The Platinum Collection: A Convenient Proposal. Maisey Yates

word was just slightly flat, still colored by a hint of Russian accent, though it was faded after long years of living in the UK. “Unless,” he said, a slow smile crossing his lips, “you are looking for a chance to challenge me on the mats.”

      She gripped the strap of her purse tighter. “That’s quite funny. Do you often have women coming to challenge you on the mats?”

      The smile broadened, turned wicked, and her stomach turned over, twisted. She gritted her teeth and fought to maintain her composure. “More often than you might think.”

      She cleared her throat. “Excellent. Charming. That is, however, not why I’m here.”

      “Well, if it is legitimate business, an appointment is typically made.” He looked her over, his gaze leaving a trail of heat behind. She tried to get her focus back. Tried to recite her plan in her head. Envision her goal. She could not be deterred. “There is a certain type of woman who shows up unannounced. If you have legitimate business I suggest you call my secretary and make an appointment. Otherwise, take off your dress.”

      She ignored the rough command. She also ignored the rush of heat that came along with it. He was expecting her to get all flustered. She was certain. And she would not give him the satisfaction. At least, she wouldn’t show it, but the wild thumping of her heart made her think flustered was exactly what she was whether she wanted to be or not.

      She swallowed hard and met his eyes. “I’ll keep the dress on, thanks. Shall we adjourn to a more comfortable setting?”

      “I am perfectly comfortable. And I was not expecting to have a meeting. Therefore, I will stay here.”

      The man he had been fighting had risen to his feet now and was standing there looking at the two of them. “Then perhaps you might ask him to leave,” Victoria said.

      “Because you’re going to take the dress off?”

      She cleared her throat, schooling her expression into one of disdain, ignoring the prickling feeling on the back of her neck. “Sadly for you, no. You can let go of that fantasy quickly. The dress isn’t coming off until I get home and step into a nice warm bath, which, after the harassment I’ve endured today, is well deserved. I’m staying dressed. And we need to have a discussion.”

      “It sounds like I might be in trouble. But I have never slept with you, so I don’t see why I should be. I have not caused you any trouble. Yet.”

      She gritted her teeth. He was really pulling out all the stops. Fortunately it was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. Typically the man wasn’t shirtless. Typically he was not quite so good-looking. But neither of those things mattered, not to her. “Either he goes or I go,” she said, keeping her tone bored. “And I have a feeling you want to hear what I have to say.”

      Dmitri cocked his head to the side, a small smile curving one side of his mouth. “Nigel, leave us for moment.” The other man nodded and walked out. Then Dmitri turned his focus to her. “Speak.”

      She readjusted her hold on her bag, her palms feeling sweaty now. “I am not a dog, nor indeed am I any type of pet. Rephrase.”

      He chuckled, a dark sound that poured over her like melting honey. That made her shiver. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what you came here to tell me so that I can go take my shower?”

      Her patience was wearing thin. She was still standing in the sweaty gym and, frankly, his bare chest was having more of an effect on her than she would like. Was making her feel as if there was a gaping hole in her plan. All of that was conspiring to put her in a very cranky mood. And that was the only thing that could account for the words that came out of her mouth next.

      “All right, Mr. Markin. I just came here to ask you a question. Will you marry me?”

      * * *

      Dmitri looked at the powerhouse blonde standing in front of him. She was pale, with slim curves, long, lean legs and an expression that could make a lesser man wilt where he stood. And if the look of her didn’t accomplish it, that crisp English accent, so posh it made a man feel as if he ought to put on a tie before he could speak to her, would.

      He, however, was not a lesser man and was therefore not wilting. Not in the least. And he wasn’t putting on a damned tie.

      “Sorry, you might have had better luck with the proposal if you had taken the dress off.”

      “Cheap thrills are your thing, then?” she asked, arching a finely shaped brow.

      He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I like a cheap thrill. Though, these days I can afford an expensive thrill, too. But honestly, why not just embrace every thrill available?” He looked her over again, taking in every curved line, every enticingly female part of her. “I would have picked you for an expensive thrill. But as you’ve price checked yourself...”

      “You’ll find me short on thrills, Mr. Markin,” she said, her voice biting. “Unless what I have to offer you is a thrill—and do not get too excited. It has nothing to do with bare skin.”

      “Marriage usually does have something to do with bare skin. It is the only reason I can see anyone would enter into the union. Though, I’ve found my share outside of it.”

      “Which could be part of why you’re having such a hard time finding support for your charity.”

      The back of his neck prickled. “How did you know about that?”

      The charity he was working on establishing in Colvin’s name was not common knowledge. Yes, he’d approached a few people about it, but he’d told those people to be discreet. The reactions had all been the same, too.

      He would need support. Because a man with a reputation for driving too fast, sleeping with too many women, a man who had earned his fortune in the ring...would have his efforts met with cynicism.

      And he could not afford to have a negative reaction. Colvin was dead. There would be no paying him back in this life. But he could show the world what the other man had done for him. Offer choices to children who were in the position he had once been in.

      Choices he had never had. Control that had been wrenched from him on a cold day in Moscow.

      “I always have an ear to the ground,” Victoria said, “plus, I have sat on the board for a great many charities over the years and have quite a few connections. I use those connections to my advantage.”

      “How does supporting a kids’ charity benefit you?”

      She blinked wide blue eyes slowly. “What do you mean? I’m only thinking of the children.”

      He swore crudely in Russian and laughed. “Right. I’m sure you are.”

      “I take it you don’t believe me?”

      “Do I believe the Ice Princess is thinking of the children? No. You would have to emanate some warmth before I would believe that.”

      She let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. Too busy to emanate today I’m afraid. Perhaps another time. However, I assure you I approach my charity work with complete dedication. But I save my passion for my work, so none for you, I’m afraid. Now, about my proposal...”

      “Why did you propose?”

      She lifted a brow. “It was love at first sight?”

      “No.”

      She leveled her gaze, meeting his, her eyes alight with determination. “I want London Diva back.”

      He frowned at the mention of one of his holdings. “Excuse me?”

      “London Diva. I want the company signed back over to my family.”

      “Calder,” he said, repeating her name. Of course he hadn’t made the immediate connection. He’d bought the chain of high-end retail stores out from under Nathan Barrett a few years back, but he knew it had been founded by Geoffrey Calder some thirty