Innocent in the Ivory Tower

She turned her back on his incredulous face, kicked off the brake and kept moving, making a beeline for the gates.

Alexei slotted the car into a space overlooking the sea and took off after Maisy on foot. When Maria had casually told him Maisy had just walked out of the villa and taken the boy with her he’d been annoyed his security team hadn’t been alerted. The further information that she had taken Maria’s old Audi had infuriated him. Those hairpin bends were suicidal if you didn’t know them. But it was the sight of her in a flowery dress, with her arms and legs bare and all those pre–Raphaelite curls flowing down her back, being cat-called and ogled by Italian males that had sent him over the top.

Maisy wasn’t sure if he would drive away and leave them alone, or come after them. What she didn’t expect was for him to lay a hand on her elbow and wrench her almost off her feet. He whisked her around as if she were a doll. She had forgotten how big he was. The breadth of his shoulders and his musculature were outlined by the expensive weave of an olive T-shirt. Held up against him, Maisy felt warmth sweeping up into her cheeks, his proximity having the same upending effect on her senses it had had in London.

‘What in the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he blistered at her.

The sunglasses meant she couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel them nevertheless—boring into her.

‘Going into the gardens,’ she answered, trying to pull her arm free. But he had a firm grip. ‘For goodness’ sake, let me go. I don’t understand why you’re so angry.’

Alexei took in her wide hazel eyes and soft mouth, the colour in her cheeks. She was a time bomb waiting to go off. He couldn’t have this much woman living under his roof. He’d end up giving her anything she asked for.

She made a soft distressed sound as his hand instinctively tightened and he released her immediately, shocked by his own conduct. He had imagined—imagined—he could deal with her in a short interview at the house. Confront her with his investigator’s report, set out the terms for her remaining with Kostya until he settled, and then ignore her. He was doing a good job of ignoring her. For six days and seven nights. Long nights—except for the sixteen hours he had slept under the effect of a sedative.

He wasn’t unaccustomed to periods of time without a woman in his bed. There was something rejuvenating about the spread of a cool, empty king-size bed. But Maisy Edmonds had been there every night in his waking dreams, with her wild red curls and her lush, eminently squeezable bottom, and the spicy taste of her still tingling in his mouth. He hadn’t misremembered her mouth—it was sweet and pink. The places he had imagined that mouth had been … To see it now, unmarked by lipstick, soft and innocent-looking, he felt like a sex-crazed brute.

‘Leave my Maisy alone!’ stated Kostya, standing up in his pushchair. He had managed to unclip his belt, and this held Maisy’s amazed attention, whilst Alexei, deeply shaken by his reaction, faced her little protector with a tad more subtlety.

He instantly dropped down to Kostya’s height. ‘I didn’t mean to upset Maisy. I’m Maisy’s friend too. I came to bring you both home.’

‘Don’t want to go home. Want to be on holiday.’

‘The villa is holiday,’ explained Maisy, still looking at Alexei uneasily, as if he was liable to spring at her.

Alexei released his breath with a hiss and straightened up, extending his arms to Kostya. ‘Come on, little man. How about I carry you for a bit?’

Kostya looked up at Maisy, and after a hesitation she nodded encouragingly, holding her breath as Alexei lifted the little boy into his arms. For a minute it seemed he might protest, but Alexei held him confidently, and Maisy saw the moment the little body relaxed into the man’s shoulder.

It gave her a chance to observe him more closely. He was wearing jeans and they clung to him like a second skin. They also made him look younger, and it occurred to Maisy for the first time he was really only a few years older than she was. He couldn’t be more than thirty and look at the life he led, the power he wielded, the level of sophistication he wore so casually. Maisy suddenly felt hopelessly out of her depth—and she was—but she had Kostya’s wellbeing to fight for, and that gave her the added push she needed.

And the fact remained he had been gone for an entire week.

‘Where have you been for the last seven days?’ The words were out of her mouth before discretion could check her tongue.

He shrugged. ‘What does it matter? I’m here now.’

He was here now. Maisy simmered on that for a few minutes as they resumed their stroll. She leaned into the pushchair that felt light as a feather now Kostya wasn’t in it.