Innocent in the Ivory Tower

Maisy kept going. If she could just get to her room and shut the door, get herself together before she had to face him again, it would be all right. But he was undoing her with every word.

Of course he followed her into her room. She wasn’t going to get any time alone. With her head in overdrive, she was wondering just how she could bring up the spectre of a million other women and not sound like a jealous shrew?

‘Can I have a minute?’ she asked, her voice light and thin.

‘I haven’t seen you all day, Maisy. Didn’t you miss me?’ He had closed the door and was leaning back against it, all lean, muscular grace. His stunning blue eyes were not on her, however. They were on the bags.

The room had a whole wall of glass facing onto a terrace. The view was breathtaking. But Maisy turned her back to the water, setting down her bags on the floor. ‘I haven’t had much time to miss you,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I was so busy. Did you have a lovely day with Kostya?’

He gave her a tight smile, and she realised her odd behaviour was impacting on him. He pushed away from the door, coming towards her with an intent that made her step back. If he touched her now she would hit him. He merely dumped her bags on the bed.

‘You have been a busy girl. A complete wardrobe overhaul?’

‘No,’ Maisy said slowly, ‘just a few new dresses. I packed for Paris, not Italy, and it’s very warm, and I thought—’ She broke off, wondering why she was explaining herself to him.

Defending herself.

‘I got Kostya some overalls and the sweetest pair of pyjamas,’ she barrelled on, determined to steer the subject into more neutral waters.

She caught her breath as Alexei snagged a lingerie carrier.

Suddenly, knowing what she did and in this mood, she didn’t want him to see her purchases. She had made them when she felt loved-up, and she was feeling distinctly frozen out right now. Amazing what being at the end of a long line of sensationally attractive women did for an ordinary girl’s ego.

‘No—don’t,’ she said, reaching for the bag. But he whipped it out of her reach.

‘You can’t disappoint me now, dushka. I mean, you hardly made this little purchase for yourself.’

And he shook out all the frilly nothings she had indulged in over the bed.

He zeroed in on an ivory satin negligee with lace inserts. Maisy put a hand to her temple. She could hardly pretend now she hadn’t made these purchases for him.

Alexei didn’t know what he’d expected to find. The satin slid through his fingers like water. It was a classic negligee. His gaze went to the bra-and-knicker sets on the bed. All classy, in pale colours. Nothing outrageous, nothing overtly sexy—everything to remind him Maisy had been wearing plain white knickers with just a bit of lace this morning.

Suddenly he knew he’d blundered. He couldn’t see a price tag on any of this, he just saw understated elegance, and he was given the strong impression of a woman who had come into his life without any intention of seducing a man. He could have told her all she needed to do was smile at him and he was hers.

‘I like this,’ he said gruffly.

‘I don’t think they have it in your size,’ Maisy said tartly, surprising him, reaching out and snatching it out of his hand. She added assertively, ‘I didn’t buy this for you. I bought it for me.’

He smiled slowly, watched the wariness in her eyes turn into something else—something closer to where they had been first thing this morning. He liked it when she was like this: ready to stand up for herself, willing to take him on. Few people did it in his world. He liked it when it was the woman in his bed.

Which reminded him. ‘Wear it tonight,’ he said, more abruptly than he’d meant.

She frowned. ‘Is that an order or a request?’

‘And wear your hair down,’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken, crowding her. He couldn’t help himself. She smelled like sandalwood and bergamot, and that indefinable Maisy-smell he’d had tattooed on his skin this morning.

Maisy opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but he picked up one of her ringlets and bussed the end of her nose with it.

‘Don’t look so dire, Maisy. It’s just sex.’ And with that he bent and brushed his mouth over hers, effectively silencing her.

She tried to tell herself he hadn’t just given her the real terms of their arrangement, but something curdled deep in her belly. First the money, and then all those other women. She would never mention the other women to him—she had too much pride—but by God she would tackle him over the money.

She pushed her hands up against his chest and gave him a shove.