The Platinum Collection: A Convenient Proposal. Maisey Yates

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      “Louise will send you something.” He looked down at his computer for a moment, then back up at her. “I would prefer not to be bothered by the arrangements. I figure our agreement should have as many perks for me as possible. And somehow I get the impression that planning an event is a perk to you.”

      “It most certainly is. Especially in New Orleans. In the meantime I will be in touch with the media about the event, and I will let them know how deliriously happy I am to be wearing your ring.” She picked the ring box up from the desk. “Even though yellow is not my color.”

      “I disagree, I think yellow could be your color. You just seem to insist on wearing black.” He examined the black pencil skirt and fitted black top she was wearing today. He couldn’t deny that she looked striking in black, but still.

      “You, too,” she said, indicating his suit.

      “Touché. We will be in touch.” She turned to go. “And Ms. Calder...” She turned back to face him. “You had better make sure to put the ring on. The press will be expecting it.”

      The right corner of her lips tugged downward, and she reconfigured the things she was holding, opening the ring box and taking the jewel out. Then she slipped it, rather unceremoniously, onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “There—” she wiggled her fingers “—are you satisfied?”

      No, dammit, he wasn’t. She was too cold by half, too in control. He didn’t like it. And before he could question why, he had stood and rounded the desk.

      “Not just yet.” He closed the distance between them, watching as her blue eyes widened with each step he took nearer to her. “You do not look like a woman who has just had an encounter with her fiancé.”

      “What do I look like?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, her expression still far too composed. All of the color in her cheeks was courtesy of her makeup.

      “A woman who has just been in a business meeting. And I find that unacceptable.”

      Her hair was already slightly messy from her trek across the city, but he still felt it wasn’t enough. He reached out, pressing his fingers to her temples and sliding his hand backward, fingertips sinking deeply into the softness of her hair. She froze beneath his touch, her eyes widening, her mouth rounding into a perfect O.

      He shifted his hold, tugging at the pins that held her bun in place, letting the shimmering locks fall free around her shoulders. He raised his other hand, forking it deeply in her hair, ruffling it slightly as he might have done during a passionate kiss.

      For the first time, he thought he might have actually succeeded in shocking her. Oh, certainly he’d had moments of surprising her, such as when he’d taken her up to his apartment in the gym and talked fake engagement logistics in a towel. But he didn’t think he had truly shocked her until this moment.

      He was only guessing, of course, because of the way that she held herself so still, because of the way that she looked at him, blue eyes wide and lacking in the kind of sharpness they usually held.

      There was something soft there now, something blurry.

      His stomach tightened, lust grabbing him by the throat and shaking hard. He was on edge with her, a touch bringing him much closer to losing hold on his control than he would like to admit.

      There was no denying that he found her very attractive. No denying that she was very attractive. And he wanted to know what it would be like to undo all those buttons on her blouse, to push that tightly fitted skirt up around her hips, tease her until she cried out, and then sink into her softness.

      He wouldn’t do any of those things. She had him in a difficult position, and he would not increase the power she had by giving into this unwanted attraction.

      She gasped, as though she had read his mind, as though she had seen into his filthy fantasies. But, though he wouldn’t act on them, he was fine with her being aware. Let her know. Let her understand. Let her feel the control slip from her grasp as she realized that he was the one with the upper hand.

      That, while he felt the attraction, if he chose to act on it, she would be powerless to resist. That he could have her, begging, naked, if he wanted.

      The color heightened in her cheeks, as though he really had kissed her. As though he had spoken the words that were running on a loop through his mind out loud.

      “That’s better.” He released his hold on her and took a step backward, much more affected than he should be. Than he cared to be. He had been doing this to exercise control yet again, and yet again, she had tested it. “Now you look much more like a woman who has just been with her fiancé.”

      “I think the ring would’ve done it,” she said, the crystal edge her voice normally held dulled, replaced by something much more husky. Something thicker, richer. And he knew that would be the voice she would use in bed. Soft like velvet and just as luxurious.

      Desire slugged him sharply in the gut and he turned away from her. “That you think the ring would’ve been enough makes me wonder what you know about relationships, Ms. Calder. Perhaps that is why the engagement to your prince didn’t work out?”

      It was an unkind thing to say, but he didn’t really care. He had never much minded whether or not people saw him as kind. In fact, he generally preferred for people to see him as the grumpy bastard he was.

      Which was part of his problem now. He’d taken no pains with his reputation at all. His life had opened up wide when he’d retired from fighting, when he’d earned his money and he’d taken the chance to live it as he saw fit. To live without limits.

      Too bad the public didn’t appreciate his expression of freedom to the same degree that he did.

      “Fortunately for you, Mr. Markin, I do not need to understand personal relationships. I only need to understand how to improve one’s image in the media. I only need to understand how to put on a gala and get a charity running, and on that score I am an expert. I’ll let you worry about the rest. You seem to be doing an adequate job. I bid you good day.”

      And when he turned back around she was gone, and he had the inescapable feeling that she had won a round yet again.

      * * *

      Victoria spent the next two weeks fielding congratulatory phone calls from friends and family and putting together plans for the launch of the Colvin Davis Foundation. A venue in New Orleans had been selected, local restaurants were providing food as a donation, she had managed to find a minor celebrity to act as master of ceremonies and she was just generally feeling really good about the decisions she’d been making lately.

      Now that all of her overseas responsibilities had been arranged, she was doing one of her favorite things in the world. She was packing for a trip.

      She’d never been to New Orleans before so she’d spent the morning researching what she might need to bring, then finding the corresponding items in her closet, making lists of what she didn’t have, and planning on when she could buy them.

      She and Dmitri would be leaving in just two days. She managed to avoid him in the weeks since they’d made their engagement official. The media was chomping at the bit for a picture of the two of them, but in her mind that was so much the better. Better to leave them wanting than give them too much.

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