… nice.”

“Nice,” he snorted. “With your rose-colored glasses, he probably had a mohawk, a spiked dog collar and a propensity for stealing,” he muttered.

“That’s not fair,” she protested. “After all, I think you’re nice. And you’re not a thief.”

Looking uncomfortable, Kasimir cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“We went out a few times for ice cream. Studied together at the library. Then he asked me to prom. I was so excited. Bree helped me fix up a thrift-shop dress, and I felt like Cinderella.” She stopped.

“What happened?” he asked, watching her.

She looked away. “He never showed up,” she whispered. “He took another girl instead, a girl he’d just met.” She lifted her gaze in a trembling smile. “But she put out. And I… didn’t.”

A low growl came from the back of Kasimir’s throat.

Clutching the bouquet of white flowers, Josie stared down at the pattern of the polished marble floor. “I just think kissing someone should be special. That you should only share yourself with someone you love.” She shuffled her pink flip-flops, echoing the sound across the high-ceilinged foyer. “I expect you think it’s stupid and old-fashioned.”

“No.” Kasimir’s voice was low. “I used to think the same.”

Her jaw dropped as she looked up. “What?”

He gave a humorless smile. “Funny story for you. I was a virgin until I was twenty-two.”

“You?” Josie breathed. The fact that he’d told her something so intimate caused a shock wave through her. “The international playboy?”

He snorted. “Everyone has a first experience. Mine was Nina. She worked at a PR firm in Moscow, and we hired her to help our new business. She was far older than me—thirty. We dated for a few months. After I lost my half of Xendzov Mining, I went back to Russia to see her. I was floundering. I had some half-baked idea that I’d ask her to marry me.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Instead, I found her in bed with a fat, elderly banker.”

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