"Uh-huh." He bent to deal with his shoes, taking them off along with his socks. The wooden floor was cool beneath his feet. "I'm sure you'll pull back at the crucial moment."

She was frowning deeply. "Sir..."

He moved past her out into the middle of the room. "Indulge me, sweetheart. Conrad has accepted the stakes. He's going to play tomorrow night. Which means I need to let off a little steam."

The frown vanished, her eyes widening. "He did? But ... your clubs-"

"I'm going to beat him; don't worry about that." Alex grinned at her. "I'm going to take him down and make him beg for mercy. Now, why don't you try the same with me? If you can."

The look on her face cleared, her expression becoming determined.

Ten seconds later he found himself on his back with her forearm over his throat, holding him down with surprising strength. Or maybe not so surprising. He'd felt that same strength in her grip when she'd held his wrist in the chair.

He panted, looking up into her face. She was flushed, the gold flecks in her eyes glittering. Beautiful.

You fucking idiot. What the hell are you doing?

He didn't know. All he knew was that not thinking about the moment she'd closed her eyes and handed her trust to him hadn't worked after all.

That the second she got close, it was all he could think about.

That he wanted her to do it again.

"Let's go again," he said.

Katya waited until he'd gotten to his feet. Many men got angry when they were taken to the floor by a woman, and yet it wasn't anger she saw in his eyes but something far more complicated. Desire was there, and with it the thrill of a challenge. The spark of competition she'd seen ignited in him time and time again.

It made her catch her breath.

He'd kept himself away from her since South's reception, citing too much work. The same old excuse he'd given her the time before that too.

And maybe it was true. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was her.

Some part of her hoped so, but the rest of her knew that to hope was a bad idea.

Since he'd given her that orgasm, it had been like he'd turned a key inside her. Switching something on. A flame that burned hot and strong, that was hungry for more.

Dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

Left to herself the past two days, she hadn't been able to think about anything else, which was reason enough to worry. Because it wasn't only the physical pleasure she kept remembering, but the moment in the chair, when she'd been overcome by the feeling of vulnerability, of being helpless and exposed in front of him. The soldier in her had been appalled.

She'd been scared. She'd been weak. And she could not be either again.

Since Alex had kept to the club, she'd had nothing to do, so that was why she'd spent most of the time down here in the basement, working herself into physical exhaustion.

Proving her strength over and over again.

And as Alex got back to his feet, sliding into a Kenpo stance, with his hands up and ready, she knew that here was another opportunity to prove that strength.

This time against him.

Are you mad? You know what happens when you get close to him.

No, that would not happen. She would be stronger this time.

Katya composed herself. Then came at him with a punch to the head, no warning. He slipped to the side, grabbed her wrist, and twisted around her, using his body as a pivot point, his other arm flashing out and around her throat, pulling tight. She went still, her chin up, the crook of his elbow holding her hard against the lean strength of his body.

"Not so confident now, are we?" He sounded smug and not even particularly short of breath.

Katya didn't waste time replying. She shot one hand up and back into his face, at the same time as she twisted in his hold, holding on to the arm around her neck, using momentum and her own body weight to turn it, then pull down, sweeping her foot around and taking his feet out from under him, bringing him facedown onto the floor in seconds.

"Fuck," Alex muttered as she pulled his arm into the small of his back, her knee against his spine. "You're good at this."

"Of course I'm good at it. My life and those of my clients depend on me being able to protect both myself and them." She released him and stepped back.

He rolled onto his side, then got up in a quick, fluid motion. "You really like this bodyguard stuff?"

"I like to protect people, yes."

"Why?"

She frowned at the question. "Executive protection was the most logical choice of a civilian career for someone with my skill set."

"I'm not talking logical, sweetheart. I'm talking about what makes you want to give your life for someone else's." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. "Especially when you started out wanting to be a dancer."

The water in the bath was red. The tiles were red. Everything was red. Everything except her mother, who was so white she looked carved out of marble. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, but when Katya said her name there was no response. She wouldn't wake up; she just wouldn't wake up ...

Cold seeped through Katya's body, the ice of memory freezing her. "I was a child. Being a soldier was a more honorable ambition. And as for giving your life for someone, well, that's what a soldier does. That's what I was brought up to believe."

"Fun childhood you must have had." His voice was light, but the look in his eyes wasn't. Was he goading her? "What about this promise you made? To your Mikhail."

"He is not my Mikhail. And why are you asking me these questions?"

"Are you going to marry him? Is that what you're going to do when you get back to Moscow? Settle into married bliss? Go on romantic missions for two? Lovingly kill bad guys together?"

Oh yes, Alex definitely was goading her. Why, she had no idea, but one thing was sure-he had to stop talking right now.

She came at him, aiming for his head with her fists, but he countered, weaving and knocking her hands away. He was fast and very powerful, and she could feel the energy in him as he caught one of her punches in his hand, his fingers closing around hers.

She jerked her hand back to her chest, pulling him in close, then shooting her other hand up to catch on his chin and pushing it up and back.

He cursed, stumbling away, and she let him go, waiting.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You're amazing."

An odd warmth settled inside her. Odd because it was almost as if she cared what he thought of her and she didn't.

Katya watched him as he moved a little way away, pulling open the buttons of his shirt and taking it off, discarding it onto the gym floor. The bright lights of the gym followed the cut muscles of his chest and abs, the sharp flex and release in time with his quickened breathing.

He was beautiful. Intellectually she'd always appreciated it, but before he'd touched her she'd been confused about the physical attraction she'd felt for him. Not now, though. There was nothing confusing about the deep pulse of hunger that sat low in her gut as she watched him move back into the middle of the room. Nothing strange about the way she wanted to touch him, run her fingers over his chest and stomach the way he'd done to her. Explore that hard, lean body.

He moved, exploding toward her in a blur of movement. And because she was too busy staring at him, he took her by surprise. A punch to the head made her dodge, only to run into a kick to her thigh that had her down on the floor on her knees, his hand gripping her arm and twisting it back.

She didn't give him time to get comfortable. Bending over suddenly, she put her free arm down on the floor, putting distance between them. Then she jerked her pinned arm out straight and rolled away from him, each movement strong and powerful.

It broke the hold and she was up on her feet again as he came toward her. And this time she didn't let herself get distracted by his bare chest.

This fight had to end right now. The atmosphere was too thick, too tense. It unnerved her. She would take him down, prove her strength, prove to him that she was immune once and for all.

But you're not and you know you're not.

Katya ignored the thought. As he came toward her she waited until the last moment, then sidestepped and swept her arm up, once again catching him beneath the chin, the momentum of his rush forcing his head up and back. Then, continuing with the movement, she pivoted behind him, brought her hands over his face, pulled, and jerked him down onto the floor, twisting him as he fell until he was flat on his face.

"Fucking hell," he gasped.

But Katya was done. She stepped over him and dropped to her knees, straddling his body, her hands hard against his shoulders, pinning him onto the floor.

"What do you want?" she asked quietly, holding him there. "Why are you goading me? If you're trying to prove you're stronger, you forget, I'm a soldier. I've been fighting men since I left military school. Men are always trying to prove themselves against me. They always fail."

He lay still and she realized abruptly that her hands were on his bare skin. He felt good. Strong, hot. There was power in the lean, rangy body beneath hers. Perhaps a power he didn't use to his best advantage.

Power you want used on you ...

She blinked in shock at the thought, her breath catching.

And in that moment Alex moved. A powerful shift that took her utterly by surprise. One minute she was looking down at the back of his head; the next he'd flipped her onto her back and he was the one leaning over her, straddling her hips, his knees planted on both sides of her thighs, fingers pinning her wrists to the mat on either side of her head.

Her heartbeat thumped, the blood rushing in her veins as a deep unease wound through her. She wasn't supposed to be the one on her back. She was supposed to be the one proving herself against him.

It serves you right. You let him distract you. Again.

She shifted, trying to dislodge him, but he only held her harder, tighter. She tried again, a different move this time, but he anticipated it, his thighs clamping tight around hers, keeping her down. Another twist, a special one she'd learned from her commander, Konstantinov, but again, it had absolutely no effect on the man holding her pinned.

She was breathing faster now, her skin slick with sweat, that unease sitting like a sickness in her gut. She'd been held down before, been beaten before, but it had never matteredshe stored away the experience, using it to do better next time. Yet this ... this was different. And it wasn't physical pain she was afraid ofhe wouldn't hurt her; she knew that. It was a different kind of fear. A much more basic, primitive kind.

You are helpless against him.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it?" His blue eyes were sharp edged and glittering. "Being held down like this." There was a fierce, almost savage expression on his face and she knew that sharp thing glinting in his gaze. Fury.

"What do you want?" Her voice was hoarse. "Why are you so angry?"

He bent his head, staring down at her, rage flickering like a candle flame in his eyes. "I want your surrender. Give it to me. Now."

A shiver raced over her skin, her muscles locking as she tensed beneath him. Instinctively she wanted to resist, protect herself, but he was too strong to fight. And struggling would only end up tiring her.

"Why?" she asked, sucking in a ragged breath. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Give it to me, Katya."

"No. Not until you tell me why." She didn't want to give in, didn't want to be beaten. He might have the upper hand physically, but that didn't mean she didn't have other weapons.

The powerful muscles of his chest and arms flexed as he shifted his weight, and she was conscious of his heat. Of his skin slick with sweat. Of the press of him on top of her.

So good ...

"Tell me you surrender to me, and I'll tell you why." His voice was little more than a growl.

She didn't have a choice, did she? Katya shivered. "Yes, okay." She had to force the words out. "I surrender to you. Now tell me why."

Something flared in his eyes. Triumph or satisfaction, she couldn't tell which. "Because right now, all I want is something I can control, Katya mine. Just one thing. And that thing is you."

God, he was hard. She could feel the length of his cock pressing between her thighs. Pressing against the ache there. A sweet, intolerable ache. She fought it. "Why me? Why can't you find someone else?"

"No one else is as strong as you are. And I need to test myself against strength."

Heat licked up inside her, a sensual wave moving over her skin. Making her want to move her hips, shift them against that hard ridge between her legs, ease the ache.

No, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't give in. Struggling with the urge, Katya concentrated on the look on his face instead, trying to read it. "Why? Because of South? He accepted your bet and the game is tomorrow. Your clubs are at stake." She searched the deep midnight of his gaze, remembering the tension that had been there between himself and the other man. That strange, nearly sexual atmosphere that seemed so dangerous. "It's him you're testing yourself against, isn't it? This is personal."

A muscle leapt in his jaw, the tension in his body winding tight as a catapult about to be launched. "Of course it's fucking personal," Alex said suddenly, and there was nothing lazy or mocking about his voice now. Passion vibrated through the words. A ferocity that sounded like it had been years in the making. "I want to take everything from him. Strip away all his money and his power. And when he's left with nothing, I want that motherfucker on his knees begging me for mercy. Maybe I'll give it to him. Or maybe I'll just put a fucking bullet through his brain instead."

Katya remained motionless beneath him. The words echoed with the force of a vow. "What did he do to you?" she whispered, caught by the savagery on his face. "Why do you hate him so much?" But even as she'd finished asking the question, the answer was already there, stark and clear in her head.

It all added up. That weird tension between the two men. The open hatred on Alex's face. The promise of revenge ... Conrad had hurt him and probably in a sexual way.

Alex blinked. As if he'd been somewhere else, looking at something else. "All you need to know is that he'll deserve everything that's coming to him," he said, his tone absolutely final, making it clear the conversation was over.

Questions lodged in her throat, but she couldn't ask them. Did South hurt you? Did he assault you? Was it sexual, sir? No, definitely not. Those were questions that were hard for dearest friends, let alone ones she could ask her employer.

He probably wouldn't answer anyway and it would only make things even more difficult between them. And, God knew, that didn't need to happen.

She tried a slight movement to indicate she was ready to get up, yet the weight of him on her and the strength pinning her to the mat didn't lessen.

"I ... understand." She tried to make her voice sound normal. "So have we finished here?"

But Alex's focus shifted again and then narrowed. On her. "No," he murmured. "We are extremely fucking far from finished."

A shiver whispered through her, heat prickling her skin. She tried to swallow, her throat dry. "Please. Let me up."

Slowly, he shook his head. "I don't think you want that."

The unease she'd felt earlier returned in full force, twisting and knotting with the sensual heat generated by his touch, until she couldn't work out which was which or even what she felt.

Fear. You're scared.

No. Of course she wasn't. She just had to get up.