Maisey Yates - His Diamond of Convenience

“If what I’ve heard is true, you want to launch this charity for children. But no one trusts you to be involved in anything concerning children. Because, let’s face it, who would have you spearheading a charity for children ? You are, by all accounts, cantankerous, ill-tempered, foul-mouthed and hot-headed. Did I miss anything?”

Dmitri took a step toward her and took a great amount of satisfaction in watching her shrink a bit. “Yes. I’m also something of a womaniser. That doesn’t help my cause. I mean, what with all the rumors flying around about how I meet a woman, take her to dinner and have her naked, between my sheets and screaming my name in only a couple of hours—”

Victoria held up a hand, clearly irritated with the line of dialogue. “I could solve your problems,” she said, twisting the subject expertly.

“By marrying me?”

“I wouldn’t actually have to marry you. I would simply need to hang on your arm for a while, then wear your ring for a while after that. Long enough to get things going.”

“You have thought this through.” And she had ambushed him, with no warning at all. A smart woman. Were she a burly man and not a fine-boned female she might have made an excellent fighter.

A worthy opponent.

But if Victoria wanted to beard the lion in his den she would have to accept the consequences.

MAISEY YATESis the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online, and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: www.maiseyyates.com

His Diamond of Convenience

Maisey Yates

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Pippa,

because you’ve loved Victoria since she first appeared. Thank you for all of your support, now and always.

Contents

Cover

Introduction “If what I’ve heard is true, you want to launch this charity for children. But no one trusts you to be involved in anything concerning children. Because, let’s face it, who would have you spearheading a charity for children ? You are, by all accounts, cantankerous, ill-tempered, foul-mouthed and hot-headed. Did I miss anything?” Dmitri took a step toward her and took a great amount of satisfaction in watching her shrink a bit. “Yes. I’m also something of a womaniser. That doesn’t help my cause. I mean, what with all the rumors flying around about how I meet a woman, take her to dinner and have her naked, between my sheets and screaming my name in only a couple of hours—” Victoria held up a hand, clearly irritated with the line of dialogue. “I could solve your problems,” she said, twisting the subject expertly. “By marrying me?” “I wouldn’t actually have to marry you. I would simply need to hang on your arm for a while, then wear your ring for a while after that. Long enough to get things going.” “You have thought this through.” And she had ambushed him, with no warning at all. A smart woman. Were she a burly man and not a fine-boned female she might have made an excellent fighter. A worthy opponent. But if Victoria wanted to beard the lion in his den she would have to accept the consequences.

About the Author MAISEY YATES is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online, and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: www.maiseyyates.com

Title Page His Diamond of Convenience Maisey Yates www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For Pippa, because you’ve loved Victoria since she first appeared. Thank you for all of your support, now and always.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Extract Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Copyright Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

CHAPTER ONE

VICTORIA INTENSELY DISLIKED places like this. Gyms with boxing rings, hanging punching bags and various other accoutrements. The lighting was dim, casting everything in a dull shadow. It was probably for the best, all things considered, else it might reveal the stains from dirt, blood and whatever else that undoubtedly lingered on the canvas. The air smelled of sweat, of testosterone. And she could truly think of nothing less appealing.

The entire place, and all of its inhabitants, needed to be hosed down.

If it wasn’t absolutely necessary she find Dmitri Markin, she would never have stepped foot in here.

She ran her hand over her hair, checking to see that everything was still in place, then walked forward, her high heels loud on the concrete floor as she strode through the workout area, studiously ignoring the male gazes that were following her progress through the room.

These were not the male gazes she was looking for. And therefore, she was uninterested.

Oily muscles did nothing for her. Thank you very much.

Not unless she needed a heavy box lifted. Then oily muscles could certainly serve a purpose, but not aesthetically. Not in her world.

One of the men she walked past whistled and she felt her muscles tense, starting at the base of her skull and spreading downward, her shoulders bunching up as the tension bled outward.

She didn’t give the man the satisfaction of pausing, neither did she look at him. Rather, she ratcheted her chin up a notch and forged ahead, tightening her hold on her purse and keeping her strides even.

Over the years she had become something of a challenge to men. They knew she had a reputation for keeping herself separate, for keeping herself distant. And that made her a temptation, apparently, which was just one more reason she had to disdain the gender. Which was potentially unfair of her, but she didn’t care.

In the interest of maintaining the family peace and getting back in her father’s good books, she had at one time entertained the idea of making a suitable marriage. And in her mind, and the mind of her father, a suitable marriage meant marriage to royalty. Yet it had failed spectacularly. Because when she had managed to secure herself a royal fiancé, he had gone on to fall in love with their matchmaker.

Which had put her back at square one. Focusing on her charities and on raising her family’s profile in the media.

Until she had found out that Dmitri Markin had something she wanted. And that he wanted something she had.

Now she had a whole new plan for fixing the pain she caused her family. And it would be a whole lot better than marrying a prince. Assuming she could accomplish it. And she would. Because she didn’t fail. Not anymore.

She had the chance to atone for past sins. She’d spotted this open door, so she was walking through it.

Right at the moment she was thinking of metaphorical doors, she walked through a literal door and into the back of the gym. This was a private training room, so she had been told when she had inquired about Dmitri’s haunts. And just as she had been informed, by the curvaceous redhead she had met at a party earlier in the week, Dmitri was here, grappling with another man.

They were both shirtless, in black pants, fighting as if their lives depended on it. She sniffed. Silly. Their lives certainly did not depend on it.

Men .

She recognized Dmitri immediately. He was larger than his opponent, well muscled and sporting an armful of ink. She didn’t know what the symbols were, or what they represented; she only knew that, were the tabloids to be believed, they were the sort of thing that caused a lot of women to swoon.

Not her. She was not given to swooning.

To her, they were merely beneficial because they helped her to identify her target sooner.

She stopped walking, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and cocking her hip to the right. “Dmitri Markin?”

He wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist, bent and flipped the other man over his shoulder, letting him land flat on his back on the mats. Then Dmitri straightened and turned to face her, hands on his lean hips, his chest pitching with the effort of his breathing. Sweat rolled down his skin, skating over his ab muscles and drawing her eye toward the waistband of his shorts. Toward the line of hair that continued down farther beneath the fabric.

Heat assaulted her and she redirected her gaze quickly. And that didn’t help at all, because as distracting as his body was, well, his face wasn’t any better.

A ripple of unease went through her. Photographs hadn’t prepared her for the sheer magnetism he presented. An element she hadn’t accounted for.

The realization made her stomach squeeze tight, apprehension winding through her. She was momentarily shocked, turned to stone, by the man standing before her.

Considering what he’d done for a living it wouldn’t be outside the norm for his face to be a living record of every punch he’d taken. A time line of his years spent in the ring. But no. He didn’t have the decency to be deformed. His dark hair was rumpled in a near-stylish manner, dark eyes glimmering with humor. His nose had a bump in it, likely from being broken, and it only made him look...rakish, not disfigured. How annoying. Then there was the deep groove in his upper lip, likely a badly healed split, so that his mouth gave the impression he was always sneering slightly, even when he was smiling. That was rakish, too.

A shiver ran through her and she fought to keep from showing the evidence of it on her face. She needed to secure this deal. So that the rift between her and her father could be stitched back together. So that she could finally move on with her life.

She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not when she was so close.