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‘Absolutely.’
It hadn’t helped that when she’d delivered her assured answer Alina could see the doubt evident in Elizabeth’s eyes.
You are up to this, she told herself as she stepped out of the taxi and stood for a moment at the entrance to the hotel, trying to will herself calm, watching as elegant men and slim-suited beauties walked by confidently.
Yes, today had to go well because if it didn’t...
Alina blew out a breath as she made a promise to herself.
If this didn’t work out then she was going to quit even trying to survive the corporate world and just hands up admit that it wasn’t for her.
If only she’d kept to her diet, Alina thought, feeling the bite of her waistband.
That was the problem with working at the very top-end restaurant at The Rocks—the owner was nice and ensured that all of the staff got a meal from the sumptuous menu on their break.
Who could say no to that?
Not Alina.
She was a country girl at heart and had an appetite to match, yet today she had to play the part of a slick city PA who allowed nothing to faze her.
Not even the formidable Demyan Zukov.
Alina could feel sweat on her top lip as she made herself known to Reception and was asked to show her ID.
‘One moment, please.’
Oh, God, Alina thought, she wasn’t even going to get past the receptionist! But a few moments later she returned and handed Alina a card for the elevator that would take her up to the presidential suite.
Alina actually felt sick as the elevator hurtled her towards the twenty-fourth floor. Worse, though, was when the elevator door opened at its destination and a very beautiful raven-haired, mascara-streaked woman stepped in as Alina stepped out.
That must have been his date for the night, Alina decided.
Alina had read more than her fair share of glossy magazines and so she was pretty well versed as to Demyan’s rather decadent lifestyle.
Or she’d thought she was!
As Alina walked down the corridor a teary, pale blonde beauty teetered on high heels towards her. Alina could see, though she very quickly diverted her eyes, that the woman’s left breast was exposed.
Nothing fazes you! Alina reminded herself for the hundredth time, though she was terribly tempted to simply turn tail and run.
Just act as if you’ve seen it all before, Alina told herself.
But she hadn’t.
As she went to ring the doorbell to his suite her hand paused when the door opened and Alina swallowed nervously as she prepared herself to come face to face with the legend that was Demyan Zukov. Instead, it was a gorgeous redhead that stepped into Alina’s line of vision, though the woman barely gave Alina a glance as she swept her way out of the master’s chambers.
Alina was very used to being looked straight through.
Nondescript—she had actually heard Elizabeth describe her as that on the phone once.
It was an asset at times, Elizabeth had assured her as Alina had sat there with cheeks flaming. Some of their clients actually asked for the most nondescript women, Elizabeth had explained, so as not to inflame jealous wives.
Joy!
‘Hello!’ Alina knocked on the open door and waited. When there was no response she wondered if she should step inside or wait to be invited in. Her brief from the agency had stated that she was to arrive at eight.
Alina glanced at her phone—it was two minutes to.
‘Hello!’ Alina knocked and called out again. ‘It’s Alina Ritchie from the agency...’
Again there was no response.
Perhaps, given his busy night, he’d overslept, Alina thought, tentatively stepping inside.
The place was in utter chaos. There were clothes strewn everywhere as well as plates and glasses still wearing the evidence of having once been dressed with the most lavish food and drinks.
‘Hello!’ Alina said again, but then her panic mounted and she wondered if she was about to find him dead from his excesses in bed.
Stop it! she cursed her overactive imagination, but really, with all the evidence to hand and with all that she had read about Demyan, it was a distinct possibility.
She stood, trying to work out what she should do, but then she almost shot from her skin as a deep, richly accented voice came from behind her.
‘Good, you are here.’
Alina swung around and braced herself—for what, she didn’t really know but the sight that greeted her certainly wasn’t on the list of possibilities that her mind had produced. Demyan might just as well have spent the night being groomed and pampered in the hotel spa to prepare for this moment. Like a beautiful phoenix rising from the ashes, he stood, looking absolutely exquisite, amidst the chaos.
The angels must have dressed him because his attire was the closest thing to perfection Alina had ever seen—an immaculate dark suit accentuated his tall, lean frame and his shirt was so white it was gleaming, but what drew Alina’s eye wasn’t just the dark silver-grey of his tie but that it matched his eyes, when first she met them, perfectly.
No, not perfectly, Alina, decided, because colours and hues were perhaps her favourite things.
Nothing could match his eyes—they made even the night sky seem dated. If he wasn’t so imposing, Alina could have stared into them for ever.
‘I’m Demyan.’
As if she needed to be told.
Alina took his outstretched hand and felt his long dry fingers close around hers. She caught a waft of his cologne, one that would surely mean her weekend was going to be spent in a perfume department just so that she could inhale that heady sent again—bold, clean and fresh yet with a musky undertone. She had never smelt anything quite so delicious before.
‘I’m Alina.’
‘Alina?’ Demyan gave a small frown. ‘That is a Slav name, no?’
‘No,’ Alina croaked. ‘Celtic...’ She could barely speak he was so stunning. Where was the crashing hangover he should be nursing? His black hair was freshly washed and brushed back and he was clean-shaven. Demyan’s skin was smooth and pale—certainly he didn’t come up all red and blotchy as Alina did if she drank so much as one glass of wine. On second brief inspection Alina saw that his dark eyes were perhaps a touch bloodshot but apart from that there was no evidence to denote a clearly wild night.
This was his usual, this was how he lived, Alina realised as she attempted to speak on. ‘Actually, it can be both.’
‘Both?’ Demyan checked. He’d already lost the thread of the conversation and desperately needed the kick-start of a very strong coffee. Usually he did not leave his bed without one but, remembering that he had ordered the temporary PA to be here at eight, instead of having his coffee brought to him, Demyan had first showered and dressed for work.
Work always came first for him.
He had never once been late, or missed an appointment. Every facet of his life he controlled to the letter.
Demyan was not at the top of his game by either chance or mistake.
‘I think it’s both Slav and Celtic. It means...’ Alina stopped herself then as she sensed his distraction. What would Demyan care about the meaning of her name? He had merely been making small talk. ‘What can I do for you?’ Alina asked instead.
‘Coffee.’ Demyan said. ‘A lot of it. And could you also ask that someone comes to sort the place out?’
‘Do you want breakfast as well?’ Alina asked, heading for the phone to ring down for room service.
‘I want coffee,’ Demyan said, but halted her as she went to pick up the phone. ‘Just press the bell in the butler’s kitchen.’ He frowned as she blushed and did as asked.
She couldn’t even get an order as simple as coffee right but, though Alina had worked with a few overseas clients at hotels, she had never found herself in the presidential suite before, where a butler was just a bell press away.
‘Could you organise coffee and for someone to come and sort out the suite?’ Alina said, when the butler knocked and she opened the door. She bit back on her need to apologise for the terrible mess as the butler’s eyes glimpsed the chaos behind her.
‘Certainly.’
Demyan gestured to her to join him at a large walnut table, where he had pushed aside an empty bottle of cognac and several glasses and was opening up his laptop.
‘I have allocated all of today to let you know what I expect from you in the coming weeks. I have two properties that I wish to sell...’ Demyan hesitated. He had a vast property portfolio and most of his investments were purchased and sold unseen, but all of that took place away from Australia. The two properties that were about to go on the market here were far more personal. ‘I want you to speak discreetly with some agents and give me the best two, perhaps three, and from there I will meet them and decide who to go with.’
‘I’ll ring a few this morning—’
‘And say what?’
His tone was suddenly sharp and, looking over, Alina saw that his eyes had narrowed and she realised that she had clearly said the wrong thing.
‘Firstly, you haven’t even seen the properties. Secondly, you are to be discreet. The last thing I need is the press to find out before I tell...’ Demyan hesitated again. He certainly wasn’t going to discuss his predicament about Roman.
‘You will make discreet enquiries with the agents, face to face, give me a shortlist, then I shall make my selection and then I will speak with them.’ He was still frowning. ‘You have done this type of thing before?’ Demyan checked. ‘Because I also have a farm out in the Blue Mountains and it is going to be a complicated sale. I have tenants and they’re not going to be particularly thrilled that I am selling. I do not need someone with no experience making—’
‘Do they run their business from the farm?’ Alina interrupted, blowing out a breath as Demyan gave a small nod, because there she did know what she was doing—her mother’s farm had at one stage nearly been sold to overseas investors, which might have meant that her mother could have retained the business. Unfortunately, at the last minute the property had sold to a well-heeled family that wanted a place in the mountains as a weekender.
‘I know a very good agribusiness agent,’ Alina said. ‘One who is very used to sitting tenants and international investors, though of course I’ll liaise with others.’
He had been about to tell her to leave.
Even ordering something as simple as a coffee had proved complicated but, just as he was about to dismiss her, Demyan decided to give her another chance.
‘You are a country girl?’ Briefly he tried to understand her.
‘Ex,’ Alina said. ‘Though you know what they say...’
‘No,’ Demyan said. ‘They?’
‘You can take the girl out of the country...’ Her voice trailed off. ‘It’s a saying. You can—’
‘I will call the tenants now.’ Demyan cut her off in mid-sentence. He was possibly the most abrupt man she had ever met.
Alina watched as he effortlessly, and without so much as a flinch, broke the difficult news. ‘I want to clear my portfolio here,’ Demyan said, and Alina looked away; it was all just a little too close to home. ‘I understand that, Ross,’ Demyan said, ‘but my decision has been made...’ Demyan stopped talking for a moment as Ross made rapid pleas. ‘It will be going on the market as soon as possible.’
He just said it.
It was too close to home because Alina felt tears prick at the back of her eyes as she thought of Ross picking up the phone and how so much had just been dashed in one call.
Alina could hear Ross’s voice rising, asking why Demyan couldn’t have given them more notice, and then, for the first time, she heard a trace of emotion in Demyan’s voice. ‘I only decided last night.’
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS A very long morning.
Alina sat embarrassed and uncomfortable as the staff worked around them, picking up the pieces of a decadent night.
Demyan didn’t appear embarrassed, not remotely so. He was clearly more than used to it and they worked on solidly.
‘Are there tenants in the other property?’ Alina asked.
‘No.’ Demyan didn’t even look over as he answered. ‘It is my private residence that I am selling. Do you see now my need for discretion?’
Alina slowly nodded and ran a tongue over suddenly dry lips as she started to glimpse the enormity of Demyan’s revelation. ‘Am I to look for other—?’
‘I am not buying,’ Demyan said, and Alina blinked at the implication that he was leaving Australia. ‘It is going to be a busy month—unexpectedly so.’ He did look at her then—straight into her eyes. ‘Do you have any questions?’
‘No,’ Alina said, hoping to make it clear that she wasn’t about to pry, but again it was none too subtly pointed out that she was perhaps out of her league.
‘Surely you should have many questions. You are supposed to be running my diary and arranging the sale of two properties and yet there is nothing that you wish to ask me? As I said earlier, I have allocated today to bring you up to...’ His hand moved in a circle as he tried to place the word. Clearly irritated, his excellent English slipped and he repeated the start of the phrase. ‘Bring you up to...’
Alina sat there, her lips tight, trying not to break in and give him the word that he was looking for. She didn’t want to annoy him further—in fact, she was expecting any minute now to be told to leave. And then the strangest thing happened. She watched as his arrogant, sullen features slipped into a smile, the first she had glimpsed from him, and, most surprisingly of all, it was aimed at her.
‘I don’t have a stutter,’ Demyan said.
Alina swallowed; she had no idea where this was leading.
‘You don’t have to just sit there and pretend not to notice that I cannot find the right word.’ He was still smiling, just a little, but enough for Alina to realise why he so easily broke hearts. His smile was completely mesmerising. He had a very sensual mouth when it wasn’t scowling, full, deep red lips that moved incredibly slowly, so slowly they made Alina aware that her own lips were itching and she ran her nail over them.
‘Feel free to jump in,’ Demyan said, and her thoughts were so lost in his lips that for a bizarre second Alina thought it was an invitation to kiss, but she quickly dragged her mind back to the conversation.
‘Speed,’ Alina croaked. ‘You have today to bring me up to speed.’
‘So use it wisely.’
Alina nodded.
‘In the future if there is something you are unsure of, or you have questions—’
‘Then I’ll ask you.’
Wrong answer.
Alina knew because she actually saw his jaw clamp and that gorgeous mouth harden.
‘If you would let me finish...’ There was no trace of a smile on his lips now. ‘I was about to say that you will liaise with Marianna, my regular PA in the States.’
‘No matter the time of day?’ Alina said. ‘With the time difference...’
‘You liaise with her before you trouble me.’ Demyan said.
They worked on but not well.
‘Ring Hassan’s assistant,’ Demyan said as the clock approached eleven. It had been the longest morning of her life and it didn’t get any better. ‘See if you can schedule dinner tomorrow. He is only here for a week, so make him a priority.’ He had to pause before continuing because Alina wrote every instruction down. ‘He likes a restaurant at The Rocks and I haven’t eaten there in a while.’ He circled his hand again and Alina hoped he was going to give a different restaurant name but, when it came, it was the one she worked at.
‘Problem?’ Demyan asked.
‘No,’ Alina answer too quickly. ‘Why should there be?’
‘Because you didn’t write it down.’
He missed nothing, Alina realised, duly writing it down and waiting for the next set of instructions, but Demyan was silent now.
Alina was sure, quite sure, as lunchtime approached that Demyan had decided it was all too much hard work and that he might just as well send for the terribly efficient Marianna.
She was right.
Alina, Demyan had decided, wasn’t a PA’s shoelace. He had never met someone so excruciatingly shy and apologetic. She blushed whenever he spoke to her. Demyan was very used to women blushing but not quite so deeply and so consistently as Alina.
He actually called Marianna but, hearing the neediness in her voice, decided against summoning her. Maybe it was his pounding headache that made the thought of Marianna helping him deal with these painful transactions suddenly not appeal and he decided to give Alina a small period of grace.
Alina was ringing restaurants and contacting Hassan’s PA when Demyan hung up on Marianna.
‘Could you have some painkillers sent up?’ Demyan said, but as Alina headed for the bell, he changed his mind. ‘Actually, there are some in my bathroom, if you could fetch them for me, please.’
The staff had worked their magic and there was no hint that Demyan had entertained three women there last night.
That’s what you’re dealing with, Alina told herself, because, yes, she was attracted to him. In fact, she was more attracted to Demyan than she had ever been to anyone in her life. Not that he’d ever look at her in that way, Alina knew that, and she wasn’t being modest. He was out of her world. So much so that Alina knew she shouldn’t even be here. It had been terribly foolish to lie and even more foolish to tell Elizabeth that she was up to working for Demyan.
Alina stood in the palatial bathroom and forgot for a moment that she was in there for a reason as she admired his things. Oh, there was so much to admire—not a hint of plastic, Alina thought, looking at his heavy silver razor. There was nothing disposable about him. The diligent cleaners still hadn’t quite managed to erase the scent of him. She couldn’t help herself. Alina picked up a heavy crystal cologne bottle and held it in her palm, squinting to read the name.
Demyan.
He had his own fragrance.
Alina could barely take it in. She removed the glass stopper and inhaled deeply, the scent exactly him, heady, exotic, bold. She could have breathed it in for ever, but hearing his phone ring she jumped a little, knocking a little bit onto her face and hand.
Quickly Alina replaced the stopper and punched out two tablets from the packet then headed back out to where Demyan was on the phone. He was speaking in Russian and, from the less than pleasant tone he was using, and because he said Nadia’s name, he was clearly talking to his ex-wife.
Alina stepped back into the bedroom and hovered, listening to her boss’s simmering anger and hoping she could just get through today without it turning on her.
‘Souka!’ Demyan said, and Alina heard the clatter as he tossed the phone.
That’s what you’re dealing with, Alina reminded herself again, because, as her mother had always told her, you could tell a lot from a man by the way he spoke to or about his ex.
Yes, her toes might be curling in her shoes just looking at him but there was no doubt in Alina’s mind that Demyan Zukov was an absolute bastard.
It was just that her body said otherwise.
Demyan glanced up as she approached. Those cheeks were on fire again but possibly, Demyan conceded, more from embarrassment at the disagreement she had just witnessed.
Demyan didn’t need to explain himself and he certainly wasn’t about to tell Alina what Nadia’s response had been when he had called her a whore—instead of dissolving or crying, or better still hanging up, Nadia had simply dropped her voice and purred into the phone, ‘If you want me to be.’
Alina held out the tablets, watching his mouth lift into a very wry smile as she held out her hand.
‘It will take a bit more than two,’ Demyan said to her offering. ‘Bring me the packet.’ When Alina still stood there, he was more specific. ‘Bring me the packet and a glass of iced water.’
‘It says on the packet that the dose is two.’ Alina watched his spiky black lashes blink at her small defiance.
‘If I wanted a nurse I would have hired one.’ His eyes lifted and met hers and Alina found that she was holding her breath as Demyan paused and his very straight nose breathed in air that was scented with the cologne she had spilled. ‘A nurse who didn’t meddle with my toiletries. Bring me the packet.’
‘I’m not getting you any more.’ Alina didn’t care if it meant that she was fired—she certainly wasn’t about to feed Demyan his drugs, even if it was just a couple of extra painkillers that he was asking for. She saw his eyes widen a touch, watched him open his mouth to speak, but Alina got in first. ‘If you want to overdose then you can fetch them yourself.’
Alina put the tablets down on the table in front of him and waited for the same roar he had served Nadia.
It never came.
Alina blinked in surprise when Demyan merely shrugged and stood up, though he did not head to the bathroom to get any more tablets; instead, he picked up his jacket. ‘We will go and look at my residence but first we will stop for lunch. Perhaps it is fresh air that I need more than painkillers.’ He liked her shy smile and the way that her serious brown eyes flared in relief.
He liked it that she defied him.
So few did.
‘Ring and book a table.’ Demyan had made more decisions than he cared to this morning, he simply wanted lunch. ‘You choose where.’
That should be it.
With anyone else, that would have been it.
His word, her command.
‘Actually...’ Alina gave a tentative cough before continuing, ‘I can’t have lunch with you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I have to have lunch separately from the client.’ Alina attempted the impossible, to explain rules to a man who made his own. ‘It’s in the agency guidelines. It’s on the contract that you signed last night.’
‘Did I?’
Alina fished out the boilerplate contract from her bag and showed Demyan, who looked at his unmistakable signature. Last night remained a bit of a blur. ‘So I did.’ He flicked through the contract. ‘It says here that you are to finish promptly at five, with no exceptions. Can I ask why?’
‘I’m a temp,’ Alina said. ‘It’s simply the agency guidelines.’ She didn’t add that Elizabeth would very possibly throttle her if she knew what was being said. Elizabeth would have her staying back to midnight if it pleased Demyan. Neither did she add the guidelines meant that by finishing promptly at five she was able to work in the evenings.
‘Very well.’ Demyan shrugged. ‘We have a lot to do between now and five but first I need to eat.’
Alina called a restaurant from the list Marianna had emailed over and she called for his driver too, who was waiting for them as they stepped onto the forecourt.
For the first time in her life, Alina felt heads turn.
Though, of course, they turned for Demyan.
The door to a sleek silver car was being held open and after a teeny hesitation Alina realised that Demyan was waiting for her to get in.
In the back.
With him.
So this was how his PA lived, Alina thought as they drove through the city. With him, not beside him but separate, for she might as well not be there. At first he made no attempt at conversation, instead looking out the window, quite content not to fill the silence.
Alina’s heart was still hammering; it hadn’t stopped since they’d first met. It was close to one o’clock and almost five hours since first she had laid eyes on him and not by a flicker had his beauty or presence dimmed.
Alina stared out of her own window, unused to the awareness that had flooded her body, and then she heard his voice.
‘Roman was born there.’ He said it more to himself. Aware that his time in Australia was now limited, Demyan had been silently taking it all in. He stared at the hospital as they passed it, remembering how proud he had been that day, how determined he had been to do this right.
As Alina turned and glanced over, she noticed that all the arrogance in him seemed to have gone; she had never seen such sadness. Had she known him, even loosely, she would have followed instinct and asked what was wrong for there was torture in his eyes as they passed the hospital.