A Game with One Winner. Lynn Raye Harris

laughed, and she chided herself for the flood of warmth that dripped down her spine like hot honey. There was a time when his voice over the phone had filled her with illicit urges. She could spend hours on the phone with him then, and had. God knew what they’d found to talk about for so long.

      “So impatient. This was always your problem, solnyshko. Haven’t you ever heard that good things come to those who wait?”

      “Really, Roman,” she scoffed. “Have you taken to speaking in clichés now? Has your English deteriorated? Or perhaps you’re just so busy gobbling up companies that you’ve become too lazy to be more creative.”

      “I have quite a creative mind, I assure you,” he purred into the phone. A lightning bolt of desire shot through her. Her skin grew warm, her body tensing with a sexual ache that made her angry. It was just a voice, for God’s sake!

      “As fun as this is,” Caroline said briskly, “you need to get to the point. I have an important meeting in five minutes.”

      “Actually, you don’t,” he said. “If you are waiting for the bankers, that is.”

      Fear fell over her like a heavy blanket, dousing the electricity stirring in her blood. She didn’t need to ask how Roman knew about her meeting. It was clear he did know, so asking would be a waste of breath.

      “I suppose you wish to tell me something,” she said, cutting straight to it. “Shall I shave my head in preparation for the executioner’s ax? Or did you have a slower, more painful death in mind?”

      “So dramatic, Caroline,” he chided her. “But that is part of your charm.”

      Caroline ground her teeth in frustration. “And your ruthlessness is yours,” she said, so sweetly it made her teeth ache.

      “Ah, you speak to me of ruthlessness? Interesting.”

      Caroline clicked her pen open and closed. Open and closed. “Why is that interesting? You’ve been traveling the globe for the past two years, collecting companies, and still you aren’t satisfied. I’d call that ruthless.”

      “Perhaps not as ruthless as stomping on a man’s heart,” he said evenly. There was no hint of emotion in that voice, no warmth or coolness, and she shuddered involuntarily.

      “As if you haven’t made a second career of breaking women’s hearts,” she said, her pulse thrumming in her throat, her wrists.

      “I learned from the best.”

      Caroline closed her eyes, willing herself to stay focused. He was trying to rattle her—and he was doing a good job. Since the moment she’d seen him last night at that party, she’d been on edge. Fear, stress, anger, regret—they all coiled together in a giant lead ball in her belly.

      “Tell me what you want, Roman,” she said. “Why are you calling me now, and how do you know my meeting is canceled?”

      “I know because I canceled it.”

      Her stomach dropped into her toes. “You canceled it. And how did you manage that?” she asked, though she feared she had a good idea what he was about to say.

      “There is no longer a need to discuss your loans with the bank, solnyshko.”

      “You bought the loans,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. She’d known it was a possibility that someone could buy their debt, but her family had been dealing with Crawford International Bank for years. Her father and Leland Crawford had been golf buddies, and she’d had no reason to think he would ever consider selling the loans without first coming to them.

      The last time she’d seen Leland, he’d assured her he was in their corner. He hadn’t been happy with her father’s sudden “retirement,” though he did not know the reason behind it. No one did, other than her, her mother and Sullivan’s board of directors.

      And she intended to keep it that way. Her family didn’t need the public scrutiny while their loved one suffered from a cruel disease that robbed him of his memory and his life. The board—some of whom had been sitting when she’d still been a little girl in a school uniform—supported her leadership. Leland knew that much, even if he didn’t know the reason. That he would sell the loans without giving her a chance stunned her.

      She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. What was done was done.

      This was a setback, but it wasn’t the end by any stretch.

      “You bought the loans, but you haven’t bought Sullivan’s,” she said fiercely. “We are not in default and you can’t foreclose.”

      Roman laughed again, a soft chuckle that made the hairs on her arms prickle in response. “You are not in default yet.”

      Caroline gripped the phone. Hard. “We won’t default. I promise you that.”

      “Very good, Caroline,” he said. “Fight me. I like a challenge.”

      “Really? I would have thought you preferred your quarry to lie down and roll over before your overwhelming might.”

      “Oh, I like that too. But only when it’s appropriate.”

      Caroline sucked in a breath. How did he manage to infuse such an innocuous statement with blistering sex appeal?

      “I have to go now,” she said tightly. “I have work to do.”

      “Da, you have much to do. And when you are finished for the day, you will join me for dinner.”

      “I think not,” Caroline said, hot anger rising in her throat, flushing her skin with heat. “You bought the loans. You did not buy me.”

      “Think carefully, Caroline,” he growled. “It wouldn’t take much for your suppliers to cut off your line of credit. If that happens, you will surely default. And then I will own it all. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

      “You would go that far?” she said bitterly. “You would interfere with our supply chain in order to win?”

      “I think you already know the answer to your questions.”

      A moment later, the line went dead.