The Double

I was squeezed so tight, I could barely answer. I had to breathe one small mouthful at a time. I turned to tell her that I couldn’t possibly stay like this.

Then I saw myself in the mirror. My waist had shrunk down smaller than I would have thought possible—hell, with Konstantin’s big hands, he’d practically be able to span it. And my ass and boobs now flared out into an hourglass. “Oh wow,” I croaked.

Victoria grinned and pulled the dress up around me, buttoning it up the back and adjusting the ribbons. Then she went into my closet and unpacked a huge box of frilly underskirts and attached them, filling the skirt out to its full, four-foot-wide magnificence. She helped me with my make-up and managed to get my hair to lie in one long black waterfall, cascading over one shoulder and down my front. She’d only just finished when an impatient Konstantin knocked on the door. She scurried out. He strode in and—

It was the first time I’d seen him in a tuxedo since Boston, what felt like a lifetime ago. I’d forgotten just how good all that black looked on him, how it emphasized the size of those broad shoulders and strong chest, how the soft white dress shirt hugged his pecs and revealed the muscled flatness of his abs. It wasn’t just the clothes, it was the way he wore them, as if he’d been born to this world. Those brooding good looks, the confidence...he looked royal.

Then he saw me and—

He was always unshakeable. But for once, he just stopped.

“Is it…” I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Do you—”

He marched across the room and grabbed my hands, lifting them. His lungs filled as he gazed down at me, his thumbs brushing over the backs of my fingers. “You—” His voice was tight with emotion and he fought to control it. “You look...exquisite.”

I felt something lift and soar inside my chest. My hands squeezed his and we stared at each other.

“Here,” he said, digging in his pocket. “I want you to wear this.”

He could have draped me in some huge, garish, diamond-encrusted thing worth hundreds of thousands of dollars—that’s what most rich Russian men would do. But instead, he opened a simple black jewelry box and handed me something much more valuable.

It was very old, the silver lovingly polished. A single, thin chain held a pendant in the shape of a ten-pointed star. The gem at the center was the same pale blue as Konstantin’s eyes, when he had one of those rare moments of softness.

Like now.

My heart was thumping. I knew there must be a story behind it, one that went deep into his past, but I didn’t dare ask. He came around me and started to fasten it on me. I dipped my head forward obediently and the slow dance of his warm fingers on the back of my neck as he pushed my hair out of the way and then fastened the necklace was the best thing I’d ever felt in my life.

“There,” he said, and pressed lightly on my shoulders to tell me to turn around. I turned to him, glancing down. The pendant was resting just above my breasts. I looked up and—

All the moments when he’d smoldered at me, all those times when it had nearly bubbled over into something real, something more than just sex...all of those moments paled into insignificance next to this. His eyes blazed blue, as if they were reflecting the gem. Then his gaze slid down to my lips and I could feel them throbbing and tingling, and then my gaze was sliding inexorably down to his lips and—

He tore his gaze away, dropped my hands, and shook his head savagely as if telling himself not to be silly. No, I thought desperately. Don’t! Keep going! Then I caught myself. It’s better, like this. Things were complicated enough, without us falling for each other. If that could even happen. I couldn’t have feelings for a man like him...could I? And according to Christina, he was incapable of feeling anything.

But if that was true, what was going on? Organizing this super-traditional ball, buying me the dress, giving me the necklace...that felt the opposite of cold and heartless. This whole thing...it meant something to him.

He took a deep breath, gathering his self-control, still not looking at me. “There are shoes in the box,” he told me.

Shoes. My mind was still whirling from the nearly-kiss so I didn’t pick up on it. I dug in the tissue paper in the box and found heels in the exact blue to match the dress. It was only when I bent over to slip them on that I remembered that he’d have bought them in Christina’s size. Crap! I wriggled my toes in. Yep: they were a full size too small. And I had nothing in my size that was remotely similar and anyway, he was standing right there. I’ll tell him it must be a mistake in the manufacturing. They say five, but they’re really a four. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak—