White Nights (White Nights 1)

Alex puts his plate on the tray and gets up to leave the tray on the floor before sitting down next to me.

Gently, he runs his knuckles down the side of my face. “Your ex sounds like someone who didn’t deserve you,” he says quietly, his accented voice sending pleasant shivers down my spine. “I’m glad you’re no longer with him.”

“I’m glad too,” I whisper, mesmerized by the warm glow in his eyes.

“Do you have plans for today?” He plays with my hair, gently massaging my scalp.

I blink, fighting the urge to beg for more as he pulls back his hand. “I have to work,” I say regretfully. “My shift starts at three.”

He glances at a clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost noon. Why don’t you stay here until it’s time to go?”

He wants to spend time with me? My pulse accelerates with excitement. “You don’t have to work or anything?”

He smiles. “I always have work to do. I could be working twenty-four-seven, and it still wouldn’t be enough to get everything done. If I can’t take a couple of hours to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, then what good is all this?” He waves a hand to indicate our luxurious surroundings.

“In that case, I’d love to stay. My scrubs are at the hospital, so I can just grab a cab from here.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he says, pushing to his feet. “Yuri will drive you anywhere you need to go.”

“Oh, no, I’ll be—”

He gives me a look that stops me mid-sentence. “Katyusha, I have a driver for a reason. Let him do his job.”

“All right.” I can’t help but grin. “Thank you.” I should protest more, but I like the idea of taking a fancy black car to work. Besides, it seems important to Alex.

He walks into a closet on the other side of the bedroom and emerges a minute later, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

“Come,” he says. “Let me show you around.”

I climb out of bed, trying to ignore the heated look in his eyes as I hunt for my clothes. My thong is a goner, but I pull on my jeans, bra, and sweater before turning to face him again.

“Ready,” I say, feeling as eager as a kid at an amusement park.

Smiling, he takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom.

8

To my surprise, Alex’s house isn’t as over the top as I imagined it might be. While all the furnishings look nice and expensive, the house itself could belong to any wealthy individual. Everything is tastefully decorated, with touches of modern art here and there.

“I like your place,” I tell Alex as he leads me downstairs. “It’s not exactly what I’d pictured, but I love the airy look and feel. Did you choose all this yourself or hire a decorator to do it?”

He smiles, obviously pleased by my praise. “I have a woman who works for me. She knows my taste, and she makes sure all my properties have what I need.”

I try to keep the incredulous tone from my voice. “You have a decorator who works for you full-time? Just how many properties do you have?”

“A lot,” he admits, giving me a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t really keep track of them all.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. You really do come from a different world, huh?”

“In more ways than you can imagine, Katyusha,” he says softly, his smile fading.

Before I can ask him what that means, we enter the kitchen, where a middle-aged woman with dark hair and brown eyes is stirring something in a pot.

“Marusya,” Alex says, “I’d like you to meet my guest, Kate. She’s the nurse I mentioned to you before, the one who took care of Igor.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman says in a heavy Russian accent, a welcoming smile lighting up her broad face.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I reply, smiling back. “Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious.”

“Good,” she says, nodding. “You too small. Should eat.”

I laugh. “Oh, you and my mom both.”

She shakes her head. “No, you need”—she draws a rounded shape in the air with her hands—“and should eat.”

Alex catches my eye and gives me a wink. To Marusya, he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I feed her. Maybe you can pack her something for lunch? She needs to go to work in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, no,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Katyusha,” Alex says firmly. “Please let Marusya prepare a few things for you. It’ll be good, I promise.”

I blink at him, caught off-guard by his unexpected solicitousness. Is he this nice to all the women he sleeps with? If so, how on earth is he still single? “If you’re sure. You really don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he says. “But I want to.”