“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
He shrugs. “It’s not true. I don’t want swimsuit models. I don’t want a string of women. As I already told you, I haven’t wanted a woman in a long time. There is nobody else for me, Victoria. And I can prove it to you. Come home with me and I’ll prove it.”
I stare into his eyes, and all I see there is honesty. And when I think back to the time we spent together, I never detected anything but pure emotions from him: lust, sure, desire too; but also love. Caring. A need to protect me. I draw a deep breath and look down, away from his eyes as I murmur: “I’d like that.”
Next moment, I feel his hand under my chin, lifting my head so that I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Let’s leave.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
I find myself nodding. “Okay.”
Without another word, he grabs my wrist and pulls me up from my seat, opening his wallet and tossing the entire contents—more money than I’ve seen in my life—onto the centre of the table. Then he moves his hand to the small of my back as he walks me to the front of the restaurant. Before we get to the doors, he’s pulling out his phone and dialling, then muttering, “Pull the car around. Now.”
“Mr. Cossack, is everything all right?”
We both turn to find Cornelius standing there, and for a moment I feel Dimitri tense beside me when my new boss’s eyes fall on me. Then he relaxes, and it’s clear he’s detected what I felt the first time I spoke to Cornelius: he’s no threat to Dimitri’s claim on me.
Claim on me. Did I really just think that?
The idea of being claimed seems so archaic to me, so old fashioned, but it calls to me nonetheless. I want to be claimed by Dimitri, for the whole world to know that I’m his and they’d better not overstep.
“Everything is fine,” Dimitri says. “I’ve left enough on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip.”
“What about your desserts, sir?”
I glance over to see the two waiters carrying trays of desserts, looking unsure of what they’re supposed to do with them. A lot of effort has gone into producing them, and I draw a breath as I think about how I’d feel if I’d just stood there making food only for the customer to walk out.
Dimitri shrugs. “We don’t need—”
“Please load them into the car,” I interject, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ll take them with us. Thank you.”
Dimitri turns to me, but my face is set and it must be clear that I’m not about to change my mind. “Fine. Please do as the lady said.” He presses harder on my lower back. “Now, we’re leaving.”
“Not so fast, buster,” I mutter, and see the question in his eyes. “You haven’t apologized to Cornelius yet.”
10
Dimitri
VICTORIA GLANCES AROUND the room as we enter my house. The only lights are the candles that are set along every wall, while the smell of roast dinner drifts through to greet us. On the table inside the door, there is a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a dozen red roses, with a card that reads: Victoria.
She turns to me, a question in her eyes, and I nod. “I needed you here tonight.”
After I’d apologized to her boss at the restaurant, which is something I haven’t done in as long as I can remember, I was hoping we’d be on our way straight over here.
Nope, wrong again.
I swear this girl has me wrapped around her little finger. On the way home we passed a homeless shelter and my girl insisted that we stop and take the desserts from the restaurant inside for the homeless people to share. She said we didn’t need more than two, and told me to choose one for myself and one for her.
How could I possibly resist?
“You did all this for me?” She asks as she wanders through to the dining room and gasps. “How many people are going to be eating with us?”
“Just us,” I say, following her through. “I was guessing you wouldn’t have eaten at the restaurant.”
“No, but you have.” She turns to me, and for the first time she wraps her arms around my torso, pulling herself into my chest.
I hug her back, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and holding her close as I shrug. “High metabolism. I can eat again. Not that it’s food I’m hungry for.”
She giggles. “Well, I don’t want this food to go to waste.”
“Ah, you’re back,” Sarah’s voice comes through as she enters from the kitchen. “I had cook lay out the food on the table as requested, and I’ve dealt with the other tasks you set for me.” She smiles. “You must be Victoria.”
I texted Sarah when we stopped at the homeless shelter, and told her to get everything prepared for when we arrived home. My house is an old manor from the 1920s, set in several acres of woodland that shields me from the outside world. I know it might seem antisocial, but the truth is I like to be away from people when I’m relaxing.