“Which could be part of why you’re having such a hard time finding support for your charity.”

The back of his neck prickled. “How did you know about that?”

The charity he was working on establishing in Colvin’s name was not common knowledge. Yes, he’d approached a few people about it, but he’d told those people to be discreet. The reactions had all been the same, too.

He would need support. Because a man with a reputation for driving too fast, sleeping with too many women, a man who had earned his fortune in the ring...would have his efforts met with cynicism.

And he could not afford to have a negative reaction. Colvin was dead. There would be no paying him back in this life. But he could show the world what the other man had done for him. Offer choices to children who were in the position he had once been in.

Choices he had never had. Control that had been wrenched from him on a cold day in Moscow.

“I always have an ear to the ground,” Victoria said, “plus, I have sat on the board for a great many charities over the years and have quite a few connections. I use those connections to my advantage.”

“How does supporting a kids’ charity benefit you?”

She blinked wide blue eyes slowly. “What do you mean? I’m only thinking of the children.”

He swore crudely in Russian and laughed. “Right. I’m sure you are.”

“I take it you don’t believe me?”

“Do I believe the Ice Princess is thinking of the children? No. You would have to emanate some warmth before I would believe that.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. Too busy to emanate today I’m afraid. Perhaps another time. However, I assure you I approach my charity work with complete dedication. But I save my passion for my work, so none for you, I’m afraid. Now, about my proposal...”

“Why did you propose?”

She lifted a brow. “It was love at first sight?”

“No.”

She leveled her gaze, meeting his, her eyes alight with determination. “I want London Diva back.”

He frowned at the mention of one of his holdings. “Excuse me?”

“London Diva. I want the company signed back over to my family.”

“Calder,” he said, repeating her name. Of course he hadn’t made the immediate connection. He’d bought the chain of high-end retail stores out from under Nathan Barrett a few years back, but he knew it had been founded by Geoffrey Calder some thirty years earlier. “You’re Geoffrey Calder’s... Well, you can’t be his wife because you just proposed to me. His daughter?”

“Very good guess. A correct guess.”

“So, you walk in and propose marriage, then demand a portion of my business. And what will you do for me in return?”

“You may have seen some of my charity work in the media. They speak quite highly of me. Some outlets have made comparisons with Mother Teresa, though I think that’s selling her a bit short. It isn’t as if I’ve given up all of my worldly possessions,” she said, flashing her expensive-looking handbag. “But, though I’m not a paragon, I am, compared to you. And I have something you want. Something you seem incapable of buying.”

He waved a hand. “Foolish woman. I have yet to find anything I can’t buy.”

“Except a better reputation.” The expression on her face was almost comically angelic. He imagined she would look innocent of a crime just as she was about to cut a man’s throat.

He liked that.

But what he didn’t like was the fact that she had his balls in a vise. And was tightening it slowly. His reputation as a businessman was flawless. His reputation as a human being had some issues. “And why do you suppose I need to improve my reputation?”

“Because if what I’ve heard is true, you want to launch this charity for children. Gyms offering free and reduced-rate lessons in martial arts and other physical fitness activities for children in high risk situations. 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, foulmouthed and hotheaded. Did I miss anything?”

He 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 womanizer. 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—”

She held up a hand, clearly irritated with the line of dialogue. Good. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg, though, isn’t it? Drunk driving. Fraternizing with married women. Many of whom are mothers. You certainly don’t have a history of caring if you tear families apart.”

Dmitri bristled at her blatant reference to his most recent scandal. “Lavinia left out some critical information when I took her to bed.”

“That she was married?”

“Oh, hell no. I don’t care about that. I’m not the one who made vows. But I did not know she had children.”

In many ways, he preferred conducting his affairs with women who had other attachments. It allowed him as much detachment as he wanted. Which was essential. He didn’t have relationships, he had sex.

He didn’t sleep with his lovers. That required trust, and he didn’t trust the women he had affairs with.

But that was because he didn’t trust anyone.

Victoria made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Yes. Well. In that case you’re practically a saint, aren’t you?”

“The patron saint of vodka and orgasms, maybe.”

Color flooded Victoria’s cheeks. “Odd. I’ve never seen you depicted on the stained glass at mass.”

“Something to do with my excommunication I’m sure,” he said drily.

“I could solve your problems,” she said, twisting the subject expertly.

“By marrying me?”

She chuckled, the sound like a fork on crystal. “Don’t be stupid. 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 she was not a fighter, and not his opponent. And was, in this moment, mainly irritating.

“Of course I have. I was hardly going to storm in here without a plan,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

Just for that, he would make her pay. He was not beneath her. Her or anyone else. And he would not allow her to speak to him as if he was.

“Well, sadly for you, you don’t know my schedule all that well. I have somewhere to be soon, and that means I need to go back to my place, shower and change.”

“Well...where is that?”

“Happily for you, just upstairs.” He had a set of apartments above the gym, an odd choice, he knew. This gym wasn’t in the trendy part of town, but it was where he’d got his start when he’d come from Russia to London and it held sentimental value to him.

Even more now that Colvin was dead. The loss of his mentor was a heavy weight around his neck, and being here made him feel...well, like the old man wasn’t entirely gone.

Fanciful garbage he wasn’t normally given to, but he hadn’t been able to let go of this place.

Colvin had given him choices again. Colvin had given him—not his old life back—but a new life. One that consisted of more than grubby bars, threadbare blankets and foam mattresses on cement floors. One that consisted of more than taking blow after blow, washing the blood off in a dirty bathroom in the back of an underground club and going back for more...

Choice was what Colvin had given him. It was what Dmitri wanted to give to the children who would benefit from the charity.