The Man She Shouldn't Crave

Relief flooded her.

‘You’re now included in that security until you fly out at the beginning of next week,’ he continued.

He was already talking about a date for her departure.

She knew she would be going—she’d worked too long and hard building up her business to be away any longer—but right now, with everything so uncertain between them, it felt pretty lousy to be reminded of it. He’d said it himself. He was here and she was—there.

What she had been hoping up until this instant was that he would say, Da, baby, I can do this. I’ve got a jet. I can fly in weekends.

But somehow she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

‘I meet beautiful women all the time. Many of them give me their contact details. You just did it in an unusual way.’

‘Rose, do you understand? When you’re not with me you need to be where I can keep an eye on you.’

She’d only been half listening, but those familiar words, combined with the certain knowledge that this had never been anything but a hook-up on his part, brought her up short.

‘An eye on me?’

He seemed to be grappling to express himself. ‘You’re from Texas, yes? The history of your country, your Wild West, this is very much the feel of my city at the moment.’

‘You mean Moscow is like Dodge?’ she said, a little lost. ‘Except Dodge City was in Kansas?’

‘Da.’ He sat back, running his gaze over her as if making an inventory of her dark hair, her eyes, her mouth, the slope of her shoulders right down to her lap.

He’s thinking about sex, Rose thought edgily, because she was no longer feeling particularly sexy right now. He’s weighing me up as if it’s worth his while.

‘Naturally there are laws, but there are a lot of people working outside of those laws.’

‘Shady types?’ she said dully.

‘Da, shady types.’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck, drawing attention to the strain of his bulging biceps under the close-weave fabric of his jacket.

Rose wrenched her gaze away. He didn’t belong to her any more. He wasn’t hers to desire.

He leaned towards her, as if sensing her withdrawal, his forearms coming down on the table. He reached for her hands. ‘You need to behave yourself whilst you’re with me, Rose. No more of these unexpected surprises, yes?’

He had lowered his voice to an intimate level, his hands closing around hers, his thumbs rubbing her wrists. The feeling was making her breathless and sad and angry all at once.

‘We don’t want any more photographs of you in the papers. Can you do that for me?’

Rose dragged her hands back, her expression one of utter dismay. She felt the same way she had in that restaurant the first night, when he had revealed so casually that his players had been warned not to contact her.

As if she were Timebomb Rose, who might go off at any moment.

She’d lived that persona for four years. Having her actions monitored, having to run her decisions by another person who inevitably overruled her.

The one thing she had learned from th

e whole experience was that she wouldn’t walk that road again, not for anybody. Not even for a gorgeous Russian who made her want things she couldn’t have.

She threw down her napkin and launched to her feet.

‘I’d like to go home now, please.’

And she didn’t mean his apartment.

He gave her a look that was angry and frustrated.