Chapter 11

It wasn't working.

He was spending time with the woman and he still couldn't figure out what it was about her that he wanted. Couldn't figure out why he cared. She wasn't an enigma, wasn't special. She was easy to read. Like a clock, he knew exactly what made her tick. He could predict down to the last detail what motivated her, what enraged her, what saddened her and what made her happy. She should be boring. Another useless, pointless, slightly skilled sheep.

But she didn't bore him. She fascinated him. And though he could predict her every move ten steps before she made it, he still wanted to watch her take those steps. Because they were the most beautiful, sexy steps he'd ever seen a woman take and he was somehow utterly and completely obsessed. Obsessed with her mind, obsessed with her body. Obsessed with everything about her.

And because Ivan was an arrogant bastard that spent over a week mentally dissecting and tormenting the woman, he'd created an enemy. She feared and despised him, wanted no part of him. Now he needed to figure out how to manipulate her into caring about him. She was vulnerable, should crave companionship and acceptance after all these years of fending for herself. Perhaps the way to her heart was through a softer approach.

Ivan looked toward his security man. "Keane," he barked. The other man looked up from the security report he'd been going over, outlining ways to strengthen the island's defenses without drawing attention to their hardware. "You know much about women?"

Keane's expression went quickly from bland to alarmed. Clearly the last thing he wanted was to give his notoriously ruthless boss woman advice. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. "Uh, not really," he said hesitantly.

"Well learn fast," Ivan said coldly. "Because I want Jaya to warm up to me and I don't think, given the way things have been going, that her emotions are leaning that way."

Keane snickered. "You ain't kiddin' about that."

Ivan shot him a look that wiped the laughter from his face and told him he'd better get working on the immediate problem of making Jaya soften up. Keane slumped in his seat and looked completely stumped. He was definitely a fuck em' and leave em' kind of guy. Ivan was partially responsible for that. Under his employment, women weren't allowed on the island unless they were there to cook or clean and the men were under strict no fraternizing or die instructions.

"Ah, fuck me, boss," he growled, his Irish accent even more pronounced than usual. "Don't women like pretty, glittery things, like clothes and jewels and shit?"

"I've given her all that," Ivan said dismissively. "She doesn't care. She could afford clothes and jewels well before we picked her up. She chose not to spend her money on frivolous things. What else do women like?"

Keane looked as though he'd rather be eating a bowl of live grenades than having this conversation. "Cats!" he burst out, relief lighting up his bearded face.

"What?" Ivan asked, his lip curling derisively.

"I once dated this looney little bitch that had five freakin' cats. Nearly killed one when I got up in the middle of the night to take a piss and stepped on it. She shot me in the arm with my own damn gun before shovin' my naked ass out her back door and then throwin' all my fucking clothes out the window. Bitch cared more about her cats than anything else," Keane grumbled and rubbed his arm. "Women like cats."

Ivan was pretty sure not all women liked cats based on Keane's single experience, but he gave the idea some merit. Jaya had spent the majority of her life alone, running for her freedom. As far as he knew she'd never stopped long enough to form any solid attachments. Perhaps she would enjoy the company of something small and helpless, something dependant. Something that might bond with her and banish some of her loneliness.

The sneer playing around his mouth slowly softened. Yes, he would get Jaya a kitten. Give her the gift of a bond. And perhaps she would appreciate his present so much she might soften her attitude toward him. He thought about tasking the job to someone else, but the idea was distasteful. No, he would find the beast himself. He would have it flown in that very evening and give it to her with his own two hands. He wanted to see her face when she opened his gift and realized that he was capable of more than bloody vengeance.

Without looking up, he said, "Dismissed." He was no longer interested in the security reports; he had a cat to find.