Книга - Kholodov’s Last Mistress
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Kholodov's Last Mistress
Kate Hewitt
An innocent in MoscowWhen Sergei Kholodov rescued American tourist Hannah Pearl, her wide-eyed approach to the world shocked the man whose life had left him bitterly cynical. Hating how powerfully she affected him, Sergei made a cold-hearted decision to obliterate his dark emotionsHe would lose himself in sinful pleasure before pushing her away and destroying her dreams. One year later, Sergei returns. Hannah has been seared on his memory perhaps one more night will allow him to forget her once and for all? Or will he realise her innocence is a Pearl beyond price and that hell never have enough?
Do you want me to kiss you?
Hannah let out a little laugh. Youre a man of some experience, I should think. Cant you tell?
He laughed back, softly. Yes, I can tell.
She was innocenteven naive, yesbut she knew what was going on. Knew what Sergei wanted and what she wanted. Hannah wanted him too much to care if she seemed transparent, obvious, eager. She wanted this, but she still would prefer him to take the lead.
And Sergei did just that, sliding his hands under her hair, drawing her closer. She came willingly, even as her heart thudded hard and her head fell back and she waited for the feel of his mouth on hers
About the Author
KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon
romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and shes continued to read them ever since.
She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence longfortunately, theyve become a bit more detailed as shes grown older.
She has written plays, short stories, and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling, and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreamsher older brothers childhood friendshe lived in England for six years and now resides in Connecticut, with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.
Kate loves to hear from readersyou can contact her through her website: www.kate-hewitt.com
Recent titles by the same author:
MR AND MISCHIEF
BOUND TO THE GREEK
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Kholodovs Last Mistress
Kate Hewitt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
SHE was about to be pickpocketed. Sergei Kholodov watched with an experienced and jaundiced eye as three street urchins thrust a bunch of newspapers into the face of the foreign girl. Or woman rather; he judged her to be in her early twenties. With her straight teeth and hair and bright red parka, she was definitely American.
Shed been standing in front of St Basils Cathedral, gazing up at the swirled onion domes with a map forgotten in her hand when they approached her, speaking urgently, pushing the papers. He knew how it went. She obviously didnt. She laughed a little, took a step back, her hands batting the papers, and smiled. Smiled. She had no sense whatsoever.
The kids must have seen that. If it was apparent to him, standing twenty metres away, it had to be utterly obvious to them. Shed been chosen for that reason; she was an easy target. They kept the papers close to her face, surrounding her. He heard her laugh again and say in clumsy Russian, Spasiba, spasiba, nyet
Sergeis eyes narrowed as one of the urchins darted around and slipped his hand into the pocket of the girls parka. He knew how quick and quiet you could be when you slid your hand into someones pocket, grasping fingers reaching for the solid leather bulk of a wallet, the comforting crispness of folded bills. He knew the thrill of danger and the satisfactionmixed with scornof a successful lift.
Suppressing a sigh, Sergei decided hed better intervene. He had no great love of Americans, but the woman was young and clearly had no idea she was about to be parted from her cash. He strode quickly towards her, the tourists and hucksters parting instinctively for him.
He grabbed the kid whod had his hand in her pocket by the scruff of his worn and dirty sweatshirt, watched with grim satisfaction as his feet pedalled uselessly through the air. The other kids ran. Sergei felt a stab of pity for the one hed caught; his friends had been quick to abandon him. He gave him a little shake.
Pokazhite mne. Give it to me.
Spasiba, spasiba, the boy protested. I dont have anything.
Sergei felt a hand, gentle yet surprisingly strong, on his shoulder. Please, the woman said in badly accented Russian, leave him alone.
He was stealing from you, Sergei replied without turning. He shook the boy again. Pokazhite mne! The girls grip strengthened, shoving his shoulder. It didnt hurt, but he was surprised enough that his hold on the boy loosened for a mere second. The street urchin made good use of what he surely knew was his only chance at freedom. He kicked out and connected with Sergeis groincausing him to swearand then ran for it.
Sergei drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to block the pain that was ricocheting through his mid-region. He straightened and turned to the woman who had the gall to stare at him with a particularly annoying brand of self-righteous indignation. Satisfied? he queried sardonically, in English, and her eyesa startling shade of violetwidened in surprise.
You speak English.
Better than you speak Russian, Sergei informed her. Why did you intervene? Youll never get your money back now.
She frowned. My money?
That kid you were so kindly defending was pickpocketing you.
Her expression cleared and she smiled and shook her head. No, no, youre mistaken. He was just trying to sell me a newspaper. I would have bought one too, but I cant read Russian that well. They were a little overeager, she allowed, clearly trying to sound fair, and Sergei could not keep the incredulity from showing in his face. Could someone really be so naive? She frowned again, noticing his expression. You know that word?
Yes, I know that word, and a few others besides. They werent overeager, lady, they were conning you. He arched his eyebrows. You know that word?
She looked startled, and a little offended, but she let it go, shaking her head wryly. Sorry. I know my Russians awful. But I really dont think those kids were up to any harm.
Sergeis mouth thinned. Check, then.
Check ?
Check your pockets.
She shook her head again, still smiling, still naive. Honestly, they were just trying to
Check.
Her eyes flashed indigo and for a moment Sergei saw something under the sweetness, something powerful and raw, and he felt a flicker of interest. Maybe even of lust. She was quite pretty, with those violet eyes and heart-shaped face. With that bulky parka he couldnt see much else. Then she shrugged, smiling in good-natured defeat, and spread her hands. Fine, if you want me to prove it to Her voice trailed off as she reached into her pockets, and Sergei watched the emotions flash across her face. Confusion, impatience, uncertainty, disbelief, outrage. Hed seen the progression a thousand times before, usually from afar with a half dozen twenties in his fist.
Except, he realised as he watched her closely, she wasnt outraged. Hurt, maybe, by the way her eyes darkened to the colour of storm clouds, but then she shook her head again in that accepting way of hers that both annoyed and affected him and shrugged. Youre right. They took my cash.
Why was she so good-natured? Why, Sergei asked in as reasonable a tone as he could manage, did you keep cash in your pocket?
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and his narrowed gaze was drawn to that innocent action. Again he felt that flicker. Her lips were full and rosebud-pink, and something about the way she nipped at them with those straight white American teeth made his middle clench. Or maybe lower down. Irritation and interest, annoyance and attraction.
Id just been to the bank, she said, her tone one of explanation rather than defence. I hadnt had time to put it away
Shed been standing staring at St Basils with a map dangling forgotten from her hand. Shed had plenty of time. But why should he care? Sergei asked himself. Why should he bother even having this conversation? She was just another American tourist. Hed seen plenty of those over the years, from the first ones who goggled at the pathetic obscurity of an actual Russian orphan to the ones who judged with an assessing eye and brought in an army of therapists and psychologists to make sure no child was too damaged. As if they had any idea. And then of course tourists like this woman, who swarmed Red Square and gazed at the Kremlin and the GUM department store and all the rest as if everything were no more than a bizarre and rather quaint antiquity, rather than a lasting witness to his countrys heart-wrenching history. He had no time for any of them, and certainly not for her. Hed already half turned away when he heard her soft little exhalation of dismay, no more than a breath, as if she wouldnt allow herself any more.
Sergei turned back. What?
My passport
You kept your passport in your coat pocket?
I told you, Id just been to the bank
Your passport, Sergei repeated, because he honestly couldnt believe someone would actually keep their cash and passport in an unzipped coat pocket while they walked across Red Square.
She smiled ruefully now, acknowledging his incredulity, accepting it even. I know, I know. But I was cashing my travellers cheques and they needed ID
Travellers cheques, Sergei repeated. This got better and better. Or worse and worse, depending how you looked at it. Hed thought with the advent of computer banking those cheques had become obsolete. Why on earth were you using travellers cheques? Why not an ATM card? Much simpler. Less chance of being stolen. Unless, of course, you kept the card in your coat pocket, with the pin number kindly attached with Sellotape to the back, as this woman probably would. Just to help a thief out.
She lifted her chin, and he saw that flare of indigo again. I prefer travellers cheques.
Now he was the one to shrug. Fine. And he would have turned away, he would have turned away so quickly and easily, if not for the way her smile faltered, her lips trembling, and he saw desolation cloud her eyes to a grey-violet, the long lashes sweeping downwards to hide the sorrow hed already seen there. He felt a painful twist in the region of his heart, a kind of raw emotion he didnt like feeling, hadnt let himself feel in years. Yet somehow with one sorrowful look she hadnt even wanted him to see, he felt it. And it made him furious.
Hannah knew it had been rather foolish of her to carry her cash and passport in the front pocket of her coat; she got that. She would have put it away in her zipped purse except shed become distracted by the beauty of St Basils, its colourful domes piercing the hard blue of the sky. And, she acknowledged, shed been thinking about how today was her last day of travel, how tomorrow shed be back in upstate New York, opening the shop, taking inventory, trying to make things work. And while shed known it shouldnt have, the thought gave her a little pang ofsorrow? Regret? Something like that. Something she pushed away, didnt want to feel.
And now this Russian assassin was looking at her with daggers in his ice-blue eyes. Hannah didnt know what he did for a living, but the man was seriously intimidating. He wore a black leather coat over black jeans, not exactly the friendliest of outfits. His hair was a relatively ordinary brown but it was cut very short and framed a face so coldly arresting that Hannahs heart had near stopped in her chest when hed approached her.
And now this the last of her money gone. Her passport gone. And her flight back to New York left in five hours.
What? the man asked brusquely. Hed turned back to her, impatience and irritation evident in every taut line of his well-muscled body. The man radiated lethal, barely leashed power. Yet still hed turned back, even it seemed as if hed done so against his will, or at least his better judgment. You know youll need to go to your embassy, dont you?
Yes
Theyll help you, he explained to her, slowly, as if she had trouble understanding her own language. They can issue you a new passport.
Right. She swallowed. How long does that usually take, do you know?
A few hours to fill out the paperwork, I should think. He arched an eyebrow. Does that inconvenience you?
It does, actually, she informed him, managing a wry smile despite the panic plunging icily in her stomach. She was starting to realise how awful this really was. No passport. No money. Missing her flight. In Moscow.
All bad.
Perhaps you should have thought of that when you wandered around Red Square, the man returned. You might as well have hung a placard around your neck declaring you were a tourist, ripe for the taking.
I am a tourist, Hannah pointed out in what she thought was quite a reasonable tone. And I dont know why its got you so worked up. Its not your money, or your passport.
The man stared at her, his expression turning from fierce to something close to bewildered. Youre right, he said after a moment. Theres no reason for me to be worked up at all. Yet he didnt turn away as shed half expected him to, just kept staring at her as if she were a puzzle he couldnt quite solve.
In any case, Hannah said, I dont mind that they took my money. Well, she wouldnt have minded, except that it was the only money shed had left. And as for the passport
She lifted her chin, staring the man down. Sort of. They need it more than I do, and at least now they can buy food
You think theyre going to buy food?
She shook her head. Dont tell me they must be buying drugs or something awful like that. Even children who live on the street need to eat, and they couldnt have been more than twelve
Twelve is plenty old on the street, the man informed her. And food is easy enough to score, just steal from a fruit and vegetable stall or wait out in the back of a restaurant. You dont use money to buy food. Not unless you have to.
Hannah stared at him, surprised by his knowing tone, discomfited by the fierce light in those ice-blue eyes. Sorry, she muttered. And thanks for helping me out. If you hadnt come alongwell, if I hadnt interfered, maybe Id still have my money. And her passport.
The man jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. Youll go to your embassy? he asked, sounding almost as if the wordsthe concernwere forced from him. You know where it is?
Yes. She didnt, but she wasnt going to give this man any more reasons to think her an idiot. Thank you for helping me out.
Good luck, he said after a moment, and, nodding her own farewell, Hannah turned and started walking across Red Square.
Now that she was no longer dealing with that man and his forceful presence, the panic lodged icily in the pit of her stomach was becoming heavier. Icier. She swallowed, squared her shouldersjust in case he was watchingand strode towards the other side of the square. Shed look at her map then, and figure out where the American Embassy was.
Two hours later shed finally reached the window in the consular department of the American Embassy, only to be rather flatly told that she had to report the theft to the Moscow Police Department, fill out a form, and bring it back to the embassy before she reapplied for a passport.
Reapply, Hannah repeated, not liking the word. Shed been hopingprayingthat they could just give her some sort of stamped form, like a get-out-of-jail-free card that would let her on the aeroplane. Get her home.
The woman behind the window looked at her without a flicker of sympathy or interest. To be fair, Hannah told herself, she probably heard this kind of sob story all the time. And it wasnt her job to help Hannah, just give the information. Still, Hannah had to swallow past the lump in her throat as she explained, But my flight leaves tonight.
Reschedule, the woman said. It will take days to get a passport, and after that you have to reapply for your entry visa.
An entry visa? But Im leaving.
She shrugged. Your Russian contact will have to vouch for you. She passed a paper under the window and Hannah stared at it, saw the hundred-dollar fee for a passport application.
My contact is just a hotel, Hannah said, desperation now edging her voice. I dont think
Talk to the police, the woman advised. You must do that first. Already she was looking over Hannahs shoulder, indicating that the next person should come forward.
But Hannah leaned forward, flushing as she spoke in a whisper I dont have any money.
Still no sympathy. Use the ATM. Or a credit card.
Of course. That was the normal, expected thing to do. Except she didnt have that much money in the bank to withdraw, and shed cut up her credit cards after seeing the bills her parents had racked up before their deaths. Maybe not the wisest decision, but now that shed finally paid the bills off shed been determined never to be in debt again. The woman must have seen something of this in her face for she said, a touch impatiently, Call someone, then. In America. They can wire you money.
Right. It was finally sinking in just what kind of trouble she was in. Thank you for your time, she said, and fortunately her voice didnt wobble.
Any time, the woman said in a bored voice, and the next person started forward.
Hannah walked slowly outside; there was a chill to the spring air now, and the sky had darkened to a steely grey.
She was really trying hard not to panic. She normally wasnt a panicker, tried to see the best in everything and everyone.
Only now it was getting dark and she had no money, no passport, no options. She could call a friend, as the woman had advised, but Hannah resisted that option. Shed have to reverse the charges of the telephone call, and then explain her awful predicament, and then whomever she calledand no names sprang readily to mindwould have to drive fifty miles to Albany to wire the money, and that money would have to be hundreds of dollars at the very least. Passport fees, hotel stays, food, perhaps even another plane ticket. It could be thousands of dollars.
She didnt have friends with that kind of money, and she didnt have that kind of money either. Shed used the last of her own savings to fund this trip, knowing it was foolish, impulsive, everything she never was. Except maybe she was foolish, and stupid even, as that man in Red Square had so obviously thought, because if she had any sense at all she wouldnt be standing on the steps of the American Embassy, people and traffic streaming indifferently, impatiently all around her, with no place to go, no idea what she could do. Nothing.
She swallowed the panic that had started in her stomach and was now steadily working its way up her throat. She wasnt completely lost. She had a little money in the bank, enough to give her some time
And then?
There you are.
Hannah blinked, focused in the oncoming dusk, and then stared in surprise as the man from Red Square strode towards her, his leather coat billowing blackly out behind him, a scowl on his face. He looked like an avenging angel, his blue eyes blazing determination and maybe a little irritation as well. Still, she could not stem the unreasonable tide of relief and gratitude that washed over her at the sight of him. A familiar face.
What are you doing here?
I wanted to make sure youd sorted out your papers.
That was very kind of you, she said, cautiously, because three months of travel had taught her to be, if not cynical, then at least sensible. And unnecessary.
I know. The corner of his mouth quirked very slightly, so slightly that it couldnt be called a smile in the least. Yet still the sight of it made Hannah feel safer, and stronger, even as she felt a shiver of awareness. He was, she acknowledged, a very attractive man. Did you get your passport sorted? he asked and she shook her head.
No. I got a form. She waved the paper half-heartedly. Apparently Im to go to the police department and file a report there.
Theyre all disorganised. He shook his head in disgust. Or corrupt. Usually both. It could take hours.
Wonderful. Her plane left in three hours. Clearly she wasnt going to be on it.
Do you have any money at all? the man asked abruptly and Hannah shrugged, not wanting to admit just how much trouble she was in. A little, she said. In the bank. But not enough to pay the passport fee, and a hotel, and meals and other expenses besides. Not nearly enough.
A credit card?
He must have been speaking to the woman in the embassy. Or maybe he just knew everything. Um no.
He shook his head with that rather contemptuous incredulity she was coming to know so well. You embark on international travel, to Russia of all places, without even a credit card, and clearly no savings?
Put like that, it does sound pretty stupid, doesnt it? Hannah agreed. She wasnt about to explain how she hadnt wanted this trip to send her into debt, or why she was wary of credit cards. It was just, she explained quietly, this trip was kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
He looked sceptical. Of course. Really.
Yes, really. You have that disdain thing down pat, by the way. I dont think Ive been lectured to so much since I was in elementary school.
He let out a little bark of laughter that surprised her, it was so unexpected. She smiled, glad that he seemed to possess a sense of humour after all. I am simply surprised, he said, his expression turning stern once more. Have you been travelling long?
Three months.
And you have not encountered problems before this?
Not as big as this. I was charged double at a restaurant in Italy, and a train conductor was really rude
That is all?
I guess Im lucky. Or at least I was.
I suppose, the man said, I shouldnt even ask if you have travel insurance.
Now that hadnt even crossed her mind. Hannah managed a grin. Nope.
He raised his eyebrows. Nope, I shouldnt ask, or nope, you dont?
Take your pick.
One tiny corner of his mouth quirked up again, and Hannah felt her heart skip a silly beat. He was intimidating and stern and even a little scary, but he was also incredibly good-looking. Sexy, even, especially when he smiled.
Were you planning to stay in this country long?
Actually, my plane leaves she checked her watch in two hours.
He stared at her, eyebrows arched in incredulity. Today is your last day?
Apparently not. Mother Russia is insisting I stay a little longer. I need an entry visa as well as a passport.
The man shook his head, clearly rendered speechless by her predicament. Hannah could hardly resent his incredulity. Shed really been rather foolish. And she could have so easily prevented this, as this man had pointed out. A credit card, a zipped pocket, a little more savoir faire.
You must, he finally said, at least have some friends who could wire you some money.
Well, not exactly. He arched one eyebrow, the gesture saturnine and unbearably eloquent. I live in a small town, Hannah explained. And it would be difficult to wire
No one can help you out when you are desperate? I thought small American towns were full of do-gooders. Everyone knows everyone and is willing to help each other out.
I think youre thinking of Mayberry, she said, naming a fictional town in a 1960s television programme where the sun always shone and people ambled down to the drug store for an ice-cream soda.
So your town isnt like that?
Hannah didnt like what he was implying. What did he have against her, anyway? Just that shed been phenomenally stupid and left her passport in her pocket? He seemed bent on a mission to discredit and disillusion her. I just have to think about it, she said evenly. And who to call. Who could and would drive the distance, both literally and figuratively. Ashley, maybe, but with her move and new job she was just getting on her feet financially.
And while youre thinking ? He glanced around at the darkening streets, the steady traffic.
Ill figure something out. She could fetch her bag from the hotel, find some place cheaper. It was a start, at least. Why do you care, anyway? Hannah eyed him, his close-cut hair, his icy eyes, the overwhelming breadth of his shoulders under all that black leather.
The mans eyes narrowed even as his lips twitched. Dont worry, he told her dryly. I have no intention of enacting any of the options that are undoubtedly racing through your terrified mind. Let me introduce myself properly. He slid a wallet from the inside pocket of his coatof course hed keep it thereand from it extracted a crisp white business card.
Hannah took the card warily, for, although she wasnt generally a suspicious person, she still had sense. No matter what this man thought. She wasnt going to trust him. Yet, anyway. She glanced down at the card, her eyes widening slightly at the words printed on it in stark black ink. Sergei Kholodov, CEO, Kholodov Enterprises, and an address of an office building in Moscows centre. She handed the card back to him.
Impressive. Of course anyone could print up a fake business card, even an expensive-looking one like that. This man could still be a drug dealer or a slave trader or who knew what else. She folded her arms across her chest, conscious of the chilly wind ruffling her hair and cutting through her parka.
I can see youre not convinced.
Im not sure why youre here.
At least youre finally showing some common sense, he remarked dryly. To tell you the truth, I feel a bit responsible for the theft of your things.
Why? I was the one who forced you to let that little boy go.
You didnt force anything, he told her a bit sharply, and Hannah suppressed a small smile that shed actually pricked his pride. It made him seem more approachable, if such a thing were possible. She wasnt sure it was.
Sorry, she said, her lips twitching. I distracted you then from your manly effort.
He didnt like that either, judging by his scowl. I could have come over sooner, he told her. I saw what those kids were doing.
You watched?
I waited a moment too long, he clarified. And in any case, you dont have many options.
That was certainly true. Im still not sure how that affects you, Hannah said.
You can stay the night at my hotel. In the morning I can help you sort something out with the police and the embassy.
He made it sound so simple. Maybe there was a get-out-of-jail-free card after all. Thats very nice of you, Hannah said at last. She still felt uncertain, even suspicious. It seemed too easy. Too nice. For him, anyway. What hotel? she finally asked as her mind considered and discarded non-existent possibilities.
The Kholodov.
The Kholodov? It was one of the most luxurious hotels in Moscow, and way, way out of her budget. And he, she recalled from the card, was Sergei Kholodov. That Kholodov.
Now his mouth kicked up at one corner, and even though it still wasnt really a smile it transformed his face, lightening his eyes, softening his features, so Hannah felt a sudden blazing bolt of awareness ignite her senses. When he smiled he really did look amazing.
Youve heard of it.
Hasnt everyone?
He shrugged even as his mouth quirked a little more, revealing a surprising dimple. The assassin had a dimple. She felt another bolt of awareness, as if her senses had been struck by lightning. It wasnt, she decided, an unpleasant sensation. Not at all.
So, he said, you might as well stay there.
Hannah hesitated. She believed in the best of people, wanted to believe in the best in him. She just didnt want to be even more foolish than shed already been. Its very nice of you to offer
If youre worried about security, you can take a taxi yourself to the hotel. Ill pay for the fare.
You dont
He arched an eyebrow. You dont have any money, do you? And trust me, it is no trouble. I have empty rooms. I have plenty of money. And, he added, glancing at his watch, I have things to do. So make up your mind.
When he put it like that, it sounded sensible. And surely her best option. Okay, Hannah said at last. Thank you.
I told you, it is no trouble. Sergei stretched one arm out towards the street and within seconds a taxi cab had screeched to a halt in front of him. Sergei dismissed it, and the next one he flagged as well, explaining tersely, Theyre both unmarked. Youll feel safer in an official taxi, with a meter. His consideration for such a detail touched her.
Finally a legit taxi pulled to the kerb, and Sergei opened the door. The Kholodov, he told the driver, handing him a wad of rubles. He glanced at Hannah. Ill phone and make sure theyre expecting you. We can get your bags sent over later. Is that sufficient?
Sufficient? It was crazy. Yet she understood what he was asking, that he was taking these measures to make her feel safe, and she appreciated it more than she could put into words. Hed saved her, quite literally. Thank you. I dont know what to
Go. He practically pushed her towards the cab, and then slammed the door as soon as shed slid into the seat.
Say, she finished in a whisper as the cab sped away into the darkness and she wondered if shed ever see her saviour again.
CHAPTER TWO
YOU wanted to know about the girl?
Sergei glanced up from the papers hed been scanning to scowl at his assistant, Grigori. The girl
Hannah Pearl, hed discovered with a little bit of research, lone traveller, ditzy American. He did not want to know about the girleven if he hadnt been able to get her out of his mind since hed sent her off in a taxi two hours ago. Hed come back to his office, changed out of the street clothes he wore whenever he went to the unsavoury areas of the city in search of Varya. He hadnt found her; hed found a beguiling American instead.
Even now he found himself thinking about the violet of her eyes, those rose-pink lips. He wondered what kind of figure her bulky parka had hid. But even more so than her physical charms, of which he acknowledged she had several, hed been bizarrely fascinatedand irritatedby her honesty. Her optimism. Shed seemed so unspoiled. When had he last encountered a persona womanlike that?
Shes settled? he asked tersely. That was all he needed to know.
Yes, in the grand suite.
Hed given her the best room in the hotel. Stupid, perhaps, and unnecessary, but he hadnt liked seeing her looking so lost as she stood on the steps of the embassy. He hated seeing people vulnerable, hated seeing that shadow of uncertainty and fear in someones eyes. Hed seen it far too often. And for a moment, a crazy, regrettable moment, the American had actually reminded him of Alyona. And he never thought of Alyona.
Yet in that moment on the steps when Hannahs eyes had clouded and shed lifted her chinseeming, for an instant, so braveshe had reminded him, and it had made him approach her, offer things hed had no intention of offering. Feel things he didnt want to feel.
Of course, hed already made the decision to find her at the embassy when hed seen her on the steps, felt that protective tug. When shed walked away from him in Red Square hed felt something else he didnt like to feel: guilt. Hed watched those kids run their grift and he could have stopped it sooner. Maybe if he had, if he hadnt taken those few scornful seconds to just watch, shed still have her money and passport. Shed be on a plane back to America, instead of upstairs in the best room of his hotel.
Upstairs
Now his mindand bodywent in a totally different direction. He didnt feel protective so much as possessive. He was curious about the body hidden beneath that parka, those eyes that darkened to storm when she felt something other than that relentless optimism. Curious and also determined that the only thing this woman would awaken in him was lust.
Impulsively, yet with iron-like decisiveness, he reached for a piece of heavy ivory stationery embossed with the Kholodov crest and scrawled a message. Folding it, he handed it to Grigori with a level look that ensured no more questions would be asked. Deliver that to her. And prepare the private booth at the restaurant for dinner. For two.
Grigori nodded and hesitated by the door. You found Varya? he asked and Sergei let out a heavy sigh.
No. Hed been too distracted by a certain American to devote any more time to his search for Varya. He knew she was in trouble again; the tearful, incoherent message on his private voice mail had given testament to that. Yet when was Varya not in trouble?
Shell turn up again, Grigori said, and Sergei knew he was trying to convince himself more than Sergei. The three of them had banded together back in the orphanage, and Grigori, Sergei suspected, was more than half in love with Varya, and had been since they were children. She always does.
Yes. Yet he did not want Varya to turn up as a nameless, disease-riddled corpse forgotten in a doorway or floating in the Moskva River. But how many times could he save her? Hed already learned to his own frustration and sometimes despair how few people you could really save. Sometimes not even yourself.
Grigori held up the note, and Sergei half regretted his impulse to write it. Ill deliver this now. He nodded his assent, knowing it was too late for regrets. And better that he put Hannah Pearl in her place as a woman to be desired and discarded rather than anything else. Anything deeper.
A woman who made him think of Alyona, and remember the kind of boy hed once been, as youthful and naive as she so obviously still was.
No, Sergei thought as he gazed moodily out at a darkening sky, this was much better.
Hannah gazed around the gorgeous hotel suite, half afraid to touch anything. The place was amazing. And huge. Shed actually thought the closet was another bedroom, until shed realised there was no bed in it.
What kind of man was Sergei Kholodov anyway?
A tremor ran through her, something half between alarm and excitement. He was that kind of man. She might not have a lot of experience when it came to menHadley Springs didnt have a great dating scenebut she still recognised her own reaction. There was something so blatantly sexy about Sergei Kholodov, the way he emanated all that authority, the iciness of his eyes, the leashed power of his body. Shed never been with a more exciting person. Man.
Yet it hardly mattered, because Hannah doubted shed ever see him again. His kindness was already more than Hannah had ever expected. So why was she still thinking about him?
It was hard not to think of him. The events of the last few hours had been both surreal and overwhelming, from the first moment that Sergei had strode across Red Square, to seeing him outside the American Embassy, to entering his amazing and opulent hotel. It was the stuff of fantasies, of soap operas, not the life of a very ordinary woman from a tiny town in upstate New York. Nothing like this had happened to her for the entire three months of her trip, and now on the last day her world was spinning.
Well, hopefully it would settle right back on its axis tomorrow, when Sergei helped her get a passport and a plane out of here.
Did that mean she would see him again?
Hannah decided not to overthink it. She was going to take this crazy ride, enjoy it as much as possible, and it would all end tomorrow when lifeGod willingreturned to normal. Right now she wanted a good, long soak in the swimming-pool-size sunken tub shed seen in the bathroom.
Her suitcase, amazingly, had arrived in her room shortly after shed got there. Hannah had no idea how Sergei had arranged that; she hadnt even told him her name, much less the hotel at which shed been staying. The man definitely had some serious power. Still, she was glad to have her things and she was just unzipping the single case when a discreet knock sounded at the door.
Hannah tensed, felt that flip of excitement and alarm.
Running a quick hand over her hair, she hurried to the door and peered through the peephole, suppressing a ridiculous stab of disappointment that it wasnt Sergei.
She opened the door to a slight, serious-looking man in a sober suit. A port-wine birthmark covered half his face, and he blinked with a kind of short-sighted owlishness.
Miss Pearl, my name is Grigori and I am Mr Kholodovs personal assistant. I have a missive for you from him.
A missive? It sounded important. Hannah took the folded paper the man had handed to her. Thank you.
May I give him your reply?
Oh right. Quickly, fumbling a bit, she unfolded the paper and scanned the two lines that had been written in a bold black scrawl. Please join me for dinner in the hotel restaurant at eight. Sergei.
She swallowed, looked up, saw Grigori waiting. Well, she did need to eat. And a public restaurant was a safe and fairly innocuous place. And she was curious, and excited, and a little nervous. It seemed this crazy ride had a few more dips and turns. Why on earth did Sergei Kholodov want to have dinner with her? Was he just being nice or ?
Miss Pearl?
Okay. Yes. Thank you. Id beahhappy to join Mr Kholodov at eight.
Very good. Grigori snapped his heels together militarystyle and turned to leave.
Grigori
He turned back. Yes, Miss Pearl?
IsThat is She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Has Mr Kholodov owned this hotel for very long? She wanted to know something about this enigmatic man, something his assistant would be willing to answer.
Grigori frowned slightly. I believe it has been five years, Miss Pearl. There is a pamphlet in the desk drawer concerning the history of the hotel, if you are interested.
Okay. Great. Thanks. Smiling awkwardly, Hannah closed the door. Still dazed by the sudden and entirely unexpected invitation, she went to the desk and took out the pamphlet. She skimmed the paragraphs about the historic building, how it had been a hotel for a hundred years, had fallen into disrepair and been abandoned. Her interest sharpened when she read that Sergei had bought and renovated it, provided jobs for a thousand people, and was committed to the highest service possible.
He really was an incredible man. And she was going to have dinner with him. Her heart began to thump, her tummy turning somersaults. She was going to have dinner with Sergei Kholodov. It wasnt a date, of course. She understood that. A man like Sergei Kholodov couldnt actually be interested in her could he?
Was she ridiculous to wonder even for a moment that he might? An icy thrill ran like cold fire through her veins at the thought. Then she realised with a flutter of something between dismay and desolation that she had nothing to wear.
Hannah straightened. She could hardly hope to impress someone of Sergei Kholodovs wealth and experience. And it was only dinner after all.
By seven-thirty Hannah was dressed and ready. She gazed at herself in the mirror, acknowledging that the simple black dress in soft jersey was flattering but also plain, and three months in a rucksack hadnt done it any favours. Fortunately the material had mostly smoothed out, and she liked the simple style, ending in a swirl around her calves. Her only jewellery was a single string of pearls her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday. She finished the outfit with low black pumps, a slick of lip gloss, and then she was done.
Now she just had to wait half an hour. She definitely didnt want to appear overeager, especially since he knew that word. Her lips twitched at the memory. She must have seemed terribly patronising, especially considering how excellent his English was.
She flicked through a few of the television channels, trying to settle her still flip-flopping stomach, until five minutes to eight when she made her way back down to the sumptuous lobby. Not overeager, just punctual.
The restaurant was understated, elegant, and buzzing with people. Hannah stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking around for Sergei, for no more than a few seconds before she felt a sure touch at her elbow.
Miss Pearl? Mr Kholodov is waiting for you.
Hannah turned to see Grigori. He smiled at her, shyly, and Hannah thought how different he was from Sergei. She wondered if his boss scared him with his scowls and sneers, or if he was used to it. Or did Sergei Kholodov just scowl at her?
Miss Pearl? he prompted, and Hannah realised shed just been standing there, staring into space. And Sergei was waiting. Somehow she didnt think he liked to wait. She swallowed, nodding, and followed Grigori through the dining room to a discreet alcove in the back, part of the main dining room and yet also quite private. No one could see into this secluded and intimate corner. A table with an L-shaped banquette in plush crimson velvet was laid with crystal, flickering with candlelight. Sergei slid out of the booth as she approached, and now stood in front of her, his gaze sweeping over her in a brief but thorough assessment.
Her faceher whole bodyheated under his gaze. She didnt think she was imagining a look like that. And yet the thought that he might actually find her attractive was incredible, impossible. Exciting.
He looked, she thought as the thud of her heart seemed to roar in her ears, amazing. Hed exchanged the leather trench coat and jeans for a well-cut silk suit in a charcoal grey, and it did even better things for his shoulders, if that were possible. She couldnt keep herself from noticing the strong lines of his body: his jaw, his shoulder, his thigh. The man was a painting, or perhaps a sculpture.
Good evening, he said, and Hannah very nearly bobbed a curtsey back. She felt so out of her element, and no more so than when Sergei slowly reached out a hand, which she took instinctively, and with a sensual smile led her to the table.
Sergei saw Hannahs eyes widen and flare and felt a shaft of desire stab him as she bit her lip, taking its rosy fullness between her teeth, her wide-eyed gaze taking in the obvious intimacy of their surroundings. Just looking at her he felt desire flood through his veins, fire his resolve. He wanted her, and that made things simple. Lust was easy, desire safe. And as her gaze finally rested on him, open and guileless, he thought she desired him back. A faint flush tinged her cheeks and she dropped her hand from where shed been toying with her hair.
Sergei let his gaze sweep over her once more. Her hair, last scraped back into a ponytail, now fell almost to her waist in a rippling chestnut waterfall, the candlelight picking out strands of amber and gold. Her dress was cheap and boring but it didnt matter. The fabric draped lovingly over the gentle curves of her breasts and hips; they were slight and she was almost too thin, yet Sergei was still tempted. Still speechless.
She wasnt classically beautiful, there was something too open and honest about her for that; she possessed no haughty awareness or distance. Yet she still looked breathtaking, and she was the only woman Sergei had ever met who caused him to break his rules, to want more, more than he ever let himself want.
He pushed the thoughtthe wantaside. This was lust, pure and simple. That was all. Hed make sure of that.
I hope you found everything in your room comfortable, he said.
Comfortable? Are you kidding me? It was amazing. The tub aloneI stayed in there for an hour. She held out her hands for his inspection. My fingers are still wrinkled like prunes.
Im glad you enjoyed all the rooms amenities, he said smoothly, and she dropped her hands, laughing a little.
Definitely. Thank you. This is all so like something out of a fairy tale. Really. Her eyes held a playful, teasing light. Are you my fairy godmother?
No, Sergei said, Just someone assuaging his own guilty conscience.
You hardly need to feel guilty, she said as she slid into the booth. He caught a whiff of her honeyed scent: snowdrops, the signature scent of the complementary toiletries found in every room in his hotel. The scent, hed always thought, of sweetness and courage.
Would you like a glass of wine? he asked, reaching for the bottle of red already open.
Oh well. Okay. She smiled, trying to be sophisticated, clearly nervous. Thank you.
She was, Sergei thought, incredibly open. Those eyes, that face, every word she said she hid nothing. Having hidden every emotion since he could remember, he was both disturbed and moved by the thought.
He handed her the glass and poured one for himself. To unexpected moments, he said, raising his glass, and after a seconds hesitation she self-consciously clinked her glass with his own.
Ive certainly had a few of those today, she said after shed taken a tiny sip of wine.
So tell me about this trip of yours, Sergei said as he sat next to her. This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Well She paused, frowning faintly. My parents died. They were elderly, and it wasnt unexpected, but it was all kind of intense, and I decided afterwards that this was an opportunity to take some time out for myself. She gave him a wry smile. Even if I didnt have any savings.
Im sorry about your parents, he said quietly. Her admission had given him a flicker of surprised sympathy. She was an orphan, of a sort, just as he was. Savings aside, he continued, you obviously had enough money to fund the trip at least.
Just, Hannah agreed. But it was tight. I had to close the shop, of course, and scrimp quite a bit She stopped suddenly, shaking her head ruefully. But you dont want to hear about that. Very boring stuff, especially to a millionaire like you.
Billionaire, actually, but Sergei wasnt about to correct her. He was curious about this shop of hers, and her whole life, and the way she stared at him as if she trusted him, as if she trusted everyone. Hadnt life taught her anything? It made him want to destroy her delusions and wrap her in cotton wool all at the same time.
Desirable, he reminded himself. That was it. Simple. Easy.
You mentioned a shop, he said. He shifted in his seat and his thigh nudged hers. He saw her eyes widen and she bit the lush fullness of her lip once more.
Y-yes, a shop, she said, stammering slightly, and he knew that brief little nudge had affected her. And if that affected herwhat would she be like in his arms? In his bed?
Guilt pricked him momentarily, sharp and pointed. Should he really be thinking like this? She had innocence stamped all over her. His lovers were always experienced and even jaded like him, women who understood his rules. Who never tried to get close.
Because if they did if they ever knew
Sergei pushed the needling sense of guilt away, hardened his heart. And pictured himself slipping that dress from her shoulders, pressing his lips to the pulse fluttering quite wildly at her throat. She wanted him. He wanted her.
Simple.
It was foolish to feel so aware, Hannah told herself. So alive. They were just talking. Yet still she was acutely, achingly conscious of Sergeis thigh just inches from hers, the strength and heat of him right across the table, the candlelight throwing the harsh planes of his face into half-shadow.
A shop, she repeated, knowing she must sound as brainless as hed thought her this morning. My parents started it before I was born, and I took it over when they died.
What kind of shop?
Crafts. Mainly knitting supplies, yarn and so forth, but also embroidery and sewing things. Whatever weIthink will sell. Even six months after her mothers death, it was still strangeand sadto think the shop was hers. Only hers.
And you had to close the shop? You couldnt have anyone running it while you were away?
I cant really afford it, she said. Its a small town and we dont get a lot of business except during tourist season. And even then just drive-throughs.
Where is this small town of yours?
Hadley Springs, about four hours north of New York City.
It must be beautiful.
It is. She loved the rugged beauty of the Adirondacks, the impenetrable pine forests, yet living in a small town as a twenty-something could get a bit lonely, something she thought Sergei surmised from the shrewd compassion in his narrowed eyes.
You have not wanted to move?
No, nev Hannah stopped suddenly, for she couldnt actually say she hadnt wanted it; it had simply never been an option. Her parents had needed her too much, the shop needed to be run, and she couldnt imagine abandoning it all now. The shop had been everything to them, and she needed to make a go of it, for the sake of their memory at least. She knew it was what her parents would have wanted, even expected. And yet
I dont even know where I would go, she said after a moment, trying to shrug the questionand the sudden doubts it had made her haveaway.
Sergeis smile glinted in the candlelight. Possibility can be a frightening thing.
I suppose, she said slowly, thinking that it never had been before. She hadnt let herself think about possibilities, yet somehow sitting in this candlelit room with this breathtakingly attractive man gazing at her so steadily made everythingand anythingseem more possible.
Sergei cocked his head. You are thinking about selling this shop, he said softly.
No Shed been thinking about him, but she couldnt deny that his pointed little questions had opened up something inside her, something she wasnt quite ready to consider. It was my parents dream, she told him. Their baby.
Werent you their baby?
She shook her head, wondering why he insisted on seeing everything in such a cynical light. You know what I mean. They poured their life savings into the shop, all their energy. My father had a stroke while stacking boxes in the stock room. She swallowed. It was everything to them.
So it was their dream, Sergei said quietly. But was it yours? You cant make someone want the same things you do. He sounded as if he spoke from experience. You need to have your own dream.
Whats your dream, then?
Success, he answered shortly. Whats yours?
The question felt like a challenge, one Hannah didnt want to answer. Sergei gazed at her, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, the sharp angular planes of his face bathed in warm light. His was a harsh, stark beauty, yet she could not deny the whole of his features, cold and assessing as they were, worked together to make him a truly striking man. Hannah swallowed, wanting to say something light, something that would smooth over the sudden jagged sense of uncertainty Sergei had ripped open inside her. Perhaps he understood this, for he gave her a small smile and said, Perhaps this trip has been your dream.
Yes, she said firmly. It was. And it was over now. Tomorrow reality would return. In a day or two she would open the door to the shop, dusty and unused, and deal with the bills and the piles of uncatalogued merchandise and the creeping realisation that her parents baby made very little money indeed. She had ideas, she had plans to make the shop work, and they were her plans. The shop was hers. She just didnt know if the dream was. Hannah pushed the thought away, and the resentment she couldnt help but feel that Sergei had opened up these uncertainties inside her. So your dream is success, she said brightly, determined to move the focus of the conversation away from herself. Success in what?
Everything.
Thats quite a dream. She felt a bit shaken by his blatant arrogance, as well as the bone-deep certainty she felt in herself that such a dream was most assuredly in the reach of a man like Sergei Kholodov. Well, judging by this hotel youre on your way to achieving it, she said as a waiter stepped silently into the alcove and began to serve them their starters. Sergei glanced at the young man who laid their plates on the table with a solemn concentration.
Spasiba, Andrei.
The waiter gave his boss a quick, grateful smile and then withdrew with a little bow. Hannah felt a flicker of curiosity. Did Sergei know all his staff by name? The brochure in her room had said he employed a thousand people here. So how did you build this empire of yours? she asked. Is it a family business?
He stilled, staring at her for a moment, the only movement the slow rotation of his wine glass between his fingers. No, he said finally. Not family.
You made it on your own? She reached for her fork and took a bite of wafer-thin beef carpaccio.
Yes, Sergei said flatly. I learned early that is the only way youll ever succeed. Dont depend on anyone. Dont trust anyone, either. His voice had hardened, and his already harsh face suddenly seemed very cold.
You must have someone you can trust, she said after a moment. Her own life was a little lonely, but not as bad as that.
No, Sergei said flatly. No one.
No one who works for you? She thought of Grigori, or even of the waiter Andrei. Both men had seemed to respect Sergei.
He lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. I am their employer. It is a different kind of relationship.
A friend, then? He didnt answer. Hannah shook her head slowly. I find that very sad.
Do you? He sounded amused. I find it convenient.
Then thats even sadder.
Sergei leaned forward, his eyes glittering like shards of ice or diamonds. Both cold and hard. At some point in your life, Hannah, youll find out that people disappoint you. Deceive you. I find its better to accept it and move on than let yourself continually be let down.
And I, Hannah returned robustly, find it better to believe in people and live in hope than become as jaded and cynical as you obviously are.
He laughed, the sound rich and deep, and leaned back in his chair. Well, there we are, he said. His gaze roved over her in obvious masculine appreciation. Two very different people, he murmured.
Yes, Hannah agreed. Her knees suddenly felt watery, her whole body shaky. The tension over their disagreement had been replaced by something else, something just as tense. And tempting.
She didnt think she was imagining the way Sergei was looking at her, his gaze roving over her so slowly, so seductively. She certainly wasnt imagining the answering, quivering need she felt in herself, every nerve leaping to life, every sense singing to awareness. He might be cynical, but he was also sexy. Incredibly so, and her body responded to him on the most basicand thrillinglevel.
She swallowed, tried to find another topic of conversation, anything to diffuse the sudden tension that had tautened the very air between them. What about your parents? she said. You must have depended on them, at least when you were a child.
Sergeis eyes narrowed as his gaze snapped back to her face, his expression colder than ever. Clearly shed picked the wrong topic. No, he said. Im an orphan, like you are. No family to run your little shop, and no family to run my business.
And no family to depend on. When did your parents die? she asked quietly.
A long time ago.
He couldnt be much more than thirty-five, she guessed. When you were a child?
His eyes narrowed, lips thinning into a hard line. I dont know, actually. No one bothered to tell me. I was raised by my grandmother. Hannah stared at him in surprise, and Sergei leaned forward. All these questions, he mocked softly. Youre so very curious, arent you? Dont worry, Hannah. I survived.
Life is about more than survival. Clearly he didnt like personal questions. In any case, Im sorry about your parents. It must have been hard to lose them, whatever age you were. Sergei lifted one shoulder in something like an accepting shrug, his expression completely closed.
Andrei came and cleared their plates, replacing them with the next course of pelmeni, a kind of Russian ravioli with minced lamb filling encased in paper-thin dough. Hannah took a bite and her eyes widened in appreciation; this was no peasant food.
Sergei noted her reaction with a faint smile, the tension that had tautened between them thankfully dissipating. You like it? Anatoli, the chef here, is world-famous. His signature is haute cuisine, Russian style.
Its delicious, Hannah said, and took another bite. She smiled, deciding to keep the mood light. So you dont want to talk about your business, she said, or at least anything personal.
Sergei arched his eyebrows. I dont remember saying that.
Maybe not in so many words, Hannah allowed, but I think it was pretty clear, dont you?
He stared at her, nonplussed, and Hannah gazed evenly back. She wasnt going to let him intimidate her, not when she knew underneath all that arrogant bluster there was a kind heart. Or at least a somewhat kind heart. Hed looked out for her, hadnt he, in his own brusque and bossy way? Shed seen compassion in his eyes. And she trusted him, instinctively, implicitly, no matter how coldly arrogant he could seem. Underneath the bluster there was something real and good, and she felt bone-deep she was right to trust that.
His mouth twitched in something that just hinted at a smile and he set his wine glass back down on the table. Youre very candid, arent you?
If youre saying Im honest, then yes. But not nosy, she added, daring to tease just a little. If I were nosy, Id ask you why you dont want to talk about personal things.
His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring slightly even as he smiled and picked up his wine glass once more. Good thing youre not nosy, then.
Hannah watched him, curiosity sharpening inside her. Sergei Kholodov was, she decided, a man with secrets. Ones he had no intention of telling her. Yet she was intrigued and a little bit intimidated and attracted. Definitely attracted. The desire she felt was heady and new, for men like Sergei Kholodovor even men under the age of fiftygenerally didnt come to Hadley Springs all that often, much less ask her out on dates. And this was a date wasnt it?
Good thing, she finally agreed, and Sergeis mouth curved into a smile that suddenly seemed to Hannah both predatory and possessive.
In any case, he said, his tone turning lazy and even sensual, his gaze heavy-lidded, Id much rather talk about you.
CHAPTER THREE
ME? HANNAH stared at him, registering that lazy tone, that sensual smile. A thrill raced through her. I dont know why, she told him. Weve already talked about me. And Im very boring.
Sergeis smile deepened, his gaze sweeping slowlyso slowlyover her. That remains to be seen.
She let out a little laugh. Trust me.
Let me be the judge of that.
Hannah shrugged and gave up the argument. Hed learn soon enough how mundane her life seemed, especially to a millionaire like him. Okay. She spread her hands, gave him a playfully challenging smile. Shoot.
Tell me more about this shop, Sergei said and Hannah blinked. What had she been expecting, that he would demand to know her most intimate secrets, or lack of them? Well, sort of.
I told you about it already, she said. Theres not much more to tell. He said nothing, merely watched her, and so Hannah elaborated, Its a little shop. Just a little shop.
Knitting, you said?
Yes.
You like to knit?
Hannah stared at him, swallowed. It was a logical question, an innocuous question, and yet it felt both loaded and knowing. Something about the way Sergei gazed at her with that shrewd assessment made Hannah feel as if hed stripped away her secrets and seen right into her soul.
Which was absurd, because she didnt have any secrets. Not really, she said, smiling. My mother taught me when I was little, but I never got past purling. She gave up on me eventually, much to my relief.
I see. And in those two words Hannah heard how much he saw, or at least thought he saw. He really did have a dark view of the world, she decided, reading the worst into everything. He was starting to make her do that a little bit too, and she didnt like it.
I like the business side of it, she said, even though that wasnt quite true. She didnt mind it would be more accurate.
And so you continue with this shop alone.
Why shouldnt I? He was still watching her, his eyes narrowed, lips parted. Everything about him seemed sharp and hard except for those lips. They were soft, mobile, warm-looking. She was really quite fascinated with them. Hannah jerked her gaze upwards. I cant imagine doing anything else, she said simply. And I have lots of plans to improve it.
It needs improving?
Doesnt everything? In any case, as I said before, the shop was everything to my mom and dad. I cant just let that go.
But to you?
Its very important to me, she said firmly, but she felt, for the first time, as if she was lying. The realisation jolted her, like when you thought there was one more step on a staircase.
Tell me about this trip of yours, Sergei said. Have you been to many places?
A few. She smiled, glad not to think about the shop any more. I bought a rail pass and have been working my way through Europe. Moscow was the last stop.
Which would account for the flight you missed about two hours ago.
She swallowed, reality landing with an unwelcome thud. Right.
With my help, I dont think it should be difficult to reschedule your flight tomorrow.
Relief mingled with reality. Even so, as glad as she would be to have her passport sorted, she didnt want this night to end. Yet if she believed Sergeiwhich she didshed be back in Hadley Springs in twenty-four hours. You can pull some serious strings, I guess, Hannah said. It was hard to imagine that kind of power.
Sergei shrugged one shoulder, the movement one of careless and understated authority. In Russia it is all about who you know.
Well, I obviously didnt know the right people. The lady at the embassy wasnt interested in my sob story at all. Hannah smiled wryly before quickly adding, She was helpful and nice, of course
Of course, Sergei agreed, his amused tone suggesting he thought otherwise. He leaned forward, eyes glinting. Or maybe she was just a miserable cow who never spares a thought for the hapless traveller who comes to her window.
Hannah shook her head slowly. Do you think the worst of everyone?
I havent thought the worst of you, Sergei pointed out blandly.
Curious, she raised her eyebrows. And just what would the worst about me be?
That you planned to be pickpocketed in my presence so Id help you
Hannah nearly choked on the wine shed been sipping. What?
And then finagle and flirt your way into my good graces, and most likely my bed.
Now Hannah really did choke. She doubled over, coughing and sputtering, while Sergei solicitously poured her more water. She straightened, wiping her streaming eyes, and stared at him in disbelief. Do women really do that kind of thing? To you?
Another one-shoulder shrug. On occasion.
She shook her head, incredulous and reeling a little bit from the casual mention of his bed. And her in it. And theyre not scared off by your incredibly surly attitude?
Now he grinned, properly, not a lazy smile that Hannah suspected was meant to singe her senses. This was a smile of genuine humour, and she was glad. It made her grin right back. I wish they were, he said.
Im sure, she replied tartly. It must be so very tedious to fight all these women off. How do you make it down the street?
With difficulty.
Poor you.
Still smiling, he poured her more wine. Wine she shouldnt drink, because she was already feeling rather delightfully light-headed. In any case, we were talking about this trip of yours. Why did you want to travel so much?
Because I never had before, Hannah said simply. Ive spent my entire life in upstate New York
What about university?
I went to the state university, in Albany, just an hour away.
What did you study?
Literature. Poetry, mainly. Not very practical. My parents wanted me to take a degree in business. She swallowed, remembering how theyd wrung their hands and shaken their heads. Literature wont get you anywhere, Hannah. It wont help with the shop.
The shop. Always the shop. The stirring of resentment surprised her. Why had she never thought this way before? Because shed never met someone like Sergei before, asking his questions, making her doubt. And thrilling her to her very core.
But you kept with literature? Sergei asked, and Hannah jerked her unfocused gaze back to Sergeis knowing one.
I left. She shrugged, dismissing what had been a devastating decision with a simple twist of her shoulders. It was a long time ago now, and shed never regretted it. Not really.
Why?
She looked up, saw that telling shrewd compassion in his narrowed gaze, and wondered how he was able to guess so much. Know so much. My father had a stroke when I was twenty. It was too difficult for my mother to cope with him and the shop, so I came home and helped out. I intended to return to school when things got settled, but somehow
They never did, Sergei finished softly, and Hannah knew he understood.
She lifted her shoulders in another accepting shrug. No point feeling sad about something that had happened years ago, something that had been her choice. It happens.
It must have been hard to leave university.
It was, Hannah admitted. But I promised myself Id go back, and I will one day.
To study business or literature?
Literature, Hannah said firmly, a little surprised by how much she meant it.
Sergeis mouth curved into a smile. So you do have your own dream after all.
Hannah stared at him. I guess I do, she said after a moment. Although Im not sure what Id actually do with that kind of degree. I took an evening course back home, on Emily Dickinson, an American poet. But She shrugged, shook her head. Its not like Im going to become a poet or something.
Sergeis smile deepened. And here I thought you were an optimist.
She let out a little laugh. Yes, I am. So who knows, maybe Ill start spouting sonnets.
He pretended to shudder. Please dont.
Hannah laughed aloud, emboldened by that little glimpse of humour. She propped her elbows on the table and hefted her wine glass aloft. I bring an unaccustomed wine, she quoted, To lips long parching, next to mine, And summon them to drink.
The words fell into the stillness, created ripples in the silence like wind on the surface of a pond. The intimacy of the verse seemed to reverberate between them as Sergeis heavy-lidded gaze rested thoughtfully on her and he slowly reached for his wine glass. Emily Dickinson? he surmised softly, and Hannah nodded, too affected by the lazy, languorous look in his eyes to speak. Obviously shed had too much wine if shed started quoting poetry. Slowly, his gaze still heavy on her, Sergei raised his glass and drank. Unableand unwillingto look away, Hannah drank too.
It wasnt a toast, it wasnt anything, and yet Hannah felt as if something inexplicably important had just passed between them, as if theyd both silently agreed yet to what?
How old are you now? Sergei asked abruptly, breaking the moment, and Hannah set her wine glass down with a little clatter.
Twenty-six. I know its been a while since college but I will go back, she told him with a sudden, unexpected fierceness. When I have the money
Saved? Sergei slotted in and she gave a little laugh.
I know what youre thinking. I shouldnt have blown all my money on this trip if I really wanted to go back to college. And that was probably true, but shed needed this trip. After her mother had died and her closest friend Ashley had moved to California, Hannah had felt more alone than ever. She couldnt have faced continuing on, alone in the shop, struggling to make ends, if not meet, then at least see each other. Shed needed to get away, to experience things. Still, she knew it had been impulsive, imprudent, maybe even just plain stupid. Something a man like Sergei Kholodov never would have done.
You probably shouldnt have, Sergei agreed dryly. But sometimes a little impulsive action can be a good thing.
Like now? For surely having dinner alone with this man was the most impulsive and maybe even imprudent thing shed ever done. Yet Hannah knew she wouldnt trade this evening for anything. She was having too much fun.
She gave him an impish look from under her lashes. Im surprised to hear you say that, she told him, considering how you chewed me out this morning for leaving my passport in my pocket.
.
.
, (https://www.litres.ru/kate-hewitt/kholodov-s-last-mistress/) .
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- Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература, Современные любовные романы
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 190 стр. 1 иллюстрация
- ISBN: 9781408926253
- Дата выхода книги: 01 января 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
An innocent in MoscowWhen Sergei Kholodov rescued American tourist Hannah Pearl, her wide-eyed approach to the world shocked the man whose life had left him bitterly cynical. Hating how powerfully she affected him, Sergei made a cold-hearted decision to obliterate his dark emotions…He would lose himself in sinful pleasure before pushing her away and destroying her dreams. One year later, Sergei returns. Hannah has been seared on his memory – perhaps one more night will allow him to forget her once and for all? Or will he realise her innocence is a Pearl beyond price and that he’ll never have enough…?
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