The Platinum Collection: A Convenient Proposal: His Diamond of Convenience / The Highest Price to Pay / His Ring Is Not Enough

“Because I’m not shirtless and dripping with sweat?”

She swallowed hard. “Perhaps. Perhaps it is that.” It was, partly. Because the wilder parts of him were so well concealed right now, and she rather admired those parts.

Not because they matched her in any way, but because they so weren’t her. Because they were so far from her reality. They were like everything good and lush. Refreshing in a dry wasteland of parties, crystalline conversation and self-denial, of which she had grown exceedingly weary.

Just then she felt very tired. Tired of being good. Tired of the long road to atonement. Tired of being afraid.

Tired, quite frankly, of being a virgin.

She would do anything right at this moment to go back to the moment on the balcony when his hand had skimmed over her curves and she had felt nothing but desire. When she had felt no guilt, no trepidation, nothing but need. When the voices in her head had been completely blocked out in favor of the heat that was coursing through her body.

And her mind was back on the cuff that was in the cloakroom in her bag.

No.

“So—” she snagged a glass of champagne from the nearby tray “—how do you find the party so far?”

“It is going well. I’m not particularly looking forward to giving my speech, but I feel prepared.”

“You are prepared.” Much more prepared than she had imagined he could be for something like this.

“And you look surprised.”

“I am, perhaps, a little bit surprised.”

“Don’t be—this was your idea.”

She looked away from him. “I suppose my surprise comes from the fact that you listened to me.”

“Well, I did enlist your services. And your hand.”

She lifted her hand, causing the yellow diamond on her finger, which she was starting to like, to glisten in the light. “More like I enlisted yours,” she said.

“But I agreed that you could be of use.”

“Oh. That’s nice. I’m of use,” she said, lowering her hand.

“Not exactly the use I’m hoping for yet.”

“Stop,” she said, ignoring the flush of pleasure that went through her. She should be angry at him. She should not find him sexy.

The music stopped playing, and the emcee running the event went to the front of the room and started doing an introduction for Dmitri.

For some reason her stomach went tight. It wasn’t possible she was nervous for him, was it?

No, not that. She was nervous because she needed it to go well. Because he needed to say the right thing, or else all of this would be pointless. She was here to help him, and she really did want this to succeed. She didn’t like failing, even when the cause wasn’t hers.

Dmitri downed the rest of his champagne quickly, then set the glass down on the table next to them. Unthinkingly, she reached up and straightened his tie, her fingertips brushing his skin just above his shirt collar, sending lightning shooting through her. She cleared her throat. “You’ll do fine.”

A smile curved his lips, and yet she could see that he was strained. “Of course I will. I win every fight I step into.”

He walked away from her toward the front of the room, taking his position on the stage. And then he began to speak.

“I would like to thank you all for coming here tonight. I would like to thank most especially my beautiful fiancée, Victoria Calder, for arranging such a civilized event. If left to my own devices you would all be eating cocktail weenies from a buffet.” That line elicited laughter from the audience. “I am not known for my sophistication and manners—that much is true. What I am best known for is my fighting. Times have changed for me—my life has changed. But what has not changed is the foundation I was built on. Things that I learned under the mentorship of Colvin Davis. A native of New Orleans, Colvin came to London to change his fortune, then he traveled to Russia looking for champion fighters and found...me. A disappointment, I would think. But he saw my potential. What happened after that changed life for both of us.” He shifted his position at the podium, and Victoria held her breath, willing him to keep talking. To keep going. To keep fighting. She could see his discomfort, but she imagined the audience didn’t. He had a good mask. But she knew him well enough to see beyond it. When had that happened? And why?

He continued. “The values he instilled in me were the values that enabled me to become not only an award-winning fighter, but a successful businessman. He gave me control when I had none. He helped me manage my anger when anger was all I had. He gave me life when before all I had was survival. This is what I want to offer the children who come to the gyms I hope to establish with this charity. A place with mentors, a place for them to learn patience. To learn to protect themselves. And the values to know when to use it. An important part of martial arts is the control you learn along with it, and it is that control that changed my life. I hope you will allow me to pass this on to others. I hope you will allow me to change life for these children the way it was changed for me. I hope you will be moved to give generously.”

It was completely silent in the room, not even the sound of clinking cutlery on plates breaking the reverie that had settled over them. “I know my reputation has not always been exemplary. I have enjoyed my fame, my money. Coming from poverty, having access to so many new things...it turned my head. But Colvin brought me from the darkness, and without him I would not be here standing before you. And without Victoria Calder I would not be here tonight.” He gestured toward her and all eyes were now on her. She smiled, easily, never finding it a challenge to play to a crowd. And yet, this felt different. This was affecting something in her chest, making her feel things. For him. And she would use it now. Use it to make this look real. He was lying now, giving her credit where none was due, and he was doing it to lend validity to a charity that was coming from his heart, not hers. She wouldn’t fail him now. It seemed essential somehow. As if this moment was pivotal. As if it somehow overshadowed the mistakes of the past, the present large and full, more important than it had been in years. With the past looming large and the future her hope, now was so often lost. But not in this moment.

“It is she who inspired me to take what assisted me in bringing it to the world. She who inspired me to use my gifts to help others. I will stop boring you now. Enjoy your dinner, enjoy your dancing, enjoy your evening.”

There were applause and Dmitri walked down from the stage, making a beeline for the back of the room, and for her.

Victoria was about to say something to him, about to compliment him on his performance, when the band began to play again.

He did not let her speak. Instead, he extended his hand to her. She took it and she found herself being drawn in close to his body.

“And now, my dearest fiancée,” he said, “I think you should dance with me.”

She should have been the one to suggest dancing, considering she was supposed to be the bastion of manners and grace. She had not expected for Dmitri to be the one to make that overture. But then, she had not expected he could look so good in a suit. So, he seemed to be offering up surprises all over the place.

She smiled, acutely aware that all eyes were on them. “Of course.”

She allowed him to lead her out to the center of the dance floor, forced herself to relax against his body as he pulled her into his arms. Her breath caught as he leaned in, his breath fanning over her cheek. “I should like to avoid as much social interaction as possible.”

She let out a nervous laugh, strangely disappointed by the fact that his asking her to dance was merely a diversion. Because he had made such a romantic statement in his speech, she had no doubt that they would not be interrupted out here on the dance floor. People would be content to simply watch them lost in their apparent bubble of love.

“A room with five hundred people may not be the best venue for solitude.”

He placed his hand on her lower back, tightening his hold on her. “Perhaps. But this is what we came here to do, isn’t it?” he asked.

“And so far, I think we have done it very well.” She didn’t know why, but she wanted to reassure him. Perhaps because she knew that giving the speech had been outside his comfort zone, and yet he had done it.

“A compliment?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Their dancing was little more than swaying to the music while holding each other, and she found it slightly disconcerting. Because it seemed rather less like dancing as an activity and rather more like something people chose to do if they wanted to touch each other in public and could not think of another socially acceptable way to accomplish that.

“You have a way of taking a tone that sounds a bit like a disapproving schoolmistress.”

“Not the sort of mistress I’m supposed to appear to be.”

“I think not.” He lifted his hand and cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re supposed to appear to be the sort of mistress who warms my bed, not one who sends me to bed alone without supper.”

“It’s a good thing that we are putting on a very convincing show, then,” she said, looking away from him to try to gauge the reactions of those still sitting at the tables. He tightened his grip on her chin, preventing her from keeping her focus away from him.

“Perhaps you should give me a kiss.”