The Bride Who Wouldn't

“There is a gentleman here to see you.”

Kate knew, even before Jasmine said his name, just who was here to see her and she felt like correcting the receptionist.

Isaak Zaretsky was no gentleman.

The Zaretsky brothers featured regularly in the business sections of the financial spreads, but it was their playboy reputation that had women flocking to the magazine racks whenever Isaak or Roman graced their covers.

Kate had guessed that it would be Isaak that would come and see her. Roman’s reputation had been tamed by his marriage and more recently the death of his wife.

Yes, she had known it would be Isaak—notorious, ruthless, and now he had the power to crush Kate and her family in the palm of his hand.

“I’m about to start a class,” Kate said, winding a long dark curl around her finger and trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. “I shan’t be available for another hour.”

Kate knew too what the response would be as she tried to delay the inevitable, and she closed her eyes as Jasmine relayed the message to the formidable man downstairs. “He says that he’ll wait.”

Kate ended the call but instead of heading out to her class she took a moment to look Isaak up on her laptop, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could find something about him that did not make her insides fold in terror. But no, unlike his uncle, Ivor, it would appear that Isaak did not have a benevolent bone in his body.

There were scorned women galore lamenting their loss but that wasn’t what Kate was interested in and she searched for business articles praying to stumble upon what she didn’t quite know but the word that came up over and over was ruthless.

The Zaretsky brothers circled over failing businesses like vultures, swooping in just prior to them declaring bankruptcy and making a majority shareholder offer—invariably resurrecting the ailing company but with the addition of the Zaretsky name.

There was a knock on her door and Kate jumped but it was just Taylor, a colleague, who reminded Kate that her class should have started ten minutes ago.

A historian, Kate’s passion was genealogy and she held classes at the library, helping people to trace their families back generations.

It was how she had met Ivor Zaretsky and the reason she now found herself in this mess.

“Thanks, Taylor, I’ll be there in just a moment,” Kate said but just before she went to close her laptop and head across the hall, she clicked on a photo. Isaak’s black hair was always cut short, almost cropped, sometimes he was clean shaven, often he wore a few days growth but always he was immaculate and always, always he seemed to be scowling.

She clicked on another photo and took a sharp inward breath. His handsome chiseled features she would soon confront. His eyes were a deep navy and as cold and uninviting as the ocean at night.

And Kate owed him a million.

“Why did you have to die, Ivor?” Kate asked out loud but of course, she got no answer.

Kate blinked back tears and let out a breath, telling herself that she must not break down here; her students would already be upset.

Kate stepped in to the room where she held her classes and solemn faces greeted her. “I’m sorry I’m late…” She looked around the room, Michael, one of the students must just have been told because he was dabbing his eyes and his shoulders were shaking. “I know that we’re all devastated to hear about Ivor…”

For more than a year, he had been a part of their lives, sharing a bit of his history, making the class laugh with his wit and humor.

He would be missed so.

The class started late and finished late too. Her hour of grace avoiding Isaak was already up but, when Michael asked a question, instead of concluding the class, Kate chose to answer.

Isaak would just have to wait.

“When you and Ivor went to Russia, did he find the answers he was seeking?”

The class knew a little of Ivor’s story though Kate knew far much more.

He had trusted Kate with his secrets and in turn, she had trusted Ivor with secrets of her own.

“No.” Kate shook her head. “We did find some paintings in a museum where a woman was wearing a ring that looked similar, perhaps from the same designer and we were going to examine those paintings more closely. I’ll do that myself now.”

“Did you find anything in the death records?” Michael asked.

“A few leads,” Kate said. “But it is going to be a painstaking process.” She gave the class a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to meet with and I’m already late.”

Isaak glanced at the ancient clock on the library wall, inwardly seething. He had arrived before midday and it was now well after one. Kate Edwards was pushing him beyond the limit of his patience.

He waited for no one—usually it was the other way around, but as he sat in the old London library Isaak had no thought of leaving.

He would outstay her.

Still, the surroundings he now found himself in had come as a surprise. Isaak had expected his uncle’s tart’s workplace to be a brothel or a strip club certainly not this magnificent building.

How had Kate Edwards done it? How had this woman managed to get his astute uncle to sign over the last of his fortune?

Isaak could guess how!

The contract in his hand was so revolting Isaak was tempted to curl it in a ball here and now. Isaak did not care about the money; his uncle’s estate was the equivalent of loose change to him. More, he was livid with this woman who had somehow made a usually wise old man her prey.

“Mr Zaretsky!”

He had not heard her approach and Isaak looked up from unusual disadvantage for he would have preferred to be standing when they met.

He rectified that immediately, but not before he got a glimpse of dark stockinged legs in velvet Cuban-heeled shoes and heard the soft, slightly nervous edge to her voice. “You wanted to see me.”

“I do.”

As Isaak rose Kate stepped back a fraction for she had not anticipated his height nor just how imposing his actual presence would be.

She was met by the unshaven version of Isaak today and although he was wearing a suit and his attire was immaculate, somehow he looked as if he had just fallen out of bed. His eyes were bloodshot, though she guessed that it was from excess rather than grieving the loss of his uncle.

Or was that his reputation clouding her judgement? Kate truly did not know.

“Should we go somewhere private?” Isaak asked and Kate hesitated. His Russian accent was rich, his voice deep and definitely not soothing. The curt edge to his tone and the way his lip curled in distaste told Kate what he thought of her. “If not,” Isaak responded to her silence, “we can discuss things here. I have no issue with that.”

A few of her students were walking down the stairs, all looking over their shoulders for a second glimpse of Isaak. They all knew he was Ivor’s nephew but his arrival in the library was curious and his beauty was worth a second look, that was for sure.

“Your office?” Isaak’s brusque call for a response broke into her thoughts and Kate glanced down to the contract he held in his hand and nodded. Certainly she did not want her business discussed here.

“Follow me.”

Her heels made no noise as they walked along the corridor, Isaak noted—the reason for her stealth-like approach.

Her scent was a contradiction.

Floral, light, sweet, it trailed her lightly as Isaak followed Kate up the stairs.

Everything about her was contrary to the image he had conjured. Her figure was subtle, Isaak noted. Well, what he could make of it for her clothes were shapeless, from the heavy skirt to the ill-fitting cardigan. Her long dark curls were worn in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.

And those eyes.

Isaak could not decide if they were green or hazel—he would find out soon, for she unlocked her office and invited him in.

“Excuse the mess.”

It was inexcusable! Isaak glanced at the stacks of books and papers. There were maps and photos and several white boards all filled with scribble. From his neat corporate mind, he wondered how the hell she got anything done. Isaak half expected a cat to jump out as she moved some files to free up a seat.

He was about to say the same but changed his mind.

Humor had no place in this conversation.

“I assume you know the reason for my visit?” Isaak said when she invited him to take a seat.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your uncle,” Kate offered, the tip of her nose reddening, tears filling her eyes, and still Isaak could not decide on their color. “He was a wonderful man.”

“Spare me the tears,” Isaak said, irritated by his own fascination with her. Tossing the contract onto the littered desk, he watched her flinch. “You recognise this I presume?”

“I do.”

For the first time she met his gaze, and though nervous, she held it.

You can do this, Kate, she told herself. Soon this uncomfortable meeting would be over and she would be able to get on with her life.

Except there was an awful lot of money that she couldn’t repay.

He watched her attempt to assert herself. How she sat straighter in the chair and attempted to fix him with her gaze and amazing eyes.

God, but she was stunning. Now he could see how his uncle had been beguiled. There was smatter of freckles on her neat, slightly snubbed nose that told him her creamy, flawless complexion did not come from a bottle and her wide, generous mouth had Isaak briefly wonder what it would look like if she smiled.

He would not be finding out, Isaak swiftly decided and his eyes abhorred her as she spoke.

“I’d like to say that just because there was money involved in our relationship I still cared for your uncle.”

“Please!” Isaak scoffed. “How come he never mentioned you to me?”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” he retorted. “Because he must have known I would tell him that he was being taken as a fool.”

“Your uncle was far from foolish. He was a very intelligent man.”

“So, when were you to announce your engagement?” Isaak asked.

“We hadn’t decided.”

“And when was the marriage to take place?”

“We hadn’t got to that yet,” Kate said and heard Isaak’s hiss of irritation at her vague response.

“How did you two meet?”

Kate avoided his gaze and looked to the pile of reference books in front of her, choosing not to answer, for it was Isaak’s history, too, that was up for question. “I don’t have to answer that.”

His questions were rapid, his impatience mounting at the vague answers she gave. “So you didn’t know when you were going to get the second million?”

“No.”

“But you knew it was coming.”

“Yes.”

“And the third million would come when you divorced…” His fingers jabbed at a clause on the contract. “I am aware of marriages of convenience but even I am taken aback by the cold details of this contract—you agree to share his bed for four nights during your honeymoon in Paris? You agree to be affectionate towards him but only in public? The list goes on and on, so please don’t attempt to tell me this was about anything other than money.”

It had been, though.

She and Ivor had hatched this plan on their trip to Russia, when Kate had confided to Ivor the shocking state of her family’s business. Their trip had been about unearthing secrets and Ivor had told her one of his own. His playboy reputation now exhausted him.

Late one night, after an arduous day spent searching museums, Ivor had told her he had once known the love of his life and that the other women he had been linked with over the years had meant little.

“I doubt I’ll ever know the love of my life,” Kate had admitted and she had told him her dark truth.

Yes, in most parts of her life she had it together. She adored her career and had stepped away from the family business when she did not approve of their dealings, she had a close circle of friends, and was paying off her home. Yet she was frigid, a twenty-six-year-old virgin with serious issues, but she was determined to work on that.

The old man had merely smiled.

From there the plan had hatched for a sexless marriage.

She would be his wife for a year with no hint of scandal from either party. Ivor had laughed and said that if he slipped up then it would be a very expensive mistake.

Kate looked over to Isaak. There was no way she could explain how the contract had transpired for she would not be discussing her sex life, or lack of it, with him.

“You need to repay the money,” Isaak said. “The contract states that if the marriage does not go ahead, for whatever reason, then all monies are to be returned.”

“Surely it’s not my fault…” Kate’s breathing was starting to trip up her words. “Surely there’s a clause that covers this.”

“You signed the contract.” Isaak pointed out, although he too was surprised that something so basic had not been more adequately covered. “It states you are to pay back the money or a suitable arrangement can be made at my discretion…”

“Then we need to come to a suitable arrangement because I can’t give it to you.” Kate said. “It’s already gone.”

“That’s a considerable amount to have spent in…” he glanced at the date on the contract, “just over a week.”

“It went to my family’s business.”

“They know about this contract?”

Kate nodded and Isaak cussed in Russian under his breath at a family that would sell their daughter to an old man.

“Were all the payments going to them?”

“They were.” She closed her eyes for a moment in shame, not for herself but for her mother and brothers’ greed—their only reaction to Ivor’s death had been questions about money and how they were going to cope without the next instalment.

She looked at his nephew, here to recoup a million.

Did anybody care about the man?

“Why would you do this for your family?” Isaak asked.

“Duty.” Kate gave a tight shrug. “Obligation, guilt…”

Isaak shifted a touch uncomfortably, for the first time her words reached him in a place he knew well.

Isaak had every reason to loathe his father. He had made his mother’s and children’s lives a living hell and yet, now an old, very sick man, still living in Russia, the brothers paid for him to have the very best care in his final years, and when Kate spoke again this time it was Isaak who looked away.

“This arrangement gave me a chance to finally turn my back on them guilt free. I had decided that this was the last thing I’d ever do for them.”

Isaak swallowed; yes, he understood her language. “It doesn’t end that easily though.” He gave her a very tight smile. “I’m not talking about the contract.”

“I know!” Kate rolled her eyes. “You’re right of course, it won’t it end it but I thought it might buy me some time.”

Green, Isaak decided. Her eyes were more green than hazel and yes, he would like to see her smile.

“Where is the ring?” Isaak asked, dragging his mind back to business. “It states it is to be returned on termination of the marriage.” That part of the contract had confused Isaak too, for it had described the ring as a family heirloom. There were no heirlooms; the Zaretskys had been dirt poor.

Kate stood and went to the safe. “Here.”

It was stunning.

A white gold setting, there was a diamond that had even Isaak’s expensive eyes widen and it was encrusted with rubies and emeralds. It truly was a work of art.

“That must cover some of it,” Kate said hopefully.

“It was always to be returned.”

“I could have said that I lost it.”

“Then you would have seen me in court.” His voice gave her no room to manoeuvre; it told her that he very much had the upper hand in this.

“There are earrings too,” Kate said. “Your uncle gave them to me as a gift. They’re worth a considerable amount, perhaps fifty thousand.” She took them from the safe and placed them on the desk.

“Which leaves you nine hundred and fifty thousand pounds short,” Isaak pointed out. “You will repay it.”

“I can’t.”

Isaak closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself how angry he was with Kate and told her a part of why. “You realise he was giving you the last of his fortune.”

Kate’s eyes widened in shock and she shook her head. “No, I thought he was a billionaire.”

“He was once.” Isaak said. “But he was a philanthropist and had given most of his wealth to charity. Had he lived, you would have left him broke.”

Yes, he was angry.

He pocketed the ring but not the earrings, stood, and shot her a warning. “This does not end here and, this time, I am referring to the contract.” He picked it up from the desk. “Are you going to attend the funeral?” His eyes told her that he would prefer that she did not but, defiant, she met his stern gaze.

“Of course,” Kate said, but then she watched his jaw clamp together and those blood shot eyes screw closed, and Kate realised he wasn’t just upset about the money, Isaak really did seem to care about Ivor. Watching this arrogant man briefly struggle for composure, she reconsidered. “If it would make it easier for Ivor’s family I’ll stay away and pay my respects later.”

Isaak opened his eyes to the soft of her voice and her compassion had him falter. “Whatever you feel is the right thing to do,” he said. “You live with your conscience, not I.”

He turned to go but Kate halted him.

“Be careful.”

“Careful?”

“With the ring,” Kate said. “It’s not a replica, it would be awful if something were to happen to it.”

He said nothing and Kate let out a breath as he closed the door to her office.

She needed to be careful too, Kate realised.

Her fate had been left to Isaak Zaretsky’s discretion.

It didn’t feel a very safe place to be.

Isaak walked out onto the street to where his driver was waiting. He would have preferred a walk to clear his head but with Roman still absent from work and his uncle’s funeral tomorrow, he didn’t have the luxury of time.

Not a replica?

He went over her words as he took out the ring. A replica of what?

He tried to make out the hallmarks but would need a magnifying glass. Certainly the ring was exquisite, the diamond was huge, the rubies and emeralds that surrounded were more than generous, but Isaak could not fathom why his uncle would call it a family heirloom.

He thought of his mother’s thin gold band that had chained the devoutly religious woman to his father until her death, and it had been the same with his grandparents.

There was nothing worth passing on, not even their DNA. The Zaretsky lineage was not one Isaak was proud of.

His driver returned him to his plush office and Isaak took a call from Roman to say he would meet him at the church in the morning.

“Why don’t I collect you and we arrive together?” Isaak suggested because he was worried how another funeral so closely to his wife’s might affect Roman.

“The church will be fine.”

“Roman?” Isaak pushed.

“I’ve moved out of the house.”

“Where to?”

“A hotel,” Roman said. “And one that we don’t own. I’m using a different name. I just can’t stand to be at home…” he let out a mirthless laugh. “Not that it ever felt like one. Hopefully, going undercover will buy me a bit of time away from the press. With Ivor’s death, they’re saying we are cursed, they’re looking into Ava…” his voice cracked and Isaak’s free hand tightened into a fist at the mention of her name. “I don’t want her parents to find out that it was all lies.”

“The press will back off soon,” Isaak said.

“When?” Roman demanded. “They will be there at the funeral tomorrow, their cameras aimed, asking questions.”

“And what do you care if that bitch is exposed?” Isaak demanded. “So what if her secret gets out. After all she did to you, it should be the least of your concerns.”

“Whatever she did wrong,” Roman answered, “Ava was my wife. It is still my duty to protect her.”

Duty.

There was that word again.

Isaak sat at his desk and took out the ring and tried to fathom why his uncle had entered into this scam with Kate.

Perhaps he had loved her, Isaak conceded, and if money was the only way he could keep her…

Why a year though?

Isaak ran a tongue over suddenly dry lips.

Perhaps Ivor had known that he was dying. He had always said that you could not take money with you.

Maybe Kate had been his final indulgence.

So why hadn’t Ivor told him about his bride to be?

For a fleeting second, Isaak considered calling Ivor to ask him just what the hell had been going on, but then he rubbed his hand across his forehead, loathing the small window of madness that had descended a few times since his uncle’s death.

He missed Ivor already.

Apart from the grief, apart from the ache of sadness, he missed their regular conversations. It was starting to properly dawn that he would never be able to call him for sage advice, never again would they share a meal at the private club where Ivor was more than a member—he had been one of the chairmen and had donated millions to charities the club quietly supported.

Had he properly thanked him, Isaak pondered? Had he ever actually sat his uncle down and told him just how grateful he and Roman were to Ivor for giving him their start?

Yes, Isaak thought, he had.

At least there was that solace.

How much better it would be to be attending his wedding tomorrow rather than his funeral.

And another Zaretsky wedding would have diverted the press’s attention from Roman.

Isaak frowned and picked up the contract, reading through it again but with a different thought pattern now.

The Zaretsky brothers, as well as their uncle, were known for their playboy ways and all three had grown tired of it.

Isaak was perhaps starting to understand Ivor’s thinking, but for his own gain now.

If he were to marry not only would a wedding move the spotlight from Roman, certainly some of Isaak’s investors would breathe a sigh of relief that his bad-boy ways had settled down. Isaak too was a little tired of being known more for his partying excesses and sexual prowess than his fiscal skills.

And yes, Isaak thought, looking at Kate’s neat signature, certainly his uncle had recognised beauty.

Isaak rang a detective he used and soon had a background check run. Kate had not lied. Her family ran an antiques dealership and were in dire straits financially. Kate held a history degree and had worked in the family business till two years ago and had since worked at the library. She had travelled to Russia recently and—Isaak quickly checked—yes, it had been with his uncle.

No, she had not lied but the lovely Kate had chosen not to tell him that part.

Perhaps he had found a solution?

One that would benefit them all.

Kate was, as usual, one of the last to leave the library but she worked particularly late tonight knowing she might be taking tomorrow off to attend Ivor’s funeral. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to go. Her mind was still swirling from the meeting with Isaak and, having missed lunch by talking to him, she was starving and was considering picking up some noodles on her way home as she said goodnight to the guard.

The heavy library door closed behind her and Kate stepped out into the dark London night.

It was spring and soon the clocks would change but for now it felt as if they were locked in winter.

“Kate.”

She jumped at the sound of her name for even with one syllable she recognised his voice.

“You need to make an appointment to see me,” Kate said and started to walk quickly. “I don’t discuss my business on the street.”

“Then I buy you dinner.”

“No thank you.”

“A drink then…” Isaak suggested.

“I said no thank you!” He caught her wrist and she gave in then for this six-foot-two Russian was not going to be gotten rid of so easily and so she stood and faced him.

“I have a solution,” he said.

“Really!”

“As you said, business should not be discussed on the street, we go to my club.”

“Club!” Kate’s lips curled in distaste. “On the eve of your uncle’s funeral?”

He said nothing just nodded to his car where the driver was holding open the door and Kate knew there was no getting out of it.

As they were driven past Hyde Park and to Mayfair, Kate could have kicked herself, especially when they pulled up outside a very esteemed private club. The car was bathed in gold by a street lamp and she actually offered an apology.

“When you said club, I thought you meant a night club.”

His eyes skimmed over her attire, the thick stockings and cardigan and for the first time since meeting her, he actually smiled at the thought of her in a nightclub, though he made no comment.

Kate had never seen a smile change someone’s features so. His stern mouth softened and there was a small fan of lines around his eyes like rays of the sun coming out and Kate was suddenly nervous but for different reasons for she had never truly been attracted to a man.

“Come,” Isaak said. “I need to eat.”

As he signed her in, a woman at the desk offered her condolences to Isaak.

“Thank you.”

They walked through the elegant building and another gentleman came over and shook Isaak’s hand.

“He will be terribly missed.” The man turned and raised a glass and Kate looked over and there, on the wall behind them, was a portrait of Ivor. Seeing his kind face smiling down on them made Kate let out a little cry of surprise.

“Excuse us,” Isaak said to his friend and guided Kate to a table.

“We are both members here,” Isaak explained. “Or he was,” Isaak corrected. “I am struggling with my tenses. Usually my English is excellent but…”

“It’s fine,” Kate said, “I think we all struggle with that type of thing when someone we care for dies.”

Isaak nodded to one of the waiting staff to come over.

“I don’t want to have dinner,” Kate said because she wanted this over with quickly.

“You’re sure?” Isaak checked.

“Very.”

“I don’t need the menu then.” He nodded to the waitress. “I’ll have the Beef Wellington, please.” He looked to Kate. “What would you like to drink?”

Oh God, she was seriously hungry but no, she was not going to share a meal with him, Kate decided, and how rude of him to sit and eat in front of her! She would have one drink and then go. “A brandy,” Kate said, hoping it might douse the butterflies in her stomach.

“I used to come here with my uncle,” Isaak explained. “When I first came from Russia I discovered how much I liked English women and so I kept missing my English classes. I thought Ivor didn’t know but he brought me here and insisted I order—I remember sweating as I read the menu…” Isaak watched as her generous mouth started to stretch into a smile and it was enough of a reward for him to continue. “To my left I heard someone say to his partner, in a very posh voice, that the Beef Wellington was marvellous here and so I ordered it.” He started to laugh a little as he recalled it. “Now, every time we come, that is what I have.”

“Did he know you were faking it?”

“Of course,” Isaak said as their drinks were delivered—a large glass of red wine for Isaak and a brandy that Kate took one look at and knew, if she finished it, that any butterflies would be more than doused, they’d be knocked unconscious.

“They’re very generous serves,” Kate commented taking a sip.

“Enjoy,” Isaak said. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, I hear the Beef Wellington is marvellous.” He mimicked a posh English accent again and she smiled as she shook her head.

“Really no,” Kate said, wishing she could just say yes and not just because her stomach was growling. He really was good company but then she remembered her debt and knew she hadn’t been brought here on a whim. “You said you had a solution,” Kate started.

“I do,” Isaak said. “You would have heard about the death of my brother’s wife.”

“I did,” Kate said. “Ivor was devastated, especially when Roman told him about…” she halted and saw Isaak’s eyes widen briefly in shock.

“About what?”

“I…” Kate flustered, and took another sip of her drink unsure whether to tell him what she knew but Isaak wasn’t letting her off the hook.

“About what?” Isaak demanded.

“The baby.”

“What about the baby?” Isaak said slowly, more than a little stunned because he had assumed she would have read about the accident in the papers, not that Ivor might have discussed the details with Kate. “Please, Kate, tell me.” He looked around to make sure no one could hear them and leant closer in. “Quietly.”

Kate leant in too, her heart hammering at being so close to him as she whispered what she knew. “That there was no baby.”

“He told you that?” Their eyes met and held as he tried to wrestle with this information.

“He was devastated for Roman,” Kate said. “I don’t think he even wanted to tell me but he broke down…”

“He trusted you.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Kate said and then leant back, the near contact making her slightly dizzy or was it that she had finished her drink?

There was a small break in the conversation as his meal was delivered and her drink was replaced with another.

“I’ll have a coffee please,” Kate said. “I really do need to get home, Isaak.”

“Of course.”

He loaded his fork with a delectable looking piece of beef and added pastry and then some of the creamiest, buttery mashed potato and Kate licked her lips. He popped the fork into his mouth and gave a small groan that had her stomach fold, though not in hunger—there was something so carnal to his pleasure. “So good,” Isaak said and loaded his fork with the same care he had before and then held it out to her. “Taste?”

“No!”

Isaak startled at her frown and her shrill decline but then gave a low laugh. “Sorry, I forget I am with a lady, usually I like to taste from the other’s plate, you know…”

No, Kate didn’t know.

She wanted to though.

Heaven help her, she took another sip of brandy as Isaak finally started to discuss the real reason she was here.

That she knew about his brother appeased him and told him that nothing would go further, for clearly she hadn’t discussed it with anyone but Ivor and himself. “The press are making my brother’s life hell,” Isaak said. “A wedding would be a very good idea.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I were to marry, the focus would move to me. Roman doesn’t want the press to find out about Ava.”

“I can understand that,” Kate nodded.

“Also, I have been having a few issues with the press myself. I am tired of my own reputation, a year lying low sounds good to me.”

“Lying low?” She was starting—just starting—to fathom where this might be leading. “Isaak…”

“Just listen to me for a moment,” he said. “Your family still needs money, I could use a quiet year, and Roman certainly—”

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Why not?” Isaak said, loading his fork again “The terms would be the same as the contract.”

“No.”

“So what’s your solution then?” Isaak asked. “Because you surely need one. I’ve run the contract past my lawyer and his suggestion is that I apply to the court for a freeze on all your family’s assets. This seems a friendlier solution.”

For a moment there he had seemed friendly, now Kate was reminded of the power of the man.

“Is there a ladies room?” she asked and Isaak nodded and pointed to the corridor they had come from.

As Kate got up, Isaak watched her walk just a little unsteadily towards it.

One drink and she was half pissed, Isaak smiled, then glanced at her glass. Make that two drinks, but even so…

She was cute, Isaak decided. Buttoned up, prim but very, very cute. And then he imagined her unbuttoned and smiling at him from the pillow.

Yes, this could be a very pleasant year.

Kate was very grateful for a leather seat in the plush ladies room. She looked in a full-length mirror at her mostly pale face but her cheeks were on fire and her panic was mounting as she called her mother.

“I’ve been speaking with Isaak Zaretsky.” Kate could hardly get the words out, even her voice seemed to be shaking. “He’s talking about freezing assets…”

“What the hell have you done!” Instantly her mother was accusatory, as if this hellish mess was all Kate’s fault. “Your father must be turning in his grave, he loved that business, it was his life.”

“Mum, please, listen…”

“No, Kate, you listen. You got us into this mess, you can get us out.”

“The business was a disaster long before I came up with this,” Kate attempted to point out.

“Of course it was a disaster, thanks to you turning your back when we needed you the most.”

Kate faltered trying to reset the guilt switch that had just tripped, but her mother was relentless. “You’re the one with the history degree, Kate. Your father passed so much of his knowledge on to you, it would kill him again if he knew the business was going under and that you simply walked away—” And then her mother truly panicked. “I’m not losing my home!”

“Isaak says that I can marry him instead,” Kate interrupted and she closed her eyes, silently pleading for her mother to say that was a ridiculous suggestion and she didn’t have to consider it.

“Would you get the next installments if you did?”

Kate opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. The shock at her mother’s response had caused all the color to drain from her face. Even her lips were white. “Mum…” Kate’s voice was a soft beg. “I don’t even know the man.”

Silence was her mother’s response.

Kate sat there recalling the most shameful day of her life. A day when her own mother had said that Kate would one day end up as a whore and now she was practically making her one.

“Would you get the next instalment?” her mother asked again.

“Yes,” she croaked and listened to her mother’s sigh of relief. Kate rung off and shakily stood.

She would not let Isaak see her terror, so she took a deep cleansing breath and then walked to the mirror. Her cheeks were bright red now, as if her mother’s cold hands had just slapped them again. Kate looked herself in the eyes and, a decade later, repeated her response to her mother’s filthy prediction. “You’re wrong,” Kate said, mustering the same conviction she had that terrible day. “I’ll never be a whore.”

When she returned a coffee was waiting for her and so too was Isaak.

“So,” Isaak said when she took a seat back at the table. “Will you attend the funeral with me tomorrow as my fiancé?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You had a choice as to whether or not you signed the contract,” he pointed out.

“I signed the contract with a man I both respected and admired,” Kate said but Isaak ignored the slight and responded in Russian.

“Niznaya brodo, new sui zio vwodo.”

“And what does that mean?” Kate challenged, her mind still searching for a way out.

“If you don’t know how deep the river is, don’t step in,” Isaak translated. “There is no getting out of it, you either repay the money or the marriage goes ahead. Anyway, surely I am a better prospect than my uncle.”

“Meaning?”

He just smiled at the blush that spread up her neck and met her rosy cheeks. “I see you have had all the necessary health checks; I shan’t put you through that again. I will go and have the tests.”

“Tests?”

“It will be nice,” Isaak mused, “not having to worry about condoms for once.”

He thought her a whore too.

He had her backed into a corner but what Isaak did not know was that, when backed into a corner, Kate came out fighting in her very own way.

She was no pushover and there was a way out. It was then Kate saw it—there was no place in the contract that specified they must have sex. It merely stated that they share a bed while staying at a hotel and Ivor had said it was just for appearances’ sake.

Her head felt as if was spinning as it moved towards giddy relief.

She could pay her family debts one final time and she knew, absolutely she knew, that Isaak would be the one terminating the contract, possibly as soon as their wedding night! When he found out that sex wouldn’t be occurring, he would ask for an annulment, Kate was sure. Even if he didn’t end it that quickly, the clause in the contract that specified no straying would soon prove a problem. Not for Kate—she could very happily survive a celibate year but if Isaak’s reputation was anything to go by, then she would be free from the contract any time soon.

“Could I still work?” She checked, for that had only been a verbal agreement between herself and Ivor. “I love my job and I don’t want to quit.”

“Of course you cannot work.” Isaak said. “I expect you to be busy in the kitchen preparing my okroshka.” He saw her frown, “Okroshka?”

“Cold soup,” Isaak said. “And I cannot abide it. I was joking.”

His small joke did not turn her taut lips, and Isaak took her hand and he prised open her fingers, placed the ring in her palm, and then closed her fingers around it.

“Of course you can work,” he said, his voice softer now. “You are not being sentenced to a year in prison.”

Kate just sat there.

“Sleep on it. Right now I will get you home.”

He saw her right to her door and as she opened it, his hand came on her shoulder and she jumped in nervous tension. “I’ll be here at ten.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You haven’t said no though,” Isaak pointed out.