To Have and to Master Read online

  Titles by Sparrow Beckett

  Masters Unleashed Series

  Finding Master Right

  Playing Hard to Master

  To Have and To Master

  To Have and To Master

  Sparrow Beckett

  InterMix Books, New York

  AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LLC

  375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014

  TO HAVE AND TO MASTER

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2016 by Sparrow Beckett.

  Excerpt from Stealing His Thunder © 2016 by Sparrow Beckett.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19854-8

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  InterMix eBook edition / January 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Titles by Sparrow Beckett

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt from STEALING HIS THUNDER

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “My god,” Varushka whispered as she watched the man walk up the path.

  Wearing jeans and a modern T-shirt, he looked every part the American world-traveler his Baba Nina had told her he was.

  No, not a man. With a head full of tousled black hair, dark gleaming eyes, and the most handsome face she’d ever seen, she wondered if he even qualified as human. The lean muscles of his chest and biceps led her eyes downward to his strong, tattooed forearms.

  The man was like a dangerous demon sent by Satan to give women impure thoughts.

  He might even be the devil himself.

  “He’s handsome,” Antonia mused. It was possibly the stupidest thing her cousin had ever said.

  Varushka turned to her. “Handsome? He’s more than handsome. He’s . . .” The words that came to mind sounded too forbidden to say out loud. Dangerous. Wicked. Those weren’t attributes suitable for a gentleman.

  Yet a full shiver crept down her spine.

  “Your future husband,” her cousin finished.

  “Maybe future husband.”

  She snorted. “You’d be a stupid girl not to make it work. Filthy rich, and he looks like that?”

  Varushka waved a dismissive hand. “Shush. You’ve given me your opinion already.” The knots in her belly twisted as he reached the door. “Now, be quiet. He’s here.”

  Antonia gave her a mischievous smile. “Just remember what I said to—”

  The door opened, interrupting them. Varushka backed away from the window and clasped her hands behind her back. No need for him to know what a busybody she was—though it was usually Antonia’s fault. She used to get them in trouble all the time as children with her impishness.

  Konstantin could very well be her future husband and she had to work hard to impress him. Under his grandmother’s judgmental eye and with Antonia’s big mouth, it would be difficult.

  Nina shuffled in just in time for Konstantin to walk through the door. “Kostya!” She grabbed his face and kissed both cheeks, greeting him like she would a small child, despite him towering over her.

  He smiled, seeming to enjoy the attention, or at least tolerate it. “Baba, you look well.”

  After they hugged, he turned and looked at Varushka. Dark eyes matched dark hair that swooped across his forehead. For some reason, her cheeks grew hot under his gaze.

  She bit down on her lip. He looked her over as if he were assessing livestock to purchase, and for some reason that made her feel warm down below. Did he find her lacking? It was hard to imagine measuring up to American girls. She’d worn her finest dress for dinner tonight, but the plain cotton didn’t seem good enough now. It was clear he had expensive taste. Even his leather shoes looked costly. Her mother had let her borrow her best jewelry, but the dangly gold earrings and bangle bracelets didn’t make her feel any more grown up. In fact, they kept getting in the way. Decorating oneself was so impractical.

  Despite the way Konstantin seemed to size her up, he smiled warmly.

  Nina gestured to her. “This is Varushka!” It sounded like an announcement, and she felt as though she was expected to do a song and dance or something.

  Anything would have been better than standing there, gawking like an empty-headed jackass.

  He gave her a curt nod, then stuck his hands in his pockets. He seemed as uncomfortable as she felt. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said in Russian. “Baba has told me so much about you.”

  She cleared her throat and found her voice. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  At least he spoke his native language. He’d moved to America when he was small, so she’d been worried he’d force her to speak English. Though she’d been practicing, she wasn’t confident yet and didn’t want to sound stupid.

  Baba Nina walked to her side then fussed with Varushka’s hair, pulling it over one shoulder with her rough hands. “Isn’t she a pretty thing?”

  She felt her cheeks flame bright red, which always looked bad with her red hair.

  Konstantin met her gaze, pierced her with narrowed eyes. Something seemed to pass between them—a spark that shot through her, making her skin prickle. “Very.”

  Could this get any more embarrassing?

  “Those big blue eyes are always full of kindness, too,” Baba Nina continued, oblivious to how awkward it was for her to be listening to the sales pitch. “She’s small, but she works hard and is stronger than she looks. Very smart. She likes to laugh. You need to laugh more, Kostya, so I thought she would be good for you.”

  Antonia giggled.

  Varushka had forgotten she was there. Konstantin looked at her inquisitively.

  “I’m sorry. How rude of me.” Varushka took Antonia’s hand, glad to change the subject. “This is my cousin, Antonia.”

  “That’s a lovely name,” he said, nodding to her. “And it’s sweet of you to come here with Varushka, to keep her company.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Antonia nudged her teasingly.

  Varushka fought the urge to give her cousin a pinch.

  “Sorry I took so long getting here,” he said. “My flight was delayed in New York.”

  “You’re forgiven. You’re in time for dinner at least.” Nina took his arm and towed him into the kitchen. “Come, girls. I cooked a chicken for the occasion.”

  They sat at the table. Nina, ever the wily one, arranged it so Konstantin and Varushka sat side by side. They sipped thei
r drinks for a moment, waiting for the buzzer to signal the bread was ready.

  “I hear you like to cook,” Konstantin said, leveling his dark gaze at her.

  “Yes. I learned many recipes from my mama.” Varushka ducked her head.

  With her gaze downcast, again she noticed the heavy black tattoos on his forearms. Together, in Cyrillic, his arms bore the saying “Good brotherhood is the best wealth.” He had brothers? Hadn’t Nina said he was an only child?

  “Nothing that compares to your American food, of course.”

  “Don’t be so sure. There’s nothing that makes me feel more at home than a good homemade knish.”

  She smiled.

  The oven buzzed and she rose to help serve, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

  “Sit,” Konstantin ordered. He stood and moved toward the oven as if automatically expecting her to obey. “I’ll get it.”

  Slowly, she sat back down, feeling awkward as they served her. Antonia grinned and passed her knowing looks. If Konstantin noticed, he didn’t let on.

  He and Baba Nina talked through dinner. Antonia jumped in here and there, but Varushka stayed silent, even though he tried politely to draw her in. Instead she watched him, learning his mannerisms, paying attention to what he liked and didn’t like. It would be her job as his wife to know these things. Plus, it would make her feel more familiar with him.

  It felt surreal that she was to move to another country with a stranger, however, it wasn’t uncommon in their village. Most families would’ve given anything for the opportunity. Papa had said the Romanovs were “good stock.” She should be pleased to have been considered for such a match. And then to have been chosen over all the girls he’d put through school . . . It was an intervention of God.

  She wished only that she knew him better. All she really knew, other than that he was generous and rich, was that he had worked his way up from nothing and that his parents had died in a car accident when he was a teenager. Baba Nina had talked about what a kind man he was, and how handsome. The pictures of him scattered around Baba Nina’s house didn’t do him justice.

  Being matched with a stranger had seemed like an old-fashioned idea, but Mama and Papa had their marriage arranged and they’d fallen in love. Mama had promised it would be that way for her too. Or that they would at least have a deep regard for each other.

  Maybe with time, it would happen.

  For now, without worldly knowledge or good looks, she’d only have cooking to win him over.

  The conversation paused and Konstantin finished the last bite of his meal. He certainly had an appetite. Hopefully she could cook enough to keep up. She would have to plan as if feeding her family of seven.

  She’d spent her childhood watching Mama slave in the kitchen for Papa and her four brothers. As she’d gotten older, she’d helped, dreaming of having her own big family.

  “Did you finish your schooling yet, Varushka?” he asked.

  “Yes. Well, the classroom part. I need experience in the field to get my certificate.”

  He nodded. “We’ll get that set up when we get home.”

  Home. Russia was her home. Going to America, and living there with a stranger—would it ever feel like home to her?

  “Thank you.”

  “If you want to. You don’t have to. If we marry, you won’t need to work.”

  “Whichever you want.”

  “I’m not going to run your life, Varushka. I want you to be happy.”

  Varushka smiled, and he smiled back. Then she got caught by his dark eyes. Demurely, she tried to avert her gaze but she was helpless to look away. Deep in the pit of her belly warmth sparked again, spreading downward. There was such devilishness in his eyes, at times, that she wondered how she’d ever keep his attention. Doubtless, he’d had many lovers. Varushka didn’t even know how to kiss, even though she was twenty-one. She had the feeling that learning from him would be far more interesting than learning from the young men in her village.

  What would that broad chest look like with no shirt? And the rest of him?

  Antonia cleared her throat and the spell broke. She looked around, noticing Nina and her cousin staring at them as if they were performing onstage. Her cheeks heated, and she felt like melting into the floor.

  Konstantin pushed away from the table, mumbling in English. “Nosy relatives.”

  A picture of Antonia and his grandmother with several noses poking out of their faces formed in her mind. She tilted her head, puzzled.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  She looked at the others, and they grinned back eagerly. Hand trembling, she placed it in his. Anything to get out from under their watchful eyes.

  They walked quietly down the dirt road, away from Nina’s house, passing familiar sights as they went. How many times had she walked this road? To get to the small schoolroom, to go to the market, to steal apples from the Gribkov’s orchard with Antonia. Hundreds? Thousands? Would she ever walk here again? Once they left, would it be the last time she set eyes on this town? It wasn’t perfect—too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, noisy neighbors—but it was home.

  “Do you speak much English?” Konstantin asked in English, breaking the silence.

  “Some,” she answered in the same language. “But I am not so good.”

  “You’ll need to practice.”

  “Yes.” The word “sir” hung in the air and she wondered why. This wasn’t one of her papa’s friends. This was possibly going to be her husband. She didn’t need to call him “sir.”

  They fell into an uncomfortable silence again. Ugh, she was ruining this. Her mind spun, trying to think of clever things to say, but nothing came to mind. She wasn’t witty like Antonia. Or smart like her other cousin, Lina. Why Baba Nina had chosen her for her beloved Konstantin over all the other girls was still a mystery. She would try to make her proud, and her father as well. If she messed it up, they’d all be disappointed with her.

  “Do you miss Russia?” she asked. People liked talking about themselves, so if she could keep him talking, maybe she could learn more about him and not seem so awkward.

  “In English,” he ordered.

  From someone else it might have seemed rude, but from him it was sexy.

  He wanted her to practice already? She stared at the road, biting her lip, afraid to embarrass herself. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and uncomfortable. Something about him made her feel like her insides were melting. She couldn’t deny he was attractive—probably the most handsome man she’d ever met—but danger lurked under the charm. Part of her felt slightly afraid, but part was intrigued. What would he be like in his own home?

  “Sorry, that came out rude.” He switched back to their native tongue. “I’m not asking you to give up your heritage. I want to see how well you speak English so I know if you’ll need a tutor, and so I know if you can go to the bank or the grocery store without someone to translate for you.” Placing a hand on her arm, he stopped her in place. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “Do you miss Russia?” she asked again, this time in English. Her pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but she could tell he understood.

  “Very good.” He smiled encouragingly, and she wondered why pleasing him gave her such a good feeling. “Yes, sometimes. I’ve lived in America so long that it feels more like home now. I would visit more often if I had a Russian wife who wanted to visit her family.”

  “Baba Nina would like that.”

  “Probably.” He laughed sheepishly, as though it was something Nina hounded him about regularly.

  “The tattoos? Do you have a brother?”

  He lifted a brow at her and she wondered if he’d think she was prying. “Two. They’re not brothers by blood, but they’re the family I’ve chosen and mean just as much.”

  Varushka was tempted to ask him about the men, but she didn’t want him to think she was meddlesome. If he wanted to tell her more, he would.
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br />   She craned her neck to look up at him. He was so big and made her feel so tiny. The day after tomorrow, she was going to travel with him to a foreign country. She’d be completely dependent on this . . . stranger. The weight of what she’d agreed to came crashing down on her.

  What if he discovered he didn’t like her? What if she wasn’t what he wanted? Would he abandon her there, alone with no job, no money? Would he ignore her, letting her live in his house only out of obligation? What if he was cruel or abusive? A million ways this could end badly came to mind. Her chest ached.

  Then she remembered what Antonia had told her—the one way guaranteed to win over a man. It would be bold move, and so unlike her, but the panic was too much to bear. If Antonia’s idea would help her win his affection, and survive, she could make herself do it.

  Standing on tiptoe, she stretched up and kissed him. She’d never kissed a man on the lips before. It felt strange but pleasant. His lips were soft and tasted like wine. She wasn’t sure where to put her hands so she just let them dangle at her sides.

  His lips moved against hers, as though he enjoyed it as well. Maybe Antonia had been right. But a second later, he pushed her gently away.

  “Whoa,” he mumbled, staring down at her. “Slow down there, sweetness.”

  Panic struck. Had she done something wrong? Had he not liked the kiss? Oh god. Her heart was in her throat. Had she messed things up already? She pressed her hand to her forehead and stumbled back a few steps.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I apologize, Sir. That was too forward of me and—”

  “Sir?”

  She cringed. “I mean, I’m sorry, Konstantin. Antonia told me American men liked when girls were . . . When they were . . .” Her cheeks burned as she fumbled for words.

  “She told you we like forward girls?”

  Her gaze flew to his face in shock. She expected anger, but he smiled in amusement.

  “You’re not upset with me?”

  Chuckling, he took her hand and pulled her closer. “No. But when we kiss, I want it to be because you want to. Not because your cousin told you to. And not only because you think I will like it.”