Lindsay closed and locked the door behind them, face averted, not breathing in again—and risk smelling that sickening scent of roses—until they had reached and started descending the stairs.
Which was when it hit her that Mikhail was taking her to his apartment.
“Non-negotiable, Lindsay,” Mikhail stated abruptly as he seemed to sense the exact moment she came out of her daze. “Until we find out who’s doing this, you’ll be safer at my apartment, where there’s a security guard on duty downstairs 24/7.”
She knew he was right, it was just—Mikhail was taking her to stay with him at his apartment!
“There’s plenty of space for you to have your own bedroom, if you would feel more comfortable with that?”
Lindsay frowned as she looked up at Mikhail. He couldn’t really believe her uncertainty was because she didn’t want to share a bed with him? Not after last night!
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m more than happy to share your bedroom, if—if you’re okay with that?” She grimaced as he raised a single brow over mocking blue eyes. “Okay, so you’re prepared to share. But I need to go into work, Mikhail—”
“Not happening,” he stated flatly as they left the apartment building and crossed the pavement to his car.
“Oh my God…” Lindsay groaned weakly as she saw the livid scratches gouged into the black paintwork along the car doors, and the word ‘bastard’ etched across the bonnet.
A nerve pulsed in Mikhail’s clenched jaw as he stared at the damage that had been deliberately inflicted on his car, possibly by a key but definitely a metal object.
“I am so sorry—”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Mikhail assured her through gritted teeth. The car was just an object, and easily repaired and resprayed, but what if the fucker came after Lindsay next, with the intention of inflicting similar damage to her?
Not going to happen. Not when he could prevent it.
“It isn’t safe for you to go into work today, Lindsay.” He was frowning grimly as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her to get in, before moving to stow her bag in the trunk.
There were tears in her eyes as she turned to watch him climb in behind the wheel beside her. “I’m definitely going to get fired!”
Mikhail gave a shake of his head as he started the car and accelerated into the heavy flow of morning traffic. “I’ll talk to Peter Haskell—don’t, Lindsay!” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as those tears overflowed and tracked down the pallor of her cheeks.
Lindsay hated it when anyone wailed and whined self-pityingly at fate for what was happening in their life, but at the moment she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from falling.
Last night with Mikhail had been…wonderful, the most amazing night of her life.
This morning it felt as if her world was crashing down about her ears.
Because some maniac had become fixated on her, and as a consequence was now targeting Mikhail, too. The wanton vandalism to his beautiful car was truly awful, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible.
And violated.
That realization caused her to feel anger rather than tears. Some bastard had invaded her apartment building, her life, her intimate personal life, with their destruction and selfishness.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she sat up straighter. “I’m going into work, Mikhail—no, please don’t argue,” she pleaded as he seemed about to do exactly that. “I’ll stay at your apartment with you, I’ll even take a taxi to and from work, but I refuse to allow this person into my life, or dictate what I can or can’t do.”
Mikhail couldn’t help but feel admiration for this woman. Impatience and anger too, for her stubbornness, but most of all admiration.
She was right, too. Much as he wanted to just hide Lindsay away in his apartment and keep her safe, he knew it wasn’t the answer either, that it would only feed the ego of the bastard who was hurting her. Or enrage him into doing something even more destructive than destroying roses and damaging Mikhail’s car.
“Okay.” He nodded stiffly. “But I’m driving you to and from work.” And arranging for a security guard to be on duty in a car outside the building, ensuring that no one entered or left who shouldn’t be there. Lindsay would probably object if she knew, so it was best not to tell her.
“Thank you.” Lindsay gave him a tremulous smile. “I—I’d offer to pay for the damage to your car but I really don’t have that sort of money saved!”
He gave a humorless smile. “Don’t worry, the insurance company will pay for it.”
Mikhail saw Lindsay safely into her office before returning to his car and putting a call through to Gerald, instructing the other man to arrange for a security guard to be placed discreetly outside the building. He also asked the other man to get him the home and work address of Lindsay’s ex-boyfriend. After which he relocked his car to go upstairs to talk with Peter Haskell.
He intended ensuring Lindsay didn’t lose her job, and to also explain the reason for the presence of the security guard outside the building.
Whoever was doing this, they wouldn’t get anywhere near Lindsay today, not if Mikhail could prevent it from happening.
* * *
TO SAY THAT Lindsay’s day had been a little strange would be putting it mildly.
After being the focus of Peter Haskell’s displeasure the day before, and having his telephone conversation with Mikhail afterwards prove fruitless, she really had thought the older man might haul her into his office today and read her the riot act at the very least. Instead, he had come down to her office personally mid-morning—something that had never happened before—to reassure her that the matter of the Barbour/Lysenko business deal was closed and forgotten.
Something she had yet to impart to David Barbour; he had telephoned today and made an appointment to come in and talk to her tomorrow morning.
She’d also received a private telephone call from Roger, during which he apologized for his behavior yesterday, assuring her he wouldn’t bother her again, and totally respected her decision and reason for not wanting to see him again.
Weird.
It was even more surreal to find Mikhail, and another equally as exclusive sports car, dark green this time, waiting outside for her when she left the building that evening in the company of an obviously curious Heather.
“Details, Lindsay,” the older woman warned in a stage-whisper as she returned Mikhail’s acknowledging wave before walking away with a jaunty bounce in her step.
Lindsay’s cheeks flushed a bright red, not because she wasn’t pleased to see Mikhail—she was, very much so—but because there was no way she would ever confide the details to anyone of all that had transpired between herself and Mikhail the night before.
And would possibly happen again tonight?
“Okay?” He prompted gruffly as he got out of the car to come and greet her.
“Yes,” Lindsay answered just as huskily, feeling unaccountably shy as her gaze didn’t quite meet his.
“Good.” Mikhail nodded his satisfaction before his head swooped down and he claimed her lips in a slow and lingering kiss. “I missed you today,” he murmured, his arms about her waist as he molded her softer curves against his much harder ones.
It was true, he had missed Lindsay. More than he had believed possible. More than he had known he could miss anyone.
Losing his mother had been hard, but as Viktor had whisked him off to Russia almost immediately afterwards, and he had then been assailed with a number of new experiences, there had never been the time to linger over that loss.
The years since had seen Mikhail constantly on the move as he acquired businesses worldwide, and slept with more women than he remembered the names of.
This was the first time thoughts of any one woman had encroached on that single-minded lifestyle.
A selfish lifestyle, where Mikhail had only ever thought of himself and what he needed or wanted?
&
nbsp; Possibly.
No—definitely.
The advent of Lindsay into his life these past few days had changed that. He had thought only of her today—her safety and ensuring her job wouldn’t be affected by a business decision he’d made.
Gerald’s telephone calls to the relevant florists hadn’t given any answers; none of them had sold thirteen or more black roses to a customer in the past three days.
His personal visit to Roger Maitland hadn’t been of any help, either; he had thought the younger man was going to wet himself when Mikhail strode into his office, before pinning him up against the wall and threatening to beat him to a pulp, if it should transpire he was responsible for delivering the black roses in order to upset or frighten Lindsay.
As for the screams of the other man’s almost hysterical secretary when she tried to pull Mikhail off Maitland…!
Mikhail had left the building heartily sick of the pair of them—and with the distinct impression that Maitland’s secretary was the woman the other man had cheated on Lindsay with.
Which made absolutely no sense to Mikhail; it really was like comparing zircon to a clear-cut and perfect diamond.
He intended treating Lindsay better than that, would prove to her not all men were bastards. Damn it, he’d even stopped off on his way here to pick up some groceries so they could make dinner together at his apartment later.
A domesticated, tamed, Mikhail Lysenko?
Mischa gave a contented rumble inside his chest.
The same Mischa who had raged totally out of control the night before?
Hell, yes; that wildness inside him had been insatiable last night, demanding and possessing, as he took Lindsay again and again.
And Mikhail already knew he was going to be even more demanding later on tonight…
Chapter Eleven
“THIS IS NICE.”
Which had to be the biggest understatement Lindsay had ever made—Mikhail’s apartment was incredible, not just nice.
He owned and lived on the whole of the top floor of a London skyscraper. A building that was all windows and polished chrome from the outside, and had imposing marble floors and walls in the entrance hall where the security guard manned the front desk and the elevators were situated; Mikhail’s penthouse apartment had its own private elevator that opened directly into a black marble vestibule.
He gave her a brief tour after they stepped out of the elevator. There were five en suite bedrooms, a gym, private cinema, a huge sitting room, a formal dining room and less formal breakfast room, and a kitchen that any master chef would surely kill to own. The walls in the main rooms were adorned with original paintings and prints by artists she had only read about in books, the furnishings obviously antiques.
And Mikhail owned his own private cinema!
Lindsay felt totally overwhelmed surrounded by such opulence.
“I’ll put your bag in my bedroom and then we can see about cooking dinner.” Mikhail nodded abruptly as he left her standing in the middle of the black and white kitchen.
What Lindsay would really like to do was take a shower and change out of her work clothes, but instead she stood forlornly in the middle of the state-of-the-art kitchen, feeling totally inadequate.
There couldn’t have been a surer way of confirming what she already knew—she was out of her depth in Mikhail’s world. In so many ways.
Had he realized that too, once he saw her standing here in her inexpensive suit and blouse? Was that the reason he had seemed so distant before he went off to deposit her bag in his bedroom? A beautiful room decorated in navy and ice blue, the furniture all dark mahogany, the room dominated by a huge bed.
Maybe she should suggest leaving—
“Shower’s on and there are fresh towels warming on the rack,” Mikhail announced as he came back into the kitchen. “You—what is it?” he prompted sharply as he saw Lindsay was still standing exactly where he had left her. “Lindsay?” He moved to stand in front of her, frowning his displeasure as she avoided meeting his gaze. “Talk to me, damn it,” he demanded as he lifted her chin so that she had no choice but to look at his throat, at least.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before speaking. “This is an imposition, Mikhail—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he growled, fingers tightening about her chin as his temper rose so quickly he had no chance of controlling it.
She still managed to keep her gaze from meeting his directly. “I should have gone to a hotel, not intruded on your privacy like this.” She gave a shake of her head.
Mikhail’s eyes narrowed. “The offer of staying at a hotel no longer applied after we found the roses outside your door this morning.” He cursed under his breath as her face seemed to pale even more at the reminder of those damned roses.
Not that Mikhail thought for a moment that Lindsay would have forgotten the destruction they found this morning. She was just determined not to let it rule her life.
Except he knew it was.
He had dismissed the body guard outside Haskell, Haskell, and Palmer when he arrived earlier to collect Lindsay, and he was pretty sure she had no idea the other man had been there watching and guarding all day.
But Lindsay hadn’t left the building once. He had telephoned earlier and checked with the receptionist as to why not, the other woman revealing that, yes, Lindsay usually purchased a sandwich from a local deli and then went to a local park to eat her lunch, but hadn’t done so today.
Today Lindsay had remained in her office, and probably hadn’t eaten any lunch at all. Which was another reason Mikhail had stopped and bought food for their dinner on the way to pick her up from work.
It wasn’t totally selfless of him either—Lindsay wouldn’t have the stamina for making love tonight if she hadn’t eaten all day!
This talk of her going to a hotel for the night only succeeding in pissing him off even more than he already was. “I want you here, Lindsay,” he grated.
Her eyes flickered up to his uncertainly. “I’m sure you must have other things you would prefer to do with your evening than babysit me?”
“Oh lots of them.” Mischa purred inside him. “First I want to fuck you on the kitchen table. Then in the cinema and maybe the gym, too. Followed by every bedroom in the apartment. But first, for doubting me, I should bend you over the foot of my bed and paddle your bare ass until your cheeks are pink and rosy and you’re soaking wet and aroused for me when I—”
“Mikhail!”
He might have been convinced by Lindsay’s show of outrage, if his name hadn’t come out sounding more like a groan than a protest, and he couldn’t see the excitement glittering in her eyes. “Mischa,” he assured her. “Tonight I’m all Mischa.”
The increased beat of the pulse in her neck showed she remembered exactly how out of control Mischa could be.
And that she liked it that way.
Not that Mikhail had any doubts on that score. The two of them were totally compatible physically, Lindsay willing to try and do everything he asked of her and more the night before. He had a feeling she might have surprised even herself, because she had a few ideas of her own in that department, and Mikhail was only too willing to fulfill them all.
“I don’t have doubts about you, Mik—Mischa,” she corrected huskily as he frowned. “I just don’t want to be a nuisance—”
“Can you cook?”
“Yes…”
Mikhail gave a slow smile. “A woman who not only satisfies Mischa’s every desire, but knows how to cook too, could never be considered a nuisance!”
A blush put some color back into her cheeks. “I’m being serious, Mik—Mischa,” she corrected again as his second frown was even darker than the previous one.
“So am I,” he assured as he picked her up in his arms and sat her on the edge of the kitchen table. “I just decided my first course is about to be you!”
“Mikhail!”
“Now you’ve displeased me a second
time.” He gave a reproving shake of his head.
“I meant, Mischa—”
“Too late.” He pushed her skirt up, his breath hissing out appreciatively as he saw Lindsay was wearing flesh-colored stockings held up by a cream lace garter belt worn beneath cream French knickers.
Had she worn them especially for him? Fuck, he hoped so.
Either way, the silk knickers were coming off. He was hungry for the taste of her, had thought of little else all day, and now it was time for him to feed.
Lindsay lost all track of time and space—couldn’t remember her own name!—as Mikhail licked and lathed her clit at the same time as his fingers penetrated her, thrusting, claiming as she cried out with each successive climax, juices flowing to be lapped up greedily by that marauding tongue.
“Mm,” Mikhail raised his head at last, lips and chin slick with her juices. “That was delicious. I think I might have you for dessert later too!”
Lindsay wasn’t sure she could move, or if she wanted to move, every part of her pleasured and aching.
Mikhail chuckled throatily as he took her hand and pulled her up into a sitting position before stepping in between her parted thighs and kissing her hard on the lips, arousing Lindsay all over again as she could taste and smell herself on him.
Mikhail broke the kiss. “Dinner. More sex. Then more sex. And after that—”
“More sex?” She eyed him teasingly as she slid down gingerly onto the tiled floor, her clit feeling swollen and throbbing, curls damp. “The shower!” she remembered with a guilty groan; she doubted the hot water in this apartment was limited as it was in her own building, but even so…
“Sex in the shower sounds good.” Mikhail took her hand as they walked down the hallway to the bathroom adjoining his bedroom, pretty sure the last half an hour had succeeded in diverting Lindsay’s thoughts away from those ugly black roses and who might be sending them.
* * *
LINDSAY LAY AWAKE in the dark and quiet of the apartment long after Mikhail had fallen asleep, his arms holding her close as her head rested on his bare shoulder.
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