A beautiful girl. A wicked mother. A twisted love triangle.
In this thrilling romance, Nixie Veidt is forced to choose between money and love. She must stay faithful to the bureaucrat she married to save her inheritance, but her heart belongs to a Russian dancer. When the dancer is hired by her company, she puts it all on the line. Will she lose everything? Or does love really conquer all?
“Nixie, I love you. When we first met, your eyes attracted me. Not how big and bold they are, but how sensuous.I saw a promise in them that existed for a moment.That moment was precious. Moments add up to— Did I say something wrong?”
“N—no. Go on.”
“N—no. Go on.”
“I would have dragged you to my room because I wanted to rip off your clothes. But when you were with me, I knew it wasn’t meant to be then. Not because those who wait shall receive. But when everything is right, it happens. But I know how you responded to me when you saw me. Whatever was in me was reflected in your eyes. You do love me, don’t you?”
“Are you that desperate you have to beg.”
Morten chuckled. “I was, wasn’t I? True. You’ve never said it, but I saw it for a moment when we first met. What’s wrong…? I’m a cop. Observant. Remember?”
“Morten…I can’t love you the way you want.”
“What way can you love me?”
He saw the same determined look on her face that he had seen in the motel, when she glared at him, after she threw a tantrum.
“A marriage of convenience. I don’t love you. I can offer you a job in the Company. You’ll be the guardian. I’m using you. For Kolya. I love him. I’ll be married to you, while I’m sharing Kolya’s bed.”
Morten’s eyes seemed like sapphires because his face was pale, drained, anemic.
She added, “I can’t handle courts and lawyers. I’m not like you. Analytical. I’m a dancer. I know how to follow steps to music.” There was no intimacy in her voice. It sounded like a business deal, a transaction between traders.
She added in a cutting tone: “I need my freedom. Without it I might as well be dead. I’ve always had my way. Will you do it?”
“Maybe, one day,” he said, slowly, plaintively, “you’ll look at me as you did when we met.”
“How was that?”
“I think you know.”
“You’ll do it? Sacrifice yourself…?” she asked contemptuously, with greedy eyes upon him.
“You don’t understand, do you? One day, you might— Haven’t forgiven me…? I know my value. You’re buying a license. I accept.”
“You don’t understand, do you? One day, you might— Haven’t forgiven me…? I know my value. You’re buying a license. I accept.”
She stared past him with the look of exploitation; a slave driver and trader would have had the same merciless expression.
Will you be picking up Pearl Lover?
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