Trusting A Stranger. Melinda Di Lorenzo

be a thief like her husband, but we’re not talking about someone with the background or the connections to go head-to-head with Solokov. She’s an interior decorator. She finds pretty things to fill the homes of rich people. Some of those rich people might be able to help her, but even if they could, what happened to her godfather would probably give them second thoughts.”

      “There’s no chance our government will grant her some kind of asylum?”

      “On what grounds? She’s not a target of political persecution, at least not in any way that would qualify. Besides, a Russian diplomat was murdered on American soil. The U.S. government is not about to interfere with anything the Russians want at the moment, and right now, they want her shipped back to Moscow.”

      “Where she’ll be completely at Solokov’s mercy.”

      Jensen’s eyes grew shrewd. “No doubt. Something I’m sure she knows, too. Which may be why she became involved with you. Maybe she’s looking for someone to marry her so she can stay in the country.”

      “She’s not like that,” Luke said automatically, somehow managing to keep the irony out of his tone.

      “She’s not, huh? Then why do I get the feeling you knew most of this before I told you? Was it because she told you? Maybe she already asked you to marry her to save her. Or is that an idea you came up with on your own because you want to save her since you’re so ‘very involved’?”

      With practiced ease, Luke let the words bounce off him, not letting a single muscle twitch or blink of the eye give the slightest indication Jensen’s comments had hit home. Odd to think that Jensen was right, and yet hadn’t even managed to come up with the real way this had all come about. That was how outlandish it was.

      Luke shot the man a wry smile. “Does that sound like something I would do?”

      He waited to see how the man would respond, a test run of how someone who knew him would react to the idea.

      For a long moment, Jensen simply looked at him, his eyes assessing, his expression considering.

      Luke simply stared back.

      Then Jensen’s expression eased, his lips working into a smile of his own. “No, I guess not. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t thought of it.”

      “I told you, she’s not like that.”

      “Uh-huh,” Jensen said into his coffee cup, his disbelief coming across loud and clear despite the muffled sound. “But seriously, you need to rethink your involvement with this woman. No good can come of it. Trust me, you do not want to be involved in this.”

      No, Luke agreed silently, his heart sinking, he didn’t. Unfortunately, he already was.

      The biggest question was why. The world was full of sad stories and people in desperate situations. All he had to do was watch five minutes of the news to see them every day. He’d never been remotely inspired to come to the aid of any of them. But now he was faced with this woman, asking something that wasn’t in any way reasonable for one person to ask of another.

      And the “no” that should rise to his tongue so easily failed to come.

      Perhaps it was because the problem had been so directly laid at his feet. There wasn’t a question of what might happen or the possibility that someone else might pick up the ball and run with it if he failed to. Viktor had brought the situation to him and laid it out in a way that left him little choice.

      If you don’t do this, she will die.

      It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care about her. He still didn’t really. But that didn’t mean he could live with this woman’s death on his hands. Didn’t mean he could stand by and essentially kill the last member of Viktor’s family.

      “You know better than anyone that blood is not a requirement for family.”

      As much as he didn’t want to be involved, as much as he wanted to say no, as much as it would surprise anyone who thought they knew him, it seemed he wasn’t quite cold enough to allow that to happen.

      THE SOUND OF THE DOORBELL came out of nowhere, the noise loud and jarring, scraping against Karina’s already-raw nerves. Seated on the couch in Viktor’s living room, she sent a nervous glance toward the hall to the entryway. She knew there was little chance Solokov’s people would come right up to the front door and ring the bell, but there were other threats that might. Threats that seemed even more imminent at the moment. Government officials. Immigration officers there to send her home.

      To Russia.

      To Solokov.

      She waited nervously as Viktor made his way to the door, waited for his reaction to whatever he found there.

      “It’s Luke,” he said, no doubt for her benefit, before she heard him open the door.

      The announcement did nothing to reassure her. Instead, it only served to intensify the tension gripping her insides. She’d barely slept last night, the cold, unyielding face of a stranger looming too large in her mind. She and Viktor had both been waiting for a telephone call, expecting Luke Hubbard to deliver his answer that way. She didn’t know what it meant that he’d instead chosen to come here himself, a mere day after hearing their request. Did it mean he’d decided to do it, or that he’d simply come to deliver the bad news himself, having the courtesy of telling them in person? What did it mean that he’d chosen so fast? And what answer did she really want to hear?

      Karina rose slowly from her seat, feeling not as though she were about to face an attorney, but a judge, one prepared to deliver his decision to her fate.

      Luke Hubbard stepped into the room first, his eyes immediately finding hers. He said nothing, simply stared at her. She searched his expression for some sign of what had brought him here, what his decision was. He remained as unreadable as she remembered, his eyes cold as ever.

      Viktor moved into the room behind him. “Well?” he prompted.

      “I want to make a few things clear first.”

      She frowned uncertainly. “Okay.”

      “You have to agree that as soon as the danger to your life is over, we will terminate the marriage.”

      He’s agreeing to the marriage, she thought, the shock so severe she merely felt numb from it. There was no room for relief, or unease, or anything else. The shock was too great.

      “Of course,” Viktor said when she didn’t respond.

      “I need to hear it from her,” Luke said, never taking his eyes off her.

      “Yes,” she made herself say. “I agree.”

      “You’ll sign a prenuptial agreement.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a large brown envelope. “Naturally you should read it first. It guarantees that when the marriage ends, we will each leave it with only what we brought into it.”

      He held out the document to her. She accepted it, scanning over the words on the first page without really seeing them. It hardly mattered what it said. She was only bringing one thing to the marriage and it was all she wanted from it. Her life. To live.

      “Of course.”

      “You’ll have to move into my house immediately after the ceremony to make it believable.”

      “I know.” It was as they’d discussed.

      For a long moment, he simply stared at her again, saying nothing. She wondered if he was changing his mind. He hadn’t agreed yet, not really.

      She held her breath, not certain what she wanted him to say next.

      He nodded sharply. “Then let’s do this.”

      Karina barely had time to react when Viktor clapped his hands. “Good. Now that that’s settled, we can’t waste any more time.”

      “Agreed. We’ll need