His Diamond of Convenience
“If what I’ve heard is true, you want to launch this charity for children. But no one trusts you to be involved inanythingconcerning children. Because, let’s face it, who would haveyouspearheading a charity forchildren? You are, by all accounts, cantankerous, ill-tempered, foul-mouthed and hot-headed. Did I miss anything?”
Dmitri took a step toward her and took a great amount of satisfaction in watching her shrink a bit. “Yes. I’m also something of a womaniser. That doesn’t help my cause. I mean, what with all the rumors flying around about how I meet a woman, take her to dinner and have her naked, between my sheets and screaming my name in only a couple of hours—”
Victoria held up a hand, clearly irritated with the line of dialogue. “I could solve your problems,” she said, twisting the subject expertly.
“By marrying me?”
“I wouldn’t actually have to marry you. I would simply need to hang on your arm for a while, then wear your ring for a while after that. Long enough to get things going.”
“You have thought this through.” And she had ambushed him, with no warning at all. A smart woman. Were she a burly man and not a fine-boned female she might have made an excellent fighter.
A worthy opponent.
But if Victoria wanted to beard the lion in his den she would have to accept the consequences.
MAISEY YATES is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online, and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: www.maiseyyates.com
For Pippa,
because you’ve loved Victoria since she first appeared. Thank you for all of your support, now and always.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VICTORIA INTENSELY DISLIKED places like this. Gyms with boxing rings, hanging punching bags and various other accoutrements. The lighting was dim, casting everything in a dull shadow. It was probably for the best, all things considered, else it might reveal the stains from dirt, blood and whatever else that undoubtedly lingered on the canvas. The air smelled of sweat, of testosterone. And she could truly think of nothing less appealing.
The entire place, and all of its inhabitants, needed to be hosed down.
If it wasn’t absolutely necessary she find Dmitri Markin, she would never have stepped foot in here.
She ran her hand over her hair, checking to see that everything was still in place, then walked forward, her high heels loud on the concrete floor as she strode through the workout area, studiously ignoring the male gazes that were following her progress through the room.
These were not the male gazes she was looking for. And therefore, she was uninterested.
Oily muscles did nothing for her. Thank you very much.
Not unless she needed a heavy box lifted. Then oily muscles could certainly serve a purpose, but not aesthetically. Not in her world.
One of the men she walked past whistled and she felt her muscles tense, starting at the base of her skull and spreading downward, her shoulders bunching up as the tension bled outward.
She didn’t give the man the satisfaction of pausing, neither did she look at him. Rather, she ratcheted her chin up a notch and forged ahead, tightening her hold on her purse and keeping her strides even.
Over the years she had become something of a challenge to men. They knew she had a reputation for keeping herself separate, for keeping herself distant. And that made her a temptation, apparently, which was just one more reason she had to disdain the gender. Which was potentially unfair of her, but she didn’t care.