The Price of His Redemption

And here she was again.

She had a bath and she deviated from the menu with a request of petals of her own—pale pink peonies and roses and calla lilies.

Damn the man. Till now anemones had been her favourite flower, which had been good because they were cheap.

Now, as she lay in her lovely bath with room service on the way, she pictured a life with half her wages spent on luxurious flowers just so she could remember this bliss.

* * *

Daniil had spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that it was because the sex was good between them that he kept going back to her.

But as dinner dragged on his theory worked less and less.

He could not stop thinking about her, wondering what she was doing in the suite, thinking back to their conversation and her demand for a text. He was actually considering sending one; he had her business card in his wallet and he could easily pause the conversation and do just that.

No.

He was seriously considering buying this place—he should have his mind more on the conversation.

It usually was.

Daniil never mixed business with pleasure—his mind was only ever on one thing at a time.

Tonight, though, his thoughts kept drifting several floors up. He was glad that he had brought Libby and it felt good to know that after this very long dinner meeting he could simply head upstairs to her.

No, he did not want a brandy. In fact, he drank his coffee down in one and wished the current owners goodnight.

Just after midnight he arrived at the penthouse suite.

The maid was wheeling away the trolley and he halted her. He lifted the lid on the plates and there were the dark remains of a chocolate soufflé and also another dish that looked as if it had once held ice cream.

Good for her, Daniil thought. He was glad she was making the most of the night.

He stepped quietly into the suite and the air smelled fragrant, even more so in the bedroom. For a small moment he thought she must have gone home because in the darkness the bed, though unmade, looked empty, but there, he soon realised, she was—curled up in a ball and sound asleep.

No, Daniil knew for certain then that it wasn’t sex that kept leading him back to her. She needed to sleep; he had seen how tired she’d looked tonight and for the first time in his life he undressed with the sole intention of not waking someone up.

He got into bed and the sigh she gave as she turned and curled into him was one of pure pleasure. He took her into his arms.

‘I had the very best night...’ Libby mumbled.

She had. It had been a completely indulgent night and it was better for knowing that he would soon join her. She was floaty and relaxed for the first time in... As his arms wrapped around her Libby lay there in a sugary haze, trying to remember how long it had been since she had felt this content and peaceful.

Since he had arrived in her life and turned it upside down?

No, because before then she had been grappling with the end of her dancing career and coming to terms with the fact that her performing days were over.

Before then, perhaps? No, because she had been grappling with her career just to stay in it.

And before then?

She had never known peace as if it was the answer.

‘Go to sleep,’ Daniil said, and kissed the top of her head, and she did just that.

It was a deep and dreamless sleep for both of them until just before dawn when Libby awoke in slight panic as his arms pulled her closer into him.

It didn’t reassure her.

He’d be gone soon.

Libby had considered herself fully warned.

She hadn’t thought that she might fall in love.

It was then she was honest with herself and admitted that she had done just that.

She was in love with Daniil Zverev, heartbreaker to the stars.

‘You’re okay,’ he said, as if he understood a sudden panic.

He did.

Daniil had woken on many occasions thinking of Roman and wondering where the hell he was in this world and how he himself could even stand to be on the planet without him.

In more recent days he had lain filled with dread at the thought of a night back at his parents’.

He could barely stand the thought of going there—he knew that it would be hell. He felt her start to relax in his arms and her breathing evened out. She rested her head on his chest. He thought how much more pleasant the evening had been, simply knowing that she was near and that when the meeting was over she would be there.

Yes, it was far more than sex.

Daniil had never asked for help with anything in his life. In fact, he considered it selfish that he was even considering putting her through the misery of Saturday night just to make things easier on him.