The Price of His Redemption

Even his bathroom was sexy, Libby thought as she stepped inside.

It wasn’t warm and inviting, but it was decadent all the same.

It was tiled in white and one wall was a mirror, set back in the middle and angled so that she could see her body from every direction. No, it wasn’t ballet exercises she envisaged as she stood there—instead, it was her and Daniil in this space.

Behind a glass wall were towels as thick as pillows. He had an array of toiletries and Libby spent a few giddy moments opening lids and inhaling his scent. At first she wondered where the shower was but when she flicked a button she soon found out that water came from a long rod set in the ceiling and shot in strong jets at her from every direction.

It was utter bliss and she stood for perhaps a while longer than one usually would in the circumstances and then she turned the water off and wrapped herself in one of his fluffy towels. She would have loved to have simply padded out and back to his bed.

Instead, she used all his lotions, not just for the luxurious feel of them on her skin and in her hair, more that for the entire day she would have a little of the scent of him.

‘That,’ Libby said, as she came into the kitchen, dressed as she had been last night but now all damp and pink, ‘was the nicest shower I have ever had.’

‘Good,’ he said, handing her a drink.

He had made her a frothy coffee and Libby added sugar and saw that Daniil drank black tea with the bag still in the cup.

As she perched on a bar stool he stood leaning against a counter, and it was awkward between them for the first time.

‘You should have take-out cups so that you can avoid the small talk,’ Libby commented, and he even managed a small smile.

‘I don’t normally do coffee.’

‘Well, I’ll consider it a compliment, then,’ she said. She made it halfway down her mug before the awkwardness became too much for her, and deciding that it really was time to go she hopped down from the bar stool. ‘If I want to get there before ten, I’d better head off.’

Daniil waited for one of two questions—for Libby to ask if he’d given any more thought to attending his parents’ anniversary celebration.

Or if they might see each other again.

‘I can have you driven or a taxi,’ Daniil offered.

‘No, thanks,’ she said, because that would mean she wouldn’t need to leave for a while and it was already tense between them.

Why did it have to be like this? she wondered.

It just did.

She’d heeded the warnings and had gone into it with her eyes wide-open, if a touch dilated by lust. No, she didn’t want him down on one knee, begging her not to go, but the ending of them was, for Libby, harder than she could ever have anticipated when she had accepted his invitation to bed.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said. She came around the kitchen bench and whether he wanted one or not she gave him a kiss on his cheek.

Even his clenched jaw was sexy, she thought. She wanted to rub her lips over his rough chin but she restrained herself.

A bit.

Well, no, she didn’t, she did exactly that. She wanted to coil around him and live on his hips, she thought as she inhaled his heady scent. She’d be no trouble at all, he could carry on with his day and just give her the odd glass of water and bar of chocolate.

‘What’s funny?’ Daniil said, as she pulled her head back.

‘The things that I think.’

She walked out with barely a sound and gave him a half-wave as she let herself out of the door and he stood there, waiting for her to turn around.

Oh, I was just wondering if you’d given it any more thought...

She didn’t.

You know you mentioned Firebird, well, maybe we could...

She didn’t suggest that they see each other again, either.

He heard the door close and at fifteen minutes to nine, some fourteen hours and forty-five minutes after they had met, Libby Tennent was gone.

* * *

Libby sat on the underground on the way to her appointment with the estate agent.

She was back to reality but after last night she knew she was changed forever.

Oh, she knew her mother would faint if she told her what she had got up to and her sensible older sister probably would, too. Then again, they’d always thought she had her head on backwards.

And her father?

Well, he’d thoroughly disapprove, of course, and then after ten minutes of sulking would be wondering how it might benefit the family business.

She was sick of it.

Guilt ridden with it, too.