Bought For Her Innocence. Tara Pammi

were quite another. With lush breasts and narrow hips that swayed with every step she took, from the way she tucked that tumbling jet-black hair behind her ear to the pouty mouth that came from no injection, Jasmine was not simply beautiful, but stunningly sexy.

      Was that the reason for that ridiculous auction? Had some man coveted her because of those Arab genes that she had inherited from an absentee father, and Noah had turned it to his advantage? What horrific scheme had she caught herself in?

      Round jet-black eyes, dark arched eyebrows that suited perfectly those big eyes, a sharp, bladelike nose and a pointed chin.

      There was not an ounce of extra flesh on her face, giving her a lean, sharp look. As if every bone in that face had been sculpted by years of hunger and sleepless nights. Her hair, jet-black and thickly curling, was pulled back tightly, exaggerating the feral sharpness of her features. One curl dangled alongside a sharply defined jawline.

      There was an alert look in her eyes even now, just as there had been in that warehouse. The straight, tense line of her shoulders, her sharp breaths... He realized how alien this was to her.

       How alien he was to her...

      When he had seen her five years ago, she had barely turned eighteen, and had looked nothing like this...except for that wary distrust.

      It had been there then, too. But where she had barely glanced at him then, her bold gaze drank him in today.

      He had never experienced such a thorough, artless appraisal. Women came on to him all the time and he enjoyed it, but Jasmine’s searing gaze was more than basic female curiosity.

      It was as though she was looking for something, or someone. And instead of that shallow echo he was so used to, he felt something inside him vibrate in response to her look.

      As if a part of him that had lain dormant and unfeeling for so long suddenly uncoiled itself at the sight of her. Dangerously tempting and thoroughly unwise... He wondered how to distance himself from it.

      Because as hungry as he’d been to feel something like that, he had nothing to give her.

      “No one would know you were from the streets,” she said with a brittleness that he wouldn’t have associated with her.

      “And why do you sound as if that’s the worst thing in the world, Jasmine?” He would not call her Jas even though it fluttered on his tongue. Which was strange, because how could a woman’s name have so much power over him? “It’s a pit of desperation and addiction and violence. Why should I ever want to look as if I belonged there once? Why should anyone who had a chance to get out of there still cling to it?” Steel resonated in his voice at the end there but he couldn’t help it.

      Her eyelashes fluttered, and he had a feeling she was trying to calm herself down. She failed. When she looked at him, she fairly bristled with aggressiveness. “Of course not. And God forbid anything stand in the way of you leaving the past behind, Dmitri, anything even remotely dirty and poor taint your extravagant lifestyle now.”

      He pushed off the wall, furious energy burning through his veins. Instantly, she flattened herself against the wall. And the startled look in her eyes more than anything calmed him down.

      Let her think what she wants, he told himself.

      He had never cared what the world thought of him. Why would he care about what Jasmine said? But he couldn’t allow her to taunt him like that; he couldn’t allow her to think even for a second that she knew him.

      He turned all the energy in him into cutting scorn, delivering it in a silky-smooth tone. “Before you castigate me for wanting out of that life, let’s not forget how this night started, thee mou. Let’s not forget whose money and power saved whose ass in this story, ne?

      “Maybe you believe your life is not valuable enough to get out of there, but I will not feel guilty for thinking mine is. Nor will I feel guilty about enjoying the fruits of my hard labor. Giannis might have—”

      “Pulled you out of the hellhole that was our life, but I know that it was you and your friend...”

      “Stavros Sporades,” he added.

      “That it was you two that put his textile company on the global map, especially when everything else is folding in this economy,” she added, as if she was offering him recompense for angering him. “I have followed your—” he had a feeling she wouldn’t say the actual word that she wanted to “—success the past few years.”

      And suddenly, it was as though a hard fist jammed into his throat. She had known he was rich, then. She had known that he could have helped. Even as she refused to admit it, she had known, all along, that he would come if she asked.

      And yet, she had waited so long... Which night would have made it too long?

      Fury, reminding him of broken bones and painful fists, flew hot through him. “Have you? Gratifying to know that I held your interest for so many years, pethi mou. And a little shocking that you have somehow lost the good sense I thought you possessed.”

      The lift opened just then and he walked out without checking to see if she followed.

      * * *

      By the time she walked past the dramatic reception hall into the sitting lounge of the suite, Jasmine felt numb to the extravagance of her surroundings.

      It was a toss-up between the electricity that burned between Dmitri and her and the reach of his wealth and sphere.

      A finely carved wood and marble fireplace dominated the lounge, which was decorated with black leather furniture.

      Her running shoes sank into the thick carpet with a soft hiss.

      Jasmine had barely caught her breath when a woman walked into the lounge. Her hair was mussed around her fragile, sleep-ruffled face, her long legs bared in shorts.

      “Dmitri?” she whispered, her shocked glance taking in the both of them. “You took so long...”

      “Leah? What are you doing here?” The concern in Dmitri’s voice was as unmistakable as the lacerating sarcasm when he addressed Jasmine.

      Suddenly, being a spectator to a romantic reunion between Dmitri and his latest girlfriend was the last thing Jasmine wanted to be.

      The woman crossed the last few steps, genuine worry etched on her brow. Dmitri enfolded her so gently that it sent a pang through Jasmine. “When you were taking so long, he dropped me off here. He’s been calling every fifteen minutes...” Her gasp pierced through Jasmine.

      “Dmitri, you’re bleeding.” With that, Leah clicked her cell phone on and left the room.

      The sharp hiss of his exhale, the way he had held himself so rigidly on the bike... Her gut heaving, Jasmine turned him around roughly and lifted his leather jacket.

      A patch of red stained the tear on his pristine white shirt around his abdomen, a stark contrast against the rest of it.

      Jasmine stared at the dried blood and the way the shirt clung to his skin. Bile filled her throat as the metallic scent washed over her. Shivers set forth from the base of her spine. As if her attacking Dmitri when he had come to save her was the last straw...

      Pressing her hand to her forehead, she tried to breathe past the rawness in her throat. “I could have killed you... I thought John would sneak in in the middle of the night and I was just being cautious... I never...”

      “I did not ask why you attacked me,” he said in that monotone voice again. He sounded angrier at her being upset than that she had wounded him. “Theos, I don’t care that you tried to protect yourself. I care that you have led a life that requires that you sleep with a knife under your pillow.”

      She flinched at the disgust in his words.

      For as long as she had known, men had only looked at her cheaply, with lust glimmering in their eyes. And once she had started working her current job four years ago, it