Prince of Secrets

How had Demyan affected such change in her life in so little time? She wasn’t going to kid herself and try to say it was anything else, either.

Somehow Demyan had blown into her life and set it on a different path, one in which she didn’t have to be lonely or rejected anymore.

If she could let herself trust him and the love she felt for him, the rest of her life could and would be different, too.

She picked up the phone and called him.

“Missing me, little one?” he asked without a greeting.

“Yes.” There was a wealth of meaning in that one word, if he wanted to hear it.

“Yes as in yes, you miss me, or yes as in you will marry me?” he asked, sounding hopeful but cautious.

“Both.”

“I will be there in ten minutes.”

It was a half-hour drive from his penthouse, but she didn’t argue.

* * *

Demyan knocked on Chanel’s door with a minute to spare in the ten he’d promised her.

What he hadn’t told her when she called was that he was already in the area.

The door swung open, and Chanel’s eyes widened with disbelief. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was already on the road.” Had been for the better part of an hour, driving aimlessly, with each random turn taking him closer and closer to her apartment complex.

She frowned. “On your way here?”

“Not consciously.” He’d argued with himself about the wisdom of calling or stopping by after she’d told him she wanted the night to think.

So far, respecting her wishes had been winning his internal debate.

“Then what were you doing over here?”

He gently pushed past her, not interested in having this discussion, or any other, on the stoop outside her door. “I was out for a drive.”

“On this side of town?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t planning to come by.”

“No.” And that choice had clearly been the right one, though more difficult to follow through on than he wanted to admit.

“Do you go out for drives with no purpose often?” she asked, still sounding disbelieving.

“Not as such, no.” He went through to the kitchen, where he poured himself two fingers of Volyarussian vodka before drinking half of it in two swallows.

He’d brought the bottle with him one night, telling her that sometimes he enjoyed a shot to unwind. She’d told him he could keep it in the freezer if he liked.

He did, though he rarely drank from it.

“Are you okay, Demyan?” she asked from the open archway between her living room and kitchen. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I didn’t like the emptiness of my condo tonight.” He should have found the lack of company peaceful.

A respite.

He hadn’t. He’d become too accustomed to her presence in the evenings. Even when she only sat curled up with one of her never-ending scientific journals while he answered email, having her there was pleasant.

Had almost become necessary.

“I missed you, too.”

“You wanted your space. To think,” he reminded her, the planning side of his facile brain yelling at him that his reaction wasn’t doing his agenda any favors.

“It was fruitful. Or have you forgotten what I told you on the phone?”

He slammed the drink onto the counter, clear liquid splashing over the sides, the smell of vodka wafting up. “I have not forgotten.”

Her gray eyes flared at his action, but she didn’t look worried. “And you’re happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“You look it.” The words were sarcastic, but an understanding light glowed in her lovely eyes.

“You are a permanent fixture in my life. It is only natural I would come to rely on your companionship to a certain extent.” He tried to explain away his inability to remain in his empty apartment and work, as he’d planned to.

A small smile played around her mobile lips. “So, you considered me a permanent fixture before I agreed to marry you?”

“Yes.” He was not in the habit of losing what he went after.

“I see. I wasn’t nearly so confident, but I missed you like crazy when you were in Volyarus.”

“And yet you refused my proposal at first.”

“I didn’t. I told you I had to think.”

“That is not agreement.”

“Life is not that black-and-white.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” She moved right into his personal space. “I think you’re even more freaked out by how fast everything has gone between us than I am.”

“I am not.” It had all been part of his plan, everything except this inexplicable reaction to her request for time away from him.