- -
- 100%
- +
Instead, he looked at her questioningly, reaching across the small table to take her hand. “What do you recommend, Grace?”
“I…um.” She glanced down at her hand wrapped in his far larger one. She could barely think with him touching her. “The…er…” She pulled her hand away under pretense of picking up the gently tattered menu that she’d long ago learned by heart. “The English breakfast tea is good. The pastries are excellent, and so are the sandwiches.” She looked up at Madame Charbon, handing back her menu. “I’ll have my usual.”
The woman nodded.
Maksim handed her his menu. “I’ll have the same.”
“Oui, monsieur.”
As the Frenchwoman departed, Grace looked at him in surprise. “You don’t even know what you just ordered!”
He shrugged. “You know this restaurant. I trust you.”
He trusted her. She tried not to feel flattered. “Want to know what you’re having?”
“I like surprises.”
Normally Grace didn’t, but she was starting to. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was so upset in the car. I guess you really weren’t insulting Alan.”
“He is lucky to have you.”
She stared down at the tiny table. The truth was it was sometimes grating how small her paycheck was. And never more so than now. She’d been his junior secretary for eighteen months before she was promoted to executive assistant six months ago. But in spite of her additional responsibilities, he’d never given her a raise commensurate with her new position. He’d always managed to put her off with an excuse and a smile.
Then he’d decided to pursue a long-shot merger with Exemplary Oil PLC and he’d abruptly moved them to London in early October. In L.A. Grace had had fewer expenses. She’d been able to live at home and help her family. Now that she lived in London and paid Alan rent, she was barely able to send her mother a hundred dollars a month.
This led to one inescapable conclusion: the looming foreclosure of her family’s home was entirely Grace’s fault.
As Madame Charbon arrived with the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and croissants, Grace tried to push the depressing thoughts away. They just made her feel more powerless and scared and…angry.
Alan will help me. He will, she repeated to herself.
“What are you thinking about, solnishka mayo?” Maksim asked, leaning forward as he looked at her keenly.
She gulped down some hot chocolate, scalding her tongue. “Nothing. Um. I was just wondering if you’ve ever ridden the Trans-Siberian Railroad.”
His dark eyebrows rose. “An odd question.”
“You’re Russian, aren’t you?” She smiled wistfully. “I used to dream about that train when I was a little girl, a train that crosses seven time zones and nearly six thousand miles, going all the way from Moscow to the Pacific Ocean.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said dryly. “I live in Moscow only a few months a year. When I travel or visit the northern oil fields I go by jet.”
“Of course you do,” she said with a sigh. “So where do you live when you’re not in Russia? London?”
“I have many houses around the world. Six or seven. I live in whichever one is convenient.”
She stared at him. “Six or seven? You’re not even sure how many?”
He shrugged. “I have as many as I need. I sell them when I’m bored.” He licked the thick whipped cream off the top of the mug with his wide tongue, causing her to stare in spite of herself. He took a sip of hot chocolate, then a bite of the croissant. “This is delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it. Alan hates hot chocolate.”
Maksim’s eyes suddenly sliced through hers. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
She felt sucker punched.
“What?” she whispered. “Who?”
“You’re his loyal slave. You live in his house. You spend your free hours running his errands. It’s plain you’re not doing it for the money, since you have none. There’s only one explanation. You love him.”
Grace opened up her mouth to deny it, but suddenly she was so tired of lying. Tired of holding everything inside, of keeping it together, of having no one to confide in and no one she could rely upon. She took a deep breath.
“Yes. I love him.” Sinking her head into her hands, she whispered, “It’s hopeless.”
“I know.” She looked up, saw surprising warmth and sympathy in his handsome face. “I’m usually on the other side of it. Old or young, secretaries imagine themselves in love with me and drop like flies from my office. It’s painful. It causes disruption. I hate it.”
“Me, too.” She gave a little laugh that ended with a sob—or was it a sob that ended with a laugh? She tried her best at a laissez-faire shrug. “And now he’s engaged to someone who’s beautiful, wealthy and so, well…”
“Vicious?” His eyes met hers. “Cruel and mean?”
With a gulp, she nodded. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. Didn’t you love her?”
He changed the subject. “You don’t have to endure it, Grace. Come work for me instead.”
It was a good thing she’d already finished her hot chocolate or it would have snorted out her nose. Her eyes flew open, and she saw he wasn’t joking. He was deadly serious.
Her throat closed.
“Work for you?” she gasped.
“I could use another secretary. Leave Barrington. Work for a man who will pay you well and take you far.” He smiled. “The fact that you’re in love with someone else is actually in your favor.”
She swallowed. “Even though it’s the man who stole your girlfriend?”
He took another drink of the hot chocolate.
“Delicious,” he murmured, then looked up at her. “I need a secretary I can trust, Grace. A smart woman who knows the meaning of loyalty. You wouldn’t regret changing your allegiance. I swear to you.”
For an instant she was tempted. What would it be like to work for this handsome prince, instead of Alan?
Maksim was handsome, dangerous and ruthless. But he was also a man she would be free to fight, free to leave, free to speak her mind with, because she did not love him!
“I would pay you double whatever Barrington’s paying you.”
Double?
She licked her lips. “Would you consider paying me in advance?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath, tempted beyond measure. This could save her mother’s house. Save everything.
“And the catch?”
“You would help me win the merger.”
“And Francesca?”
He shrugged, then held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Grace closed her eyes, remembering all the times Alan had teased her, flirted with her. He’d told her more than once that he never wanted her to leave him. “I just couldn’t survive without you, Gracie,” he’d said with his charming movie-star grin. And it had made her so happy! She’d hugged his words to her heart, hoping that he might be starting to see her as more than just a secretary!
Then Lady Francesca Danvers had offered him money and power in such a perfectly beautiful package.
But no matter how Alan had treated her, Grace couldn’t betray him.
Stubborn and foolish, she thought sourly, but she shook her head. “Thanks for asking, but my answer is no.”
Taking back his hand, he nodded. “I understand.”
But he didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he seemed to savor her refusal like a cat licking a bowl of cream.
Finishing the last crumbs of her croissant, Grace left some coins on the table and rose regretfully from her chair. She held out her hand.
“Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon, Prince Maksim.”
He looked at her, and for a moment she was lost in his gaze, swirling in the endless shades of gray.
“No. I thank you, Grace.” He took her hand in his own. A sizzling warmth spread through her body from their intertwined fingers. Then, still holding her hand, he kissed each of her fingers, and she shivered.
“Da svedanya, solnishka mayo. I’ll never forget the way you looked in the street, with the last rays of winter twilight in your pale-blond hair. Like an angel. Like the sun.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. An erotic charge arced through her, making her nipples tight and her breasts heavy. Her whole body was suddenly tense, waiting, waiting…
Looking up into her face, he murmured, “Until we meet again.”
He released her, and Grace walked out of the tea shop in a daze. As she slogged through the crowds outside Harrods, gripping her Leighton bag as if her life depended on it, she could still feel that sensual kiss against her palm.
With one brief touch of his lips, he’d branded her. In the dark winter night lit up by Christmas lights and shop windows, she looked down at her right hand, expecting to see the burn of his lips emblazoned on her skin for all the world to see.
But her skin was bare.
She knew she’d never see him again. Probably a good thing.
Definitely a good thing.
And yet…
When Alan yelled at her for not magically foreseeing his wishes in advance…when a check bounced in her bank account…when she was forced to watch the man she loved get married to another woman…when she felt helpless, hopeless, invisible…
She could treasure this one magical afternoon when she’d spent the day with a handsome prince who’d been kind to her. Who’d treated her like a princess.
As she walked home, the sleet softened to snow in the dark stillness of winter, leaving scattered, twisted flurries of flakes.
She’d loved Alan Barrington in hopeless silence for two years. But he’d never affected her like Maksim Rostov had. He’d never made her tremble and shake and feel hot all over. Maksim had changed her in a way she couldn’t understand.
But whatever he’d made her feel didn’t matter now. With a sigh that created a puff of white smoke in the frozen air, Grace climbed slowly up the front steps of the three-story town house she shared with her boss.
The fairy tale was over.
CHAPTER FOUR
ALAN was waiting for her at the door with twinkling blue eyes. He was so boyishly handsome, he could almost be called pretty. Beaming with excitement, he dragged her into his reception room.
“You got home just in time, Gracie! I have a present for you!”
He placed a plane ticket into her hands. She stared down at it, and the sparkling white lights of his elegantly decorated Christmas tree seemed to whirl around her in the front room of his Knightsbridge town house.
“Merry Christmas,” he purred.
Sucking in her breath, she looked up at him. And to think she’d wondered in her darker moments if he intentionally used her own feelings against her, taking advantage of her crush to avoid having to properly pay her. But with this gift, there could be no doubt that he truly cared for her…otherwise, why would he have done this?
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I wanted so much to go home for Christmas. But I didn’t have enough to—”
“I know, Gracie,” he said with a big smile.
“Thank you, Alan,” she said, feeling as if she was going to cry. “This means so much to me.”
“On Christmas Eve, as soon as the deal is finished, you’ll fly off to enjoy the sun and surf.” He sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll survive while you’re gone.”
She took a deep breath. “Alan, I have a really big favor to ask you—”
“Oh, no.” He groaned. “Not the raise again. Does it always have to be about money? I’m the CEO of Cali-West and you’re my righthand woman.” He gave her a wink. “Isn’t that glory enough for you?”
His righthand woman, but not the woman in his arms. Grace managed a weak smile. “You said we could talk about maybe a raise or bonus at the end of the year, and I’m really desperate, Alan, because—”
“Sorry, kiddo.” He held up his hand. “That’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’m late for my date with Francesca.”
“But Alan—”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I really promise this time.” He took her hand, and she felt nothing like the painful zing she’d experienced with Maksim. Alan’s hand was just warm and soft. “In the meantime, there’s something I need you to do for me. A teensy, small favor.” He flashed her a big white grin. “Help me get married.”
“Wh-what?”
“Francesca’s having trouble setting the wedding date. So I thought—why bother with a wedding at all? Why not just elope? That’s where you come in.” He gave her a bright smile. “Christmas Eve I want to elope. Scotland. Honeymoon in Barbados. I need you to make the arrangements.”
Alan didn’t realize what he was asking of her. How could he? To him, Halloween night had been just a kiss. To her, it had been the culmination of two years of fantasies. Which was probably why the kiss hadn’t felt nearly as intense as she’d imagined it would. Not even as intense as the way Prince Maksim’s lips had felt against her palm an hour before.
Trying to push the memory of the dark Russian prince from her mind, she took a deep breath. “Are you sure eloping is a good idea? The bride might prefer to choose when—”
“It’s perfect,” he said, frowning.
“All right,” she sighed. She suddenly realized she was still clutching the Leighton bag in her hands. “Here’s your gift.”
“Thanks.” Taking his coat from the hall closet, he slung the bag over his shoulder. He stopped at the door with a wink. “I’ll need this tonight to close the deal. I’ll be getting her something better for Christmas. In the meantime, start working on the elopement plans, will you?”
After Grace locked the door behind him, she turned back with a lump in her throat.
She’d thought buying gifts for his fiancée was bad. Planning their quickie wedding would be a thousand times worse.
It hurt more than she’d expected.
Because she’d spent the afternoon with Prince Maksim, she realized. Because for the first time in years she’d felt the full attention of a man’s eyes on her, the consideration of his touch and regard, and it had brought something to life inside her. Something that wanted to be seen. Something that wanted to be touched. It had felt so good. She’d felt…
Alive.
Now she just felt numb.
Grace went downstairs to her basement apartment. Closing the door quietly behind her, she changed out of her damp clothes. She put on an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants. She heated some leftover takeaway Thai food in her microwave. She sat down heavily on the couch. She turned on the old television. She placed a fork, the food and a diet soda on the coffee table. She got out her laptop to start making elopement arrangements for Christmas Eve, just two weeks away.
But instead of opening her laptop or watching TV, she wrapped herself in the quilt her mother had made her as a child. She sat on the couch and stared blankly at the wall.
He was really going to marry Lady Francesca Danvers. The vicious, skinny, gorgeous heiress who always got away with her bad behavior because she was so beautiful that men put up with it. Men would put up with anything to be with a girl like that.
While Grace was such a pushover she couldn’t even make Alan listen to her beg him for an advance. Not even though her family’s security depended on it.
Tears fell softly onto the frayed fabric of the quilt. Why hadn’t she found out until that morning that her father’s life insurance money was gone? Why hadn’t she known her mother had been keeping their financial difficulties secret? And why couldn’t she stop loving a man who so plainly saw her as nothing but a secretary?
She jumped when she heard a loud knock at her front door.
Fiercely wiping her eyes, she wrapped her mother’s quilt over her shoulders and rose from the couch. Alan had likely forgotten his key again and wanted to go up through her apartment. Her nervous heart beat faster. This time she would make him listen. I need an advance, she practiced in her mind. Please, Alan, I need $10,000 right away or my family will lose their home.
She opened the door into the dark, snowy night. “Alan, I need—”
Her words ended in a gasp.
The tall, dark-haired man who looked down at her with a gleam in his eye was definitely not her boss.
Prince Maksim leaned against the edge of the door, looking dangerous and oh, so seductive in a tuxedo beneath a black coat. Her heart pounded in a whole new way.
“What are you doing here?” she breathed.
“I forgot something,” he said, looking down at her tear-stained face.
“What?”
She caught a sudden brief blur of icy moonlight above as she felt his hands, his warmth, wrapping around her. Saw the colors of her quilt blur around her as he cupped her face.
“This,” he said simply.
And he kissed her.
The touch of Maksim’s mouth on hers was gentle at first. He pulled her close. She felt his hands brush through her hair before they moved slowly down her back. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest. He held her more tightly, deepening the embrace. His lips caressed hers, leading her, teaching her, making her sizzle all the way to her toes. He forced her lips wide, penetrating her mouth, teasing and licking her with the tip of his tongue. Her whole body became tight with longing, and her core poured with heat.
It was the kiss she’d always dreamed of. The whole world seemed to whirl and shudder around her like a tornado as she was swept up in his fierce embrace.
Was she dreaming? She had to be dreaming!
Feeling Maksim’s strong arms around her, his lips taking his pleasure and demanding she take her own, was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Nothing like Alan’s sloppy, drunken kiss six weeks earlier.
Alan!
She was kissing Alan’s enemy in his own house!
“Stop,” she whimpered against his lips, shuddering as she pulled away. “Please stop.”
He pushed blond tendrils from her face. “Because you’re in love with Barrington?”
“No…yes.” She shook her head with a tearful laugh. “You just have to go!”
“You just have to come with me.”
He wanted her to go out with him? “I don’t need your pity—”
“Pity?” His eyes darkened until they were almost black in the snowy, cloud-ribboned moonlit night. “I have been accused of having no heart. I am telling you the truth, Grace. Take this as a warning.”
And he kissed her again.
This time he was not gentle. It was a hard plundering of her mouth that bruised her lips and left her dizzy, aching with pleasure.
“Come out with me tonight,” he whispered against her cheek. “You cannot refuse me.”
Though she’d been standing for five minutes in the below-street-level entrance of her basement flat, she was barely aware of the cold.
But how could she be tempted? She loved Alan!
Didn’t she?
“I won’t turn on him,” she gasped, still trembling with the shock of desire. “Not for any price. You won’t kiss a betrayal out of me.”
“You think that’s the only reason I would kiss you?” The rich moonlight moved against scattered dark clouds above them, wistful and haunted, tracing his razor-sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw. “You are a desirable woman, solnishka mayo.”
“Solnishka mayo?” she repeated.
“Sunlight,” he whispered.
She choked out a laugh, glancing down at her flannel pajama pants, her ratty sweatshirt. She pulled her mother’s quilt a little tighter over her shoulders. “You’re blind.”
“You don’t know your own beauty.” He stroked her shoulder, running his hand down the quilt as he looked down into her eyes, towering over her. “Let me show you the truth.”
“But I can’t trust you,” she whispered. Prince Maksim was dangerous and ruthless. Though knowing he was forbidden to her just made her want him more….
He leaned down to kiss one cheek softly, then the other, as he spoke against her skin. “I’m not leaving without you.”
The touch of his lips against her cheek sent aching tension to her breasts and down deep in her belly. She longed for him to kiss her again. In his arms she couldn’t think, she couldn’t do anything but feel. She closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath against the tender flesh of her ear. “I…I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” he said. “Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.”
With those words he pulled away from her. She nearly protested aloud and her eyelids reluctantly fluttered open. He was at least six inches taller than her, making her feel delicate. “No.”
“Stubborn and foolish,” he repeated softly, rubbing his thumb lightly against her swollen lower lip. “Why do you resist me?”
“Because…because…” She couldn’t think straight with him stroking her lip like that. Grace’s whole body ached. “I…don’t have anything to wear.”
With a sudden grin, he snapped his fingers. A body-guard—a dark, hulking man who had to weigh three hundred pounds—ambled down the steps to her basement door with two primrose boxes in his arms. He set them near the doorway, then disappeared back up to the street.
An exclamation of shock escaped Grace as she stared at the two recognizably colored boxes embossed with the Leighton coat of arms.
“What have you done?”
“The coat,” he said. “The dress.”
She licked her lips. “Not the ones from Leighton.”
“I knew you wanted them, though you denied it.”
Remembering how she’d yearned for the black coat and the teal silk cocktail gown, a shiver swept through her body. She’d been afraid to even touch them in the store. At the thought of wearing them against her skin, her heart pounded.
He’s luring me, she warned herself desperately. Luring me to my own destruction!
“I guessed your size, but have others in the car if necessary.” His eyes met hers. “Women’s clothes have always been a mystery to me. I’ve always been more interested in taking them off.”
She gave an involuntary shiver. Then she looked down at the boxes, licking her lips, torn with longing.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Fair warning, Grace,” he said quietly. “I will seduce you tonight.”
Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart almost felt about ready to explode from her chest.
“You’re welcome to try,” she managed over the rapid pounding of her heart. “I will resist you.”
He gave her a slow, seductive smile. “I would expect nothing less.”
She looked at the Leighton boxes. “And I can’t…won’t…accept expensive gifts.”
“They weren’t expensive.”
“I saw one of the price tags in the boutique. The coat alone cost ten thousand pounds.”
“You are worth far more than that.” He stroked her cheek. “I would pay any price to give you pleasure. Any price to please you.”
The reminder of his wealth and power made her tremble. The money that felt like nothing to him was a fortune to her. More than enough to save her family. She closed her eyes. No. She wouldn’t think about it. Asking Alan’s enemy for help would blacken her soul beyond recognition. She might be weak, but she wasn’t a traitor.
“If Alan found out I went out with you, he’d fire me.”
“In which case you could come work for me,” he said.
“But—”
“Either wear these clothes or go naked.” He gave her a slow-rising smile. “Decide. Or I will.”
Without asking permission, he pushed past her into her flat, carrying the boxes and pulling Grace behind him. He closed the door. They were alone.
The air seemed to leave the small apartment.
Prince Maksim Rostov—in her flat? She saw him look around at her sagging, plaid, threadbare couch. The day-old Thai takeout in the cardboard container. The blaring television with faded stars sparkling in sequins dancing to ballroom music. The laptop computer set up by her couch. Her cheeks burned.
He turned to her with a sensual smile. “Or we could just stay in.”
Stay here—with him?
Ohmygodohmygod. No.
“The dress and coat would have to be a loan,” she heard herself whisper. “I would give them back to you at the end of the night.”