His Last Chance at Redemption

‘Do you even have a proper car seat fitted?’

‘I have a limousine.’

Lexi could see from the arrogant tilt of his head that his momentary panic from before was over and that he was firmly back in control. Which annoyed her. He’d almost seemed human before. Approachable.

‘It doesn’t seem that you’ve been worried about much at all where he’s concerned,’ she said frostily.

His gaze sharpened. ‘Who do you think pays for this fancy establishment.’

‘I meant emotionally. He needs something familiar. Do you have his favourite toy? Blanket?’

She raised her own chin challengingly. Mrs Weston might have told her that he was some super-rich businessman, but he was clearly out of his depth in this situation.

‘I have something better.’

‘What?’

‘You.’

From as far back as she can remember MICHELLE CONDER dreamed of being a writer. She penned the first chapter of a romance novel just out of high school, but it took much study, many (varied) jobs, one ultra-understanding husband and three very patient children before she finally sat down to turn that dream into a reality.

Michelle lives in Australia, and when she isn’t busy plotting she loves to read, ride horses, travel and practise yoga.

Recent title by the same author:

GIRL BEHIND THE SCANDALOUS REPUTATION

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

His Last Chance

at Redemption

Michelle Conder

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Finn, Pia and Reif.

CHAPTER ONE

COULD a man really die of boredom?

Leonid Aleksandrov stared down at his plate of—what had he ordered? Beef? Lamb?—and tried to blank out the blonde actress prattling away at him across the table as if he was one of her girlfriends.

To be fair it was most likely nervous chatter because, he had the good grace to acknowledge, he was a man on the edge. At the end of his tether, his executive assistant, Danny Butler, would say, and even a blind Russian boar could sense that.

But how could he be anything else? The tragedy that had occurred this week was newsworthy all over the world and the press were once again snapping at his heels to get a piece of him. Questioning who he was and sniffing into his past. Looking for Mafia connections one minute and then calling him a hero the next. But a true hero didn’t have things in his life he regretted, did he?

Not that anyone would find anything on him. Seventeen years ago Leo had created a new identity for himself and thanks to Mother Russia being a country of smoke and mirrors he’d been able to bury the misery of his real childhood and reinvent a whole new one.

A much more palatable one.

So far no one knew any better. The press surmised that he was a dangerous man and, somewhat ironically, they didn’t know the half of it.

But what on earth had possessed him—on his first day back in London—to take the latest ‘it girl’ to lunch at this high-end, nosey London eatery? On her birthday of all days.

Ah, yes, sex. Respite. A moment’s relaxation. The gym had failed this week and he’d been looking for another outlet.

But no doubt Danny had thought no-frills sex in a hotel room was a bit cold-blooded on the actress’s special day; hence the lunch date.

Leo shook his head. Danny had been with him for eight years now and even though he was as close to a friend as Leo had ever had, he was still a bit too modern and sentimental for Leo’s liking. And he’d blast him for suggesting the actress meet him in the hotel restaurant instead of the hotel penthouse.

What he had wanted was to get laid and get back to work, not sit down to a three course luncheon. Now, however, after forty minutes of polite chitchat about nothing more interesting than hairstyles and movie shoots, his libido had hit rock bottom.

Thank you, Danny boy.

‘Leo, I swear, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you hadn’t listened to a word I’ve said.’

So not entirely without a brain then. That was something at least. A month ago they’d met at a party and she’d been texting on and off with innocent little invitations for Leo to attend this and that ever since. Well, ‘this and that’ was nigh and he couldn’t have been less interested in taking things further if he was standing next to her wax look-alike at Madame Tussauds. In fact, right now, that would be preferable. Quieter, at least.

Leo pushed his half-eaten lunch aside and dropped his napkin onto his plate.

‘Tiffany, it’s been enthralling, but I have to go. Finish up. Have dessert—’ he hesitated as he glanced at her emaciated figure ‘—or not.’ He pushed back his chair and paused when he saw her overly plump bottom lip quiver; which may have been a trick of the light because a moment later her composure was flawless.

‘Just like that?’ She waved her hand insouciantly, her actor’s face firmly in place. ‘And to think people said you were dynamic. Fascinating. Exciting’

Leo’s eyes narrowed. ‘We’re in the wrong place for me to show you exciting, dorogusha, and now I’m all out of time.’

And interest.

‘They also said you were heartless.’ That last was delivered without even a hint of bitterness and his eyes narrowed on the challenging tilt of her head, his senses homing in on the purr in her voice.

So that was it. He was a challenge to her. A mountain she wanted to conquer. He could understand that even though he wasn’t a man driven by challenges. He’d learned early on that rising to a challenge usually led to mistakes, pain. Leo didn’t do that. He wanted something; he got it. No challenge required.

And Tiffany Tait had definitely overplayed her hand with that comment. Smarter women than her had tried to get their hooks into him without success. He was considered the consummate commitment-phobe and it was a reputation he had carefully cultivated for years.

He stood and buttoned his single-breasted suit jacket. ‘They are right. I am without a heart and no woman will ever change that. Something to remember next time you want to play games.’

With that he walked out. Leaving her and the Cartier bracelet Danny had kindly procured for her as a birthday gift at the last minute. No doubt Leo would hear about his unchivalrous behaviour in some gossip rag at some stage. Not that he cared. Today he’d been looking for a few moments of oblivion to push aside the memory of five of his men being buried alive in an accident on one of his construction sites, and the agony of lifting mountains of cement and steel alongside rescue crews all week to get to them.

They’d reached two in time; the other three were gone. Just like his uncle seventeen years earlier.

Leo’s mouth pulled tight as he wound his way through the ‘beautiful people’ who cast covert glances from behind their crystal glasses.

Usually he loved his life. Proclaimed the richest man in Russia, with enough super toys to fill any action flick, a surfeit of women clamouring to warm his bed and a business he loved—he was understandably riding high. Today he’d almost welcome being back at the end of his father’s belt than return to work.

And really he shouldn’t have been rude to Tiffany Tait. It wasn’t her fault she bored him. He chose that type of woman for a reason—physical gratification and lack of emotional connection. If he was getting bored with eye candy he’d just have to get over himself.

Thirty minutes later and feeling marginally better now that the restaurant ordeal was over he stalked through his outer office and told his new secretary to get Danny—immediately.

Still nervous of him, she cleared her throat before speaking. ‘He’s already waiting for you, Mr Aleksandrov.’

‘Leo,’ he corrected her, pushing open his office door and striding inside.

‘If you ever send me to a poncy restaurant again instead of a private suite when I tell you I want to get laid I’ll fire you.’

‘It’s her birthday,’ Danny replied smoothly.

Leo dropped into his leather-and-chrome chair and surveyed the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk in his absence.

‘I don’t care if it’s her last day on earth. We both would have had a better time in a bed. Send her another something from somewhere, would you?’ He picked up a stock market report and scowled. Bloody volatile fear-driven markets. When would people learn not to react to every flicker of the sun’s rays as if it was about to go out?

‘You were rude, then?’

Leo didn’t look up. ‘It’s possible.’

He heard Danny sigh. ‘I was about to call you back anyway. You have bigger problems to contend with right now.’

Leo went still at his EA’s ominous tone. Bohze, not another site problem.

He didn’t ask, just waited for Danny to continue. But instead of saying anything, Danny handed him a pink sheet of paper with tiny coloured flowers dotted along the top.

Leo read the brief message and his foul mood plummeted.

‘You’re not serious?’

‘It seems so. I haven’t been able to reach her by phone.’

‘Have you had Security try to track her down?’

‘They’re on it but no luck so far. She says she’s heading to Spain.’

‘I can read.’

A heavy silence fell between them and Leo scanned the note once again to make sure he hadn’t been mistaken.

Then he leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his muscles bunch but not release. He crumpled the pink paper in his fist and lobbed it across the room. ‘How many hours do we have?’

‘Two. The childcare centre closes at five.’

Leo swore under his breath and jerked to his feet.

‘It’s only for the long weekend. She’ll be back on Monday,’ Danny added, highlighting the only positive in the message.

Leo stared out of his office window and watched the London Eye do a lazy circuit in the glittering summer sunshine. The wharf was a hive of teeming tourists probably spending more money than they had and he’d gladly hand over half of his vast fortune to any one of them if they could solve his current problem.

Four years ago he’d met a young model at Brussels Airport when all flights had been grounded due to inclement weather. Leo hadn’t even thought twice about it. Beautiful, more-than-willing woman, long night. It made sense.

Her wanting to get pregnant to a rich stranger still didn’t. The woman in question had been on the hunt for a rich husband instead of a rich career and had deliberately used a tampered condom. Three months later she’d come to him and told him the ‘good’ news.

She’d been hoping for a ring. What she’d got was a house and a monthly allowance once paternity had been confirmed.

Leo wasn’t father material. He had blood running through his veins he had never intended to pass on. The fact that this model—Amanda Weston—had duped him had made him crazy. After the fog had cleared and logic had returned he’d done the honourable thing. He’d covered all her financial expenses and made her promise to keep the boy as far away from him as possible. He might have inadvertently given someone life but he wasn’t about to completely stuff it up by being part of the child’s life as well.

Recollections of his own childhood danced at the edges of his mind like circus performers wielding brightly coloured batons with which to prod him. First the death of three of his men had reminded him of the horrendous circumstances surrounding his beloved uncle’s death and now the prospect of having to care for his three-year-old son was bringing up even worse memories. His mother. His father. His brother.

With ruthless determination Leo banished his memories and refocused on the one thing he could trust. Work.

He turned back to Danny. ‘What’s happening with the Thessaly ethanol plant?’

‘So, you still haven’t said. Are you going to Paris this weekend with Simon, or not?’

Lexi stopped trying to put the wheel back on a broken toy truck and looked over at her best friend and business partner, Aimee Madigan.

Aimee had one eye on the group of kids enjoying free play at the Little Angels childcare centre they had started together two years ago and the other on the yarn she was carefully winding back into a ball. ‘And please don’t tell me you have to work,’ her friend added with a sense of resigned certainty.

Lexi grimaced. She was supposed to be heading to Paris for the long weekend with a guy she’d been seeing casually for two months. And no doubt Simon would expect their relationship to advance to the next stage—sex—but Lexi wasn’t convinced that was such a good idea.

She had let herself be worn down by a man’s pursuit once before and the experience still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Only she didn’t really want to be worn down. The truth was, her life was wonderful as it was; she’d let herself be weakened once before by a man’s pursuit and the experience still left a bitter taste in her mouth. ‘You know the second centre is at a crucial stage of the planning. If I don’t get the loan approved in the next week or so, we won’t have one.’

‘I take it things didn’t go so well then with Darth Vader this morning?’

Lexi grinned at Aimee’s use of the pet moniker they had attributed to their hard-nosed bank manager and tried not to feel despondent. ‘He’s still got some concerns about how much the renovations are costing and some aspects of the business plan.’

‘I wish I could help you.’

Lexi shook her head. ‘This is my area of the business and you do enough around here. I’ll sort it somehow.’

Aimee stopped winding her wool and looked at Lexi as if she’d just had a great idea. ‘I know, maybe you could do that somewhere between the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre,’ she suggested, only half tongue-in-cheek.

‘Oh, yeah, I’m sure Simon would really love that!’ Lexi laughed.

‘Well, he is shelling out for The Ritz so it seems a shame to miss it altogether. And he does seem very nice.’

‘He is,’ Lexi replied, wishing Aimee would let the topic drop.

‘Lex, you’re still using work as an excuse to avoid having a proper relationship with a man,’ Aimee reproved.

Lexi scraped her finger on the toy car. ‘Ow, damn.’ She sucked the scratch and tried to keep her answer light and simple. ‘Maybe I just haven’t met the love of my life yet.’

‘And you won’t with the amount of hours you spend here.’

‘I’m happy.’

‘Not every man is an immature skunk like Brandon, Lex, and it has been four years.’

Lexi pulled a face. She’d been best friends with Aimee since high school and she knew her friend had her best interests at heart. And she also knew Aimee was right, but Brandon’s betrayal had echoed that of her father’s just a little too closely and Lexi wasn’t at all sure she was willing to risk her heart again any time soon.

‘I know that,’ she said on a sigh. And she did. But even thinking about having a relationship brought up all her old insecurities and the truth, which she was far too embarrassed to ever admit to anyone—including Aimee—was that she wasn’t great at sex. Wasn’t overly sexual at all. Which, if she was being completely honest, was the main reason she didn’t want to go to Paris. That and the fact that she didn’t actually want to have sex with Simon. But admitting that made her feel as if there was something wrong with her.

And maybe there was … Wasn’t that what Brandon had implied?

She walked over to give the truck back to the three-year-old who had broken it. ‘Here you go, Jake. Just be a bit more careful when you play with it this time.’ She scanned the group and didn’t even hear the high-pitched sounds of kids digging to China in the sandpit and chasing each other around the various climbing frames during their free play session. It was getting towards the end of the day and half the kids had already been collected. Her eyes fell on Ty Weston playing quietly by himself hammering at the small wooden table, and her heart gripped a little.

Professionally, Lexi would never admit to having a favourite at the centre, but personally she and Ty had clicked. Had done from the moment he’d joined the centre as a runty one-year-old. Small for his age back then, he was now veering on the taller end of the scale for three.

‘You know,’ Aimee began almost tentatively when Lexi picked up another tangled ball of wool and started winding it, ‘we could always ditch the idea of the second childcare centre.’

‘What?’ Lexi was genuinely shocked by Aimee’s suggestion. This was their dream and the area of London they were planning to open their new centre was in desperate need of decent childcare. ‘I can’t believe you would say that after all we’ve put into it. And I have no intention of quitting just because my love life is suffering and because we’ve had a few setbacks.’

‘Lex, you don’t have a love life and we’re paying rent on an empty building that’s nowhere near finished. Maybe you need to give up on the idea of us becoming the saviour of the childcare world.’

Fortunately for Aimee, Lexi didn’t get a chance to respond to that because one of their co-workers interrupted them.

‘Excuse me, Lexi.’

Lexi turned as Tina stepped through the double glass doorway leading into the main room.

‘What is it, Tina?’

Tina grinned. ‘There’s a hot guy wanting to pick up Ty Weston but I don’t know who he is.’

Hot guy? Probably a model, Lexi thought dismissively.

‘His mother is supposed to be collecting him tonight,’ Lexi said. But she wouldn’t be surprised if the flaky Amanda Weston had forgotten. The woman didn’t seem to care about her son and ever since her mother, Ty’s grandmother and main carer, had passed away two weeks ago, Amanda had become even worse. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Didn’t say.’ Tina waggled her eyebrows. ‘But I think he might be a movie star.’

Lexi laughed at Tina’s stage whisper.

‘I’ll be sure to get his autograph for you,’ she whispered back.

‘Forget the autograph. Just let him know I’m single.’

‘How do you know he is?’ Lexi countered.

Tina raised her left hand. ‘No rings.’

‘Maybe I should go,’ Aimee interrupted gravely. ‘This sounds serious.’

Lexi rolled her eyes and swiped her hands down her grubby peasant skirt. ‘Yeah, I’m sure Todd would love that! Watch Ty for me, can you? He’s been a bit fragile lately.’

She stepped inside the softly lit main room and noticed the outline of a tall, broad-shouldered man just visible through the window into her office. A sense of trepidation settled in her stomach at the very stillness he seemed to project through the glass.

Telling herself not to be dramatic, Lexi straightened her shoulders and opened the door to her office, stopping short when possibly the most divine-looking man she had ever seen turned to face her.

Hot guy?

The man was scorching. Tall and leanly muscled in a beautifully cut grey suit and black open-necked shirt. He had a chiselled jaw sporting a five o’clock shadow, heart-stopping blue eyes framed by jet-black lashes, close-cropped dirty blond hair and enough sexual confidence to make a courtesan blush.

Various film star names ran through her head but none of them seemed to match. No star she could recall had that air of controlled menace about them. Not that she’d met that many … or any, in fact. Her gaze rose back up over his superb physique and her breath stalled somewhere between her throat and her lungs as their eyes met. His gaze was that of a predatory animal sizing up its prey. Or maybe an army general contemplating war. Whoever he was, he was no ordinary movie star.

Lexi curved suddenly dry lips into a professional smile and ignored the way her stomach seemed to have bottomed out. ‘Good afternoon. My name is Lexi Somers. How may I help you?’

Those dangerous blue eyes raked her from head to toe and made the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach slide lower.

‘I’m here to collect Ty Weston.’ His voice was dark, accented. Russian? Something East European anyway. Which explained the slashing cheekbones and strong jaw. Against her better judgement, she looked into his eyes again and was surprised not just because of her unexpected physical reaction, but because he also seemed familiar.

She had seen him before.

No. She shook her head and then masked the unconscious movement by stepping past him to the relative safety of the other side of her oak desk. She would definitely remember him if she’d seen him before. And his smell. Clean, citrusy with a hint of wood. She would definitely have remembered that.

Lexi thought about sitting down, but immediately discounted the idea. Even in her three-inch heels he towered over her and instinct warned her not to concede one of those inches to him or he’d steamroll right over top of her. She’d been cursing the shoes all day, having dressed formally for her meeting at the bank this morning and only realising she’d left her comfortable flats at home when she’d changed out of her business suit. Now she was glad for the extra height.

‘And you are?’ She kept her voice courteous, calling on years of defusing difficult situations in an attempt to lighten the tension in the room.

‘Here to collect Ty Weston.’ He looked down his slightly crooked nose at her and Lexi felt the first stirrings of irritation she usually had no trouble keeping in check.

‘Yes. You said that. But I’ll need a little more information before I can release him into your care.’ Even saying that last word felt like a misnomer given his steely demeanour.

He folded his arms across his chest and the room seemed to shrink. ‘What kind of information?’

‘Your name for one.’

Despite her better judgement, Lexi dropped into her comfortable chair. Her feet were killing her and she hoped it would induce him to do the same; anything to make him seem a little less imposing. ‘Please, take a seat,’ she offered with forced equanimity.

He didn’t answer, nor did he take up her suggestion. Just scanned the room like some sort of secret service operative and Lexi felt her pang of unease turn into a shiver of real dread. Should she be calling the police right now? Did the man have a gun thrust into the back of that expensive-looking suit?

Lexi gave herself a mental head slap. It wasn’t like her to overdramatise situations. Still … ‘I have to say you’re making me feel distinctly nervous.’

His eyes found hers again and a jolt of something other than fear shimmied through her. ‘I am Leo Aleksandrov.’ His tone told her she should recognise who he was but she didn’t. Her life was far too busy to read gossip magazines.

‘I can tell that’s supposed to mean something to me, but I’m sorry, it doesn’t.’

He shrugged. His first human movement. ‘That is of no consequence to me. Now, please—’ he inclined his head in what Lexi imagined was supposed to be a demonstration of politeness but just came across as an incredibly superior gesture ‘—I am short on time.’