Andrey stared at his Executive Assistant as if he’d never seen her before. There was something about the way she tilted that perfect, pretty oval of her face, the way her usually calm gray eyes sparkled with the force of her temper… And something about that mouth of hers.
He couldn’t seem to look away from it. Unbidden, a memory teased through his head, of her hand on his cheek, her gray eyes warm and something like affectionate, her lips… but no. There was no need to revisit that insanity. He’d worked much too hard to strike it from his consciousness. It was one regrettable evening in five smooth, issue-free years. Why think of it at all?
“I would rather draw my last breath here and now,” she said again as if she was under the misapprehension that he had not heard her the first time.
“That can always be arranged, Miss Bryant,” Andrey said, searching that face he knew so well and yet, apparently, so little.
He was looking for some clue as to what had brought this on. Here, now, today.
“Have you forgotten? I am a very formidable man. I can do whatever I set my mind to do. And I have the means to do it.”
“Are we at this point? Well, if you are going to make threats, Mr. Romanoff,” Addison replied in that crisp way of hers, “at least pay me the compliment of making them credible. You are many things, but you are not a thug. Never was one.”
For the first time in longer than he could remember, since, perhaps, he had been the fatherless child whose mother, all the village had known too well, had been so disgraced that she had taken to the convent after his birth rather than face the wages of her sin in its ever-growing flesh, Andrey Romanoff was at a loss.
It might have amused him that it was his Executive Assistant who had wrought this level of incapacity in him, his glorified little ‘Girl-Friday’, for God’s sake, when nothing else had managed it.
Not another multimillion-pound deal, not one more scandalous affair reported breathlessly and inaccurately in the tabloids, not one of his new and, dare he say it, visionary business enterprises. Nothing got beneath his skin. Nothing threw him off balance. Only this little, feisty woman. As she had once before. It was funny. It was…
Andrey was certain he would laugh about it at some point, and at great length, but first, he needed to solve this little crisis and do it fast. She couldn’t go away from his company… He needed her too much.
He needed her back in line where she belonged, back securely in the role he preferred her to play, and Andrey ignored the small whisper inside him that suggested that there would be no repairing this.
That she would never again be as comfortably invisible as she’d been before, that it was too late, that he’d been operating on borrowed time since the incident in Cadiz three years ago and this was only the delayed fallout…
“So, if you are done with the threats, Mr. Romanoff, I’ll be on my way,” Addison told him. “I got other things to do with my time.”
She met his gaze as if he were a naughty child in the midst of a tiresome strop, and enunciating each word as if she suspected Andrey was too busy tantruming to hear her otherwise.
“You will have to come to terms with my decision and if you still feel it necessary to file suit against me, then, by all means, go ahead with it. I booked a ticket to Bora Bora this morning. I’m sorted.”
And then, finally, his brain started working again. It was one thing for her to take herself off to wherever she lived in London, or even off on a week’s holiday to, say, Ibiza, as he’d suggested.
But French Polynesia… a world away? Unacceptable! Because he could not let her go… He already said no. And he wanted to examine that as little as he had the last time he’d discovered that she wanted to leave him.
Three years ago, only a week after that night in Cadiz he’d seen, and still saw, no point in dredging forth. It wasn’t personal, of course, then or now. Addison Bryant was an asset. In many ways, the most valuable asset he had.
She knew too much about him. Everything, in fact… From his inseam to his favorite breakfast to his preferred concierge service in all the major cities around the globe, to say nothing of the ins and outs of the way he handled his business affairs.
Andrey couldn’t imagine how long it would take to train up her replacement, and he had no intention of finding out. He would do as he always did… whatever was necessary to protect his assets. Whatever it took.
“I apologize for my behavior, Miss Bryant,” Andrey said then, almost formally.
He shifted his stance and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, rocking back on his heels in a manner he knew was the very opposite of aggressive.
“I must admit that you took me by surprise.”
Her gray eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Andrey wished that he had taken the time to learn how to read her as thoroughly as he knew she could read him. It put him at a disadvantage, another unfamiliar sensation.
“Of course, I will not sue you… or hurt you in any way,” he continued, forcing himself to keep an even, civil tone, and the rest of himself in check. “I was simply reacting badly, as anyone would. You are the best Executive Assistant I’ve ever had in… years. Perhaps the best in all of London. I am quite sure you know this.”
“Well… thank you for that… I guess,” Addison added, dropping her gaze, which he found unaccountably fascinating.
She said something almost under her breath then, something that sounded very much like ‘that’s nothing to be proud of’. Andrey wanted to pursue that but didn’t. He had every intention of cracking her wide open and figuring out every last one of her mysteries until he was sure that none remained, that she could never take him by surprise again…
But not now. Not here. Not until he’d dealt with this situation the only way he knew how. Which was to dominate it and contain it and make it his, by whatever means necessary.
“As you must be aware, however,” he continued, “there will be a great number of papers to sign before you can leave the company, Miss Bryant. Confidentiality agreements being the least of it.”
He checked the watch on his wrist with a quick snap of his arm.
“It’s still early. We can leave immediately.”
“I’m sorry… Did you just say ‘leave’?” she demanded, openly frowning now.
Andrey slowly narrowed his eyes. It occurred to him that he’d never seen her do that before. Addison was always so very serene, with only the odd flash in her eyes to hint at what went on in her head.
He’d never wanted to know. But this was a full frown, eyebrows drawn and that mouth of hers tight, and Andrey was riveted. Why could he not tear his attention away from her mouth?
The lines he’d never seen before made the smooth expanse of her forehead more interesting somehow… It made him much too close to uncomfortable. As if she was a real person instead of merely his most prized possession, exhibiting brand-new traits. Worse yet… As if she was a… woman.
But he didn’t want to think about that. He certainly didn’t want to remember the only other time he’d seen her as anything more than his shadow... capable to pit every single piece of his life in the right place.
No… He didn’t want this woman in his bed. Of course, he didn’t. She was too clever, too good at what she did. He wanted her at his beck and call, at his side, where she belonged.
“Miss Bryant, my entire legal team is in Zurich,” Andrey reminded her gently. “Surely you have not forgotten that already in your haste to leave? We need to solve everything before your trip to… where did you say? Ah, yes… Bora Bora…”
Andrey watched her stiffen, and thought she would balk at the idea of a quick trip to Switzerland, but instead, she swallowed hard. Quite visibly. And then squared her shoulders as if a not-quite-two-hour trip on the private jet was akin to a trial by fire. One that she was reluctantly willing to suffer through if it would rid her of him.
“Fine by me, Mr. Romanoff,” Addison replied, with an impatient sort of sigh that he did not care for in the least. “If you want me to sign something, anything, I’ll sign it. Even in bloody Zurich, if you insist. I want this over with. I want to be free from everything I’ve been a part of during these five years.”
“Very well Miss Bryant. Let’s go,” Andrey said and smiled because he had her.
By the time the helicopter touched down on the helipad on the foredeck of the gently moving luxury yacht, Addison had worked herself into what she could only call a state. She climbed out of the sleek little machine only when she realized she had no other choice, that the pilot was shutting it down and preparing to stay on board the great yacht himself. Even if she wasn’t glad to be there, Addison didn’t wish to spend who knew how long sitting in a helicopter simply to prove a point. She was quite certain that Andrey would leave her there. On some level, Addison was bitterly aware she really should have expected he’d pull a stunt like this… a brazen abduction. Simply because he could. So, in spite of the fact that she wanted to put a thousand worlds between them, she found herself f
She found him in one of the yacht’s many salons, a sleek celebration of marble and glass down an ostentatious spiral stair that was as gloriously luxe as everything else on this floating castle he’d won in a late-night card game from an old Russian oligarch.‘It was easy to take,’ he’d said with a small shrug when she’d asked why he’d wanted another yacht to add to his collection. ‘So, I took it.’ Andrey sat now in the sunken seating area with one of his many… anonymous companions melting all over him, all plumped-up breasts and sheaves of wheat-blond hair cascading here and there. He had discarded his jacket somewhere and now looked deliciously rumpled, white shirt open at the collar and his olive skin seeming to gleam. T
He could smell the faintest hint of something sweet… soap or perfume, he couldn’t tell. But desire curled through him, kicking up flames. He remembered burying his face in her neck, and the need to do it again, now, howled through him, shocking in its intensity. And Andrey didn’t know if he admired her or wanted to throttle her when she didn’t move so much as an inch. When she showed no regard at all for her own safety. When, instead, Addison all but bristled in further defiance. Andrey had the strangest feeling - he wouldn’t call it a premonition - that this woman might very well be the death of him. He shook it off, annoyed at himself and the kind of superstitious silliness he thought he’d left behind in his unhappy childhood.“Why are you so concerned wit
She had actually thrown herself off the side of the damned boat. Andrey stood at the rail and scowled down at her as she surfaced in the water below and started swimming for the far-off shore, fighting to keep his temper under control. Fighting to shove all of that need and lust back where it belonged, shut down and locked away in the deepest recesses of his memory. How had this happened? Again? And yet, he was all too aware there was no one to blame but himself. Which only made things worse.“Is that Addie?” The voice that came from slightly behind him was shocked.“‘Addie’?” Andrey echoed icily. He didn’t want to know she had a casual nickname. He didn’t want to think of her
The engine roared to life, drowning out whatever she might have said next. Addison stopped swimming then and trod water, watching in consternation and no little annoyance as the small craft looped around her, leaving her to bob helplessly in a converging circle of its wake. Addison got a slap of seawater in the face and had to scrub at her eyes to clear them. When she opened them again, the engine had gone quiet once more and the boat was much too close. Again! Which in turn meant that he was much too close. How could she be in the middle of the sea and still feel so trapped? So hemmed in?“You look like a raccoon, Miss Bryant,” he said in his blunt, rude way. As if he was personally offended by it.“Oh,” she
There was a brief, intense sort of moment, and then Andrey leaned over, slid his hands beneath her arms, and hoisted her up and out of the water as if she weighed no more than a child. Water sluiced from her wet clothes as Addison’s feet came down against the slippery bottom of the small boat, and she was suddenly aware of too many things. The sodden fabric of her skirt, ten times heavier than it should have been, wrapped much too tightly around her hips and thighs. The slick wetness of her blouse as it flattened against her skin in the sea breeze. The heavy tangle of her wet hair, tumbling this way and that in a disastrous mess. All of which made her feel much too cold, and, oddly, something very much like vulnerable. But then she looked up, and the air seemed to empty out of her lungs. And she didn&
Instead, Addison had let her hair dry naturally as she’d taken her time dressing, and now it hung in dark waves down her back. She’d found a pair of white denim jeans in one closet, much snugger than she liked, which was only to be expected given the gazelle-like proportions of most of his usual female guests, and a lovely palazzo top in a vibrant blue-and-white pattern in another, which was loose and flowy and balanced out the jeans. She had tossed on a slate-gray wrap to guard against the sea air now that evening was upon them and the temperature had dropped and had left her feet and her face entirely bare. Miss Bryant disappeared leaving her place to Addison. She looked like… herself. At last. Yet Andrey stared at her as if she were a ghost.“Is this another version of thr
He should’ve been happy or at the very least, satisfied. Andrey lounged back against his chair and gazed around the white linen-draped table that stretched the length of the formal dining room in the Presidential Suite of the ‘Principe di Savoia’ Hotel in Milan, surveying the small dinner he’d had Addison throw here in one of Europe’s most prestigious spaces. The rooms of the vast suite gave the impression of belonging to royalty perhaps, so stunning were they, all high ceilings, carefully selected antiques, and the finest Italian craftsmanship on display at every turn. Wealth and elegance seemed to shimmer up from the very floors to dance in the air around them. The investors were duly impressed, as expected, and that would no doubt, be reflected in the size of their