Katya ignored the voice in her head. She focused on the man in front of her instead. The man who was looking right at her and not the wheel he'd set in motion. As if he wanted her to ask the question.

So she did. "What happened, Alex? What did he do to you?"

The wheel spun, the ball rolling around and around.

But Alex was completely still, like he'd been turned to stone. Only his eyes burned, sapphire blue turned dark as midnight. "He raped me," he said in a voice devoid of expression. "The fucking bastard raped me."

He didn't really want to tell her, and as soon as the words left his mouth he wished he hadn't. But he couldn't take them back. They were out there now.

Someone else knew. It was real.

He waited for the reaction, not knowing what to expect. Shock for certain. Perhaps disgust or revulsion to follow, then a side order of pity.

And he found he was sitting there in his seat, every muscle locked up like he was bracing himself for a blow.

Or readying yourself to run.

But no. He didn't want to do that. Not now. The time for running was over and had been the moment he'd realized Katya had come for him the night before. Because she was still here. Waiting for him in the seedy midday of the gaming room like a lily in a bouquet of wilting hibiscus. With her sharp, perceptive gaze and her strength.

And he didn't want to run from her. He wanted to give her the truth instead.

So he'd said it. He was tired of running anyway.

Her face didn't change and none of the things he expected crossed her face. She only looked at him, her gaze very direct, and said, "I know."

Oh fuck. Here was the shock, piercing him like a blade. "What?" he demanded, unable to help himself. "What do you mean, you know?"

She sat very straight in her chair, her hair in a simple ponytail down her back. "I guessed it was probably something like that. I could see how angry you were at him. You hated him, so I knew whatever he'd done was bad. There was also a strange tension between you that felt ... physical almost."

He didn't move, reflexive disgust shifting inside him. "Oh Christ, so it was obvious then?"

"No, of course not. I just knew because..." She hesitated. "You were so angry. And you were in pain. He hurt you and I knew it must have been bad to make you hate him so much. That it must have been deeply personal."

Every instinct he had was telling him to move, to get away from the look in her eyes. From the terrible understanding. But he made himself sit there and bear her gaze. And in that moment he realized that he wanted someone else to know. Because he was so fucking sick of carrying it by himself.

"It happened nineteen years ago," he heard himself say. "I was sixteen. Remember I told you about my father and the underground casino he owned? No one knew about it. It was a secret. But he drew me into it because he needed someone to spot card counters and I was good with numbers. I remember..."-his voice thickened strangely-"... thinking how amazing it was to be part of it. Like I was in a special club that was only Dad's and mine. Christ, I would have done anything for him."

Katya said nothing, only watching him. You can trust me with anything....

"Anyway," he said, and weirdly, he didn't have to force himself to go on, "Dad was losing money, running up debt. Conrad was one of his friends and was in on the casino. He paid Dad's debts for him for a while, but Dad had nothing to pay him back with. But ... Conrad had decided that he wanted me and he cornered me one night, telling me that my dad was in serious debt. And that if he wasn't careful, he was going to get himself hurt. But that I could help him. All I had to do was-" He stopped abruptly, a bitter laugh forcing its way out of him. Why was this still so hard? "I think you can imagine what he wanted."

"I can," Katya said quietly. "You don't have to say it."

No, he didn't, did he? They both knew what he meant. A tenuous thread of relief curled through him and suddenly he didn't want the distance between them. He wanted her close, her body next to his the way they'd been sitting at the reception.

Alex didn't question the impulse; he only held out his hand to her. "Come here."

She didn't question, rising from her seat and moving over to where he sat as if she already knew what he wanted. And hell, she must have read his mind, because she seated herself in his lap with a graceful movement, leaning back with her head against his shoulder.

He slid his arms around her waist, holding her close. She was so warm, an intriguing mix of soft and firm, of curves and long, lean lines. He could feel her fingers on his arm, just resting there, her touch warming him like a ray of sunlight on a patch of frosty ground.

He turned his face into her hair, feeling the softness of it against his cheek. "I let him do it. I let him have me because I wanted to help my dad. But I made Conrad promise not to tell him what happened. I didn't want him to know. I didn't want anyone to know."

Katya's fingers moved on his arm, stroking him. Not saying a word, which was just perfect. Allowing him room to speak if he wanted to. And he did.

"He took me into the fucking men's bathrooms and he raped me, and afterwards I couldn't get out of there fast enough. All I wanted to do was run. Put as much distance between me and what happened as I could. I never saw my father again. He killed himself about a month later. After that my mother and my sister came to bring me homeI was living with Gabriel at the time. But I didn't want to do that either. I couldn't bear to go back. So I didn't."

Another moment of silence passed and he didn't break it, content to hold her in his arms, letting the scent of her take away the taint of the past.

Then she said softly, "But now you are going back. You're facing him again."

"I am." He found he was grinning savagely. "And this time he's going to be the one begging me to stop. I've been running from this for nineteen years, but no more. I will have revenge for what he did to me, Katya. I will have it."

Her fingers tightened fractionally on his arm. "I am coming with you, Alex." She said it like it was already a done deal, like there was no room for argument. "You need someone to have your back."

He'd never intended for her to be there; he'd never wanted anyone to see. It was supposed to be just him and Conrad, a private, very personal revenge. Like what had happened between them had been very private and very personal. And yet the thought of Katya being there, lending him her strength ... Christ, it was so good. He'd carried this alone for so long and, hell, she knew all his secrets now anyway.

"Conrad will use you to get at me," he said, voicing the one concern he had left. "Like he used you last night."

"That doesn't worry me. You know I can protect myself if need be."

He looked down at her, found her gaze on his. "It's not physical harm you should be worried about. He gets off on power trips and he's a master at emotional manipulation. He will hurt you if he can."

But her gaze was steady. "Then we'll have to beat him at his own game, won't we?"

"We." He liked that. Fuck, no, he loved that. "That's all part of my plan, Katya mine. You see, he still wants me. He wants to own everything I have and me into the bargain. So that's what I put on the table. He'll have to put in a similar bet if he wants to stay in the game, which means his casino, all his money, all his power. And then I'll beat him; I'll wipe the table with him. And once I've done that, I'll get out my gun and I'll put it to his head and I'll make him beg for his life."

There was a spark in her eyes. A glowing emerald spark. "You don't need to bring a gun. You can use mine."

Alex's expression was fierce and she couldn't blame him. She wanted to get her gun and go and shoot South herself after what Alex had told her.

He'd been sixteen. A boy ...

The tight feeling in her chest wouldn't go away, a complicated mixture of anger and sadness. And something else, a lurching, frightening emotion she didn't quite understand. One that made her want to touch him, hold him. Give him comfort. Take away all the pain and fear he must have experienced.

She felt his fingers close around her ponytail, gripping her. "Does it change things?" he demanded suddenly. "Knowing what he did to me? Does it change the way you see me?"

"No," she replied with absolute truth. "I guessed anyway days ago."

His gaze roamed over her face, as if he was searching for something, that fierce expression still burning in his eyes. He had his fingers tight in her hair, his arm around her waist like an iron band. Holding on to her tightly. "Are you sure? Because you're the only one who knows, Katya. I've never told anyone else."

Another lurch inside her chest. One that made her breath catch and her heartbeat accelerate. And she knew it was about more than desire. More than lust. That it ran deeper, wider, than either of those.

She thought she could keep this separate, that she didn't have to feel anything emotionally for him. But that was only a lie she told herself to make herself feel better.

She was the only one who knew this truth about him. The only one who knew his secrets. How could she keep herself separate after that? Because the answer to give him, to keep the emotional distance between them, was, No. I'm not sure.

But that was a lie too far. And she couldn't do it. The things he'd told her deserved more. He deserved more.

So instead she said, "Yes. I am sure." And then she shifted, sliding a hand between them, her palm covering the front of his suit trousers. "Would you like me to prove it to you?"

She heard the catch in his breath, saw the flame ignite in his eyes. He was already hard beneath her hand, the heat of him burning through the fabric of his pants. "I seem to recall something about not screwing you today. That I needed to get my head in the game for tonight."

"Actually, I think this is exactly what you need." She traced the long, hard shape of him through the material, holding his gaze as she did so. "I think you need me before you go face him tonight. Because I'm the only one who knows. Which makes you mine." She squeezed him. "He can't touch you, Alexei. He can't ever touch you again."

He stared at her a long moment, his expression opaque. Then he let go of her ponytail and reached instead for the buttons of the white blouse she was wearing, gently beginning to undo them. "I've never been anyone's before," he said softly. "I think I like it. But as a sop to my masculinity, I think you're going to have to prove to me that you're mine too."

She swallowed, trying to read the look on his fiercely handsome face. He was looking down at what his fingers were doing, methodically undoing each button of her blouse. "Am I yours?" The question came out before she quite knew she was going to ask it, a pleading note in her voice that made her want to cringe.

His hand slid into her blouse and beneath the delicate white lace of her bra, cupping her breast, the heat of his palm like a brand against her skin. He shifted his gaze to meet hers. "Do you want to be?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Da." It took her a moment to realize she'd answered in Russian.

His mouth curved, his thumb circling her nipple, making her shiver. "Show me how much."

There was no one here; the room was empty. Nevertheless, it was a public place. And yet she found she didn't care. She squeezed him again, his cock getting harder and harder, running her thumb down the length of his shaft and back again.

He murmured something, a curse under his breath; then he lowered his head and she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn't.

As he pulled aside the lacy cup of her bra, his mouth covered her nipple instead.

She closed her eyes, a soft gasp escaping her, a lightning strike of sensation arrowing straight down to her sex. Her fingers pushed into his black hair, and she shuddered as he nipped her, a sharp shot of pain, drowned almost instantly by the soothing lick of his tongue.

Of course she was his. How could she be anyone else's? After this?

"Since you're mine, I'm going to fuck you, Katya," he murmured against her skin. "Right here, on the roulette table." A hand slid up her thigh, beneath the skirt she wore, another of Scott's little minis designed to show off her legs. And she shuddered again as his fingers found her sex, stroking her through the fabric of her panties. "So if you don't want that, you'd better let me know right now."

She couldn't speak, her voice completely gone. All she could do was reach for the zipper of his pants, tugging it down so she could touch him the way he was touching her, the length of him hot and hard in her hand.

"I'll take that as a yes," he whispered, nipping her again.

Then he moved, lifting her in his arms and setting her on the green baize of the roulette table, pushing her legs apart so he could stand between them. Then he pulled his wallet from his pants and took out a condom. "I want you to do it for me," he said, handing it to her. Then he undid his pants.

Touching him. He wanted her touching him, unlike last night. Her throat felt full, that strange, frightening feeling turning and shifting in her chest. But she swallowed it back, her hands shaking as she ripped open the packet and took out the latex. She'd done this last night for him and it had been far easier than expected, at least easier than stripping an Uzi. Yet right now she wasn't sure she could do it.

And he obviously sensed her worry, because then his hands covered hers, guiding her, both of them rolling the latex down, protecting them.

Then he said, "Put your arms around my neck."

She did, shivering as his hands slid her skirt up, as he pulled her to the edge of the table. His blue eyes stared straight into hers and this time she was the one who was drowning.

"Alexei," she whispered helplessly as she felt him pull aside the lace of her panties, baring her. As the blunt head of his cock pushed into her, the exquisite stretch of him made her gasp.

His arm came around her, holding her tight against him while his other hand gripped her ponytail again, tugging her head back. "No more distance, Katya," he said raggedly, the rough note in his voice like a caress. "No more secrets. Not while you're here. Not while you're mine. Understand?"

The feeling rose up inside her, tangling with the pleasure, turning intense. Vast. Inescapable. She was going to drown; she was sure of it.

It wouldn't be so bad to drown in his arms....

But he must have known, must have seen her distress, because the grip in her hair turned gentle, so he was cupping the back of her head, holding her steady for a kiss that just about killed her with its gentleness. With its soft heat.

That made a sob catch in her throat as he began to move inside her in a slow, intense rhythm.

It was his turn to save her. His turn to help her breathe.

Her arms curled tight around his neck, her mouth opening to his. Her body shifting and moving with the rhythm he set.

The clutch of pleasure intensified and the gentleness began to change. His mouth was harder, hotter. A savage kiss that demanded nothing less than complete surrender. She gave it to him unhesitatingly, let him take control because she sensed that's what he needed right now.

He tugged her hair out of its ponytail and pushed her back down onto the table, spreading her hair out around her on the green baize. "Let me see it," he ordered, his voice rough. "I want to see what I do to you. I want to hear you scream."

That fierce, hungry glint was back in his eyes and he was looking at her like she was the only woman in the world. And in that moment there was nothing she wouldn't give him.

She put her hands above her head, arching her back, opening her mouth, and gasping as he drove into her. Letting him hear the pleasure he gave her.

Faster. Harder. His hand moving between her legs, stroking her clit as he thrust, ratcheting up the pleasure so it became nearly agonizing in its intensity.

"Alex..." she said hoarsely. "Oh, Alexei, please..."

He leaned over her and slid one hand behind her head, his blazing blue eyes the only things she could see. "Come for me, Katya mine. Come just for me."

Then he moved his hand, gave one last, deep thrust.

And Katya let herself drown.

He felt her come, her pussy convulsing around him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and his own climax rushed over him like an incoming tide. And it was all he could do just to hold her as it swamped him, leaving him shaking like an old man.

But that was okay. She was shaking too.

Afterwards he became aware of where they were, and like it had at Conrad's reception, it felt wrong. To have her here where anyone could walk in and interrupt.

Pulling away from her, he first dealt with the condom, then gathered her into his arms. She didn't protest, only putting her head against his shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs. I don't know about you, but I could do with a shower."

"But you just had one this morning."

"Yes, but you weren't in it."

She smiled at him and for some reason he felt it like a touch.