The Russian's Acquisition

She stared into the dark, her mind unable to stop replaying those few minutes in Moscow when she’d learned about his past. I saw how you looked. I know what you think of me. She had let him down when he’d already been feeling humiliated by the uncovering of his deepest pain before the entire world.

Maybe she should have read more into his scar from the very beginning, but even though he was formidable and ruthless, she’d only ever seen that blaze as an injury, never a warning of cruelty or aggression. She’d instinctively understood it was the result of deep pain.

And maybe if they had more going on than sex between them, she might have had more immediate trust! She was nothing to him but his latest mistress, though. He’d made that clear while she was performing her little exercise in proving he had honor.

And she had certainly failed to think that through! She clenched her eyes shut, still throbbing with heat between her thighs while the rest of her ached with wounded disappointment and fear. Had honor stopped him or did he not want her anymore? He’d seemed as excited as she was, only stopping because she’d reminded him about birth control. She’d said it because she couldn’t bear to trap him into something he didn’t want. If they ever married, she wanted—

Clair sat up, instantly shaky and clammy all over. Where had that thought come from? She didn’t want to marry anyone.

Did she?

Yes! She curled into a ball, trying to contain the longing that exploded in her like a supernova. Years of denial were blown into fragments as, within seconds, a brilliant future unfolded in her mind: her with Aleksy and children in this house full of affection and laughter and love.

She was falling in love with him and it made knowing he only felt desire—maybe not even that anymore—unbearable. Her mind shot back to Paris and his, I’m not the marrying kind. She yearned to believe that was just the self-inflicted punishment he’d hinted at in the kitchen tonight, but even if it was, there was no guarantee he’d ever be interested in marrying her. Every solicitous, tender moment he’d shown her had been a prelude to sex. Because he wanted her body, not her. Never her.

With an angry sob, she threw herself back onto the pillows, ordering her longing back into its box, but it was futile. The fantasies continued.

Eventually she quit tossing and turning, sleeping hard from her journey through such taxing emotions and waking to a brilliant day. Coffee was already made when she entered the kitchen and Aleksy’s boots and jacket were missing. A quick glance out the window and she spotted him shoveling the snow off the drive.

When he wasn’t in his office over the next few days, talking and talking in every language he knew, that’s where he was, outside in the cold. She tried to stay busy preparing the final details for the launch of Brighter Days, but Aleksy filled her mind. Every time she saw him, he looked exhausted, as though he was barely sleeping. The media demands were obviously getting to him. She only wished there was something she could do, but he didn’t seem to want to share—which was one more layer on the cake of hurt she was carrying inside her chest.

Clair wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. Then her mobile rang unexpectedly. It was Lazlo.

Startled to hear him identify himself, she asked the only sensible question that could explain his ringing her number. “Are you looking for Aleksy? He’s upstairs. I was just going to ask him what he’d like for lunch.”

“Please don’t disturb him. He’s doing a live Web conference off his laptop. No, I’m calling for you, Ms. Daniels. I want to discuss the press release on your contribution to our investigation.”

“I haven’t contributed anything,” she broke in.

A significant pause; then, “As it happens, the calendar details you kept of Victor Van Eych’s appointments proved very helpful.”

“Oh.” Clair turned to sit on the stairs.

“We’ll be stating that even though you had no knowledge of the misappropriation of investor funds, it was thought you could be in danger from associates who might have feared that you did. This is why, despite any appearances otherwise, you have been the platonic guest of Aleksy Dmitriev since the takeover.”

Clair was glad she was sitting. Her blood seemed to drain out of her head, leaving her feeling empty as everything vital in her slithered away.

“Ms. Daniels?” Lazlo’s voice came from a long way away.

“Yes, I’m here. Is that what we’re stating?” she said, straining not to sound shrill.

“It neutralizes speculation and affords you more privacy in the future.”

“When I’m on my own, you mean.”