The moment was broken by the sound of Marcus Benning’s voice from the other side of the door.
‘Ella—time to go. Are you ready?’
‘Almost.’ A bubble of laughter rose in her throat as Vadim swiftly donned his trousers while she refastened his shirt buttons. He slid the straps of her dress back into place, set her on her feet and grimaced as he smoothed the creases out of her skirt.
‘At least you’ve got more colour in your cheeks,’ he murmured, running his finger lightly down her flushed face. ‘How are the nerves?’
‘What nerves?’ Her smile stole his breath. She picked up her violin and headed for the door. ‘Wish me luck?’
‘You don’t need it, angel face. You’ll wow the audience.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Play for me,’ he said softly.
‘I will.’ She took a deep breath before she unlocked the door, and smiled serenely at Marcus as she swept past him and along the corridor towards the stage.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE received a standing ovation. Blinking bemusedly in the glare of the lights, Ella gave a final bow and turned to walk off the stage, the thunderous applause from the audience echoing in her ears.
‘You were bloody marvellous,’ Marcus greeted her buoyantly. ‘I knew your nerves would disappear the minute you played the first note.’
Ella nodded weakly. She felt utterly drained, both emotionally and physically, and longed to retreat to the quiet of her dressing room, but she knew that Marcus had arranged for her to give interviews to several journalists at the after-concert party.
She spent the next hour chatting and smiling until her jaw ached. Marcus paraded her around the reception, where it seemed that everyone wanted to meet her, but although she scanned the room whenever she had the opportunity she was disappointed not to see Vadim. Perhaps he had flown back to London immediately after the concert? She knew he was negotiating an important deal in the capital, and the fact that he owned a private jet meant that he could travel whenever it suited him.
Taking advantage of a lull in conversation, she escaped to a quiet corner of the room and rubbed her brow wearily, aware of the familiar throbbing pain behind her temples that warned of the onset of a migraine.
‘Do you have your painkillers with you?’ Vadim materialised at her side, and she was so shocked at the sight of him, when she had convinced herself he had returned to England, that for a few seconds she could not disguise the emotion that flared in her eyes.
He was so stunningly handsome that she actually hurt inside when she looked at him, but she did not possess sufficient willpower to look away. They were back in Paris, where they had first met. She recalled vividly the feeling that she’d been struck by a lightning bolt when she had glanced across a crowded room and seen him for the first time. She had known then that he spelled trouble, she mused ruefully. She had sensed that he would be dangerous to her peace of mind and she had tried to fight the simmering sexual chemistry between them. But the truth was he fascinated her in a way no other man had ever done.
He had stated that their affair would last until either of them wanted to end it. But as her eyes locked with his brilliant blue gaze a sense of longing for something she could not explain unfurled deep inside her, and with it came a sharp stab of pain as she envisaged a time in the probably not too distant future when they would no longer be lovers. She could not be falling for him, she reassured herself frantically. She always felt emotional after a performance, and the ache in her heart was definitely not because she wished for more from her relationship with Vadim than simply great sex.
Vadim watched the play of emotions in Ella’s stormy grey eyes and correctly deciphered each one. He frowned, silently debating whether it would be fair to go ahead with his plans. He did not want to hurt her. But, reasoned the voice in his head, he had made it clear from the beginning that he had no intention of allowing their affair to develop into something deeper.
He’d only ever wanted a mutually enjoyable sexual liaison, and he was infuriated that she seemed to have some sort of hold over him. He had spoken the truth when he’d told her that he had missed her during the five days—and hellish nights—that she had been in Paris, preparing for the concert. But he knew from experience that, for him, prolonged intimacy bred boredom. The best way to get her out of his system was to spend all his time with her, and that was exactly what he was going to do for the next days or weeks—however long it took for him to tire of her.
‘My tablets are in my dressing room,’ she told him. ‘Do you think anyone will notice if I disappear from the party for a while?’
‘I’ve already told Marcus we’re leaving.’ Vadim smiled at her startled expression and slipped his arm around her waist to steer her over to the door. ‘I assume you’ve had enough of the party?’
‘Heavens, yes,’ she agreed fervently. ‘I’m staying at the Intercontinental again. Have you booked into a hotel?’ she queried when they reached her dressing room. She quickly took a couple of the strong painkillers that would hopefully prevent her headache from developing into a full-blown migraine.
‘No, I’m flying out on the jet tonight—and you’re coming with me.’
Ella’s heart flipped at the prospect of returning to Kingfisher House with Vadim when she had expected to spend another night at her hotel, alone.
‘I take it you have no argument with the arrangements?’ he murmured as he drew her into his arms.
‘None at all. I can’t wait to go home,’ she admitted, hectic colour staining her cheeks when she imagined him making love to her in his big bed back at the house she loved. ‘But I’ll have to stop off at the hotel to collect my things.’
‘One of my staff will do that.’ He claimed her mouth in a long, sensual kiss that stirred her desire back into urgent life, and when he finally released her she snatched up her handbag and followed him out to the corridor. She collected her violin from the security desk—after refusing point-blank Vadim’s suggestion that his PA would arrange for its safe transportation.
‘My violin stays with me at all times,’ she explained.
‘So I’ve discovered. I must admit it’s a novelty to share my bedroom with a musical instrument,’ Vadim said dryly, referring to her insistence on keeping her violin beside the bed at Kingfisher House.
They emerged from the Palais Garnier to be met by a barrage of flashing camera bulbs. Ella had known that her performance had attracted some media interest, but it soon became clear that the press were more curious about her relationship with playboy billionaire Vadim Aleksandrov. ‘Maybe I should go back inside,’ she muttered as they were jostled by the dozens of photographers who were vying to snap the best shots of the enigmatic Russian and his beautiful companion who was rapidly becoming an international star.
In reply Vadim slid his arm around her waist and shouldered his way through the crowd, seemingly unconcerned that his action had incited fevered interest among the journalists. ‘Don’t worry about them,’ he told her when they finally reached the car, where his chauffeur was holding the door open for them to scramble inside.
‘But they’ll think we’re…together,’ Ella said uncertainly, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the camera bulbs that continued to flash outside the car’s windows. ‘You know how the paparazzi exaggerate things. News that we’re having a torrid affair will probably be in all tomorrow’s tabloids.’
Vadim shrugged. ‘What does is matter what they say? It’s the truth, anyway. For now, we are together, angel face.’
He seemed perfectly at ease with the likelihood that their affair would soon be common knowledge, but in London Ella had noted that he had deliberately avoided places where they might have been spotted by the press, and had taken her to out-of-the-way restaurants where they had not attracted attention. Did the fact that he now seemed happy for them to be seen in public together mean that he wanted their relationship to develop into something deeper than a meaningless sexual liaison? she wondered, annoyed with he
rself for the little flutter of hope in her chest. Daydreams were for children, she reminded herself irritably. And since when had she decided that Vadim was her knight in shinning armour?
They took off from Charles de Gaulle Airport within minutes of boarding the Learjet. Ella had never been on a private plane before, and as she glanced around at the elegant cabin, with its cream leather sofas, cocktail bar and vast cinema screen, she appreciated for the first time how very different Vadim’s world was from hers. Even the two female flight attendants looked like top models, she noted wryly, and a poisonous little voice in her head wondered if they provided in-flight entertainment when he travelled on his numerous business trips around the world.
‘You look like a ghost,’ Vadim murmured, frowning as he studied her pale features. ‘Is your headache worse?’
‘No, I’m just tired,’ she replied quickly, praying that his uncanny ability to read her mind would not reveal the flare of jealousy that had ripped through her when one of the flight attendants had leaned unnecessarily close to him as she had served him his drink. ‘Where are we going?’ she queried in a puzzled voice, when he unfastened her seat belt and drew her to her feet.’
‘Bed,’ he informed her succinctly.
Her heart lurched at the wicked gleam in his eyes, and she gasped when he swung her into his arms and strode towards the back of the plane. He shouldered a door and walked into a plush sleeping compartment, complete with vast double bed. ‘You certainly like to travel in comfort,’ she muttered as he laid her down and removed her shoes. The idea that he was going to make love to her when they were thirty thousand feet in the air was shockingly exciting, but to her dismay he did not join her on the bed, instead drawing the cover up to her chin as if he were taking care of a small child.
‘Go to sleep,’ he bade her gently, wondering why her air of fragility tugged on his heart. ‘I’ll wake you when we’re about to land in Nice.’
The moment Ella’s head touched the pillows exhaustion overwhelmed her, and her sleepy brain could not comprehend Vadim’s last statement. ‘Don’t you mean Heathrow?’ she mumbled. ‘We’re flying to London, not Nice.’
‘Actually, we’re on our way to my villa in the Cap d’Antibes,’ he informed her, pushing her gently back down on the mattress when she struggled to sit up. ‘Nice is the closest airport.’
She shook her head in confusion. ‘Do you mean we’re going to France for the weekend?’
‘I’m planning on us staying for a few weeks,’ he informed her smoothly.
‘Well, that might be your plan, but it’s certainly not mine,’ she snapped, annoyed by the arrogance in his tone. ‘I can’t just disappear to France indefinitely.’
‘I checked with Marcus Benning, who told me your diary is clear for the next month. You’re not scheduled to record the film score with the RLO until the end of August. Marcus actually agreed with me that it will do you good to have a holiday.’
‘Oh, did he? It’s nice to know the two of you have organised my life for me,’ Ella said tightly, using sarcasm to disguise her panic at the prospect of spending the next few weeks with Vadim at his villa. He had changed the rules of their affair without asking her, she thought bitterly. Sharing a holiday with him and being with him twenty-four hours a day was a daunting prospect. They might drive each other mad. But far more worrying was the possibility that she would fall even deeper under his spell—and that would be just asking to have her heart broken.
She could see from the determined set of Vadim’s jaw that arguing about the trip to his villa would be pointless, especially as they were already en route to France. But she would be on her guard against him, she assured herself as she lay back down on the pillows. And with that thought firmly in her mind she fell asleep.
The Villa Corraline was a stunning Provençal-style house, set in beautiful grounds and commanding spectacular views of the coastline of the Côte d’Azur. It was dark when they arrived, and Ella was instantly captivated by the sight of the house, lit with lamps which turned the pink walls to a deep coral colour. When she followed Vadim inside, she glimpsed various elegant, marble-floored rooms, but she was still dazed with sleep, and only made a token protest when he swept her into his arms and carried her up the sweeping staircase to the huge, circular master bedroom, which was dominated by an enormous bed.
‘I only packed enough clothes for a week,’ she said, when she caught sight of the small suitcase that a member of Vadim’s staff must have collected from her hotel in Paris.
‘You’ll find everything you need in here,’ he replied, pulling open one of the wardrobes to reveal a rail full of dresses and skirts in a rainbow of soft colours that would suit Ella’s delicate skin-tone.
Frowning, she ran her hand along the row of clothes, noting that each item carried the label of a top design house. ‘I don’t understand. Who do these things belong to?’ she asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she remembered how he kept a selection of bathrobes in his wardrobe at Kingfisher House for his lovers. If he thought she would wear clothes belonging to one of his previous mistresses, he’d better think again!
‘They’re yours. I gave details of your size and colouring to a personal stylist and asked her to put together a selection of outfits for you,’ he explained with a shrug—as if the subject of what she would wear during their stay in France was of minimal interest.
‘I can’t possibly allow you to buy clothes for me,’ Ella told him fiercely. She owned a few designer evening gowns which she had bought for performances, and she had a good idea how much each item hanging in the wardrobe must have cost. The idea of being beholden to any man was repugnant to her. ‘I pay my own way,’ she told Vadim stiffly. ‘Perhaps your personal stylist will be able to take the clothes back and get a refund.’
Ella was the only woman he had met since he had achieved billionaire status who did not seem to think that an affair with him included unrestricted use of his credit card, Vadim noted.
His eyes narrowed on her flushed face, and for a moment Ella thought she had angered him, but then his mouth curved into a sensual smile that she found impossible to resist. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You need something to wear while you’re here. Many of my friends own houses along the coast, and we will do a fair amount of socialising. Although if you insist on walking around naked for the next couple of weeks I won’t complain,’ he promised, in a voice that was suddenly as rich and sensuous as crushed velvet.
The brush of his mouth across her lips, before he trailed a line of kisses down her throat to the pulse beating jerkily at its base, demolished her thought processes and effectively put an end to further argument about the clothes he’d bought for her. But later that night, after Ella had briefly donned a sexy black silk chemise, and he had teased and tormented her senses as he had taken his time removing it, she made a silent vow that she would only wear the clothes while she was his mistress, and would return them when their affair was over.
After a night when Vadim made love to her three times, and drove her to a shattering climax on each occasion, Ella did not stir until mid-morning. Sunlight dancing across her face finally prompted her to open her eyes, and she caught her breath at the magnificent view of the cobalt-blue Mediterranean visible through the glass walls of the circular room.
‘I take it the house meets with your approval?’ Vadim was propped up on one elbow beside her, amusement gleaming in his eyes when he took in her rapt expression. He looked devastatingly sexy, with a night’s growth of dark stubble shading his jaw and his olive-gold skin gleaming in the sunlight, and the sheet lying low over his hips barely covered the jutting length of his arousal.
‘It’s wonderful.’ Looking at him made her heart ache, and she quickly glanced back at the view, praying he would never guess how much he affected her.
‘You haven’t seen the pool yet—or the gardens, or the private beach.’ Her beautiful smile tugged at Vadim’s insides. Her excitement was infectious, and for the first time in years he found
he was looking forward to having some time away from the punishing work schedule he imposed on himself. ‘We’ll spend the day exploring the house and grounds,’ he promised, ‘and this afternoon we can go to the beach and I’ll take you out on the jet-ski.’
They quickly fell into a pattern of spending their days by the pool or on the beach, sometimes driving into Antibes town, or along the coast to Cannes and St Raphael. Occasionally Vadim retreated to his study to work during the afternoons, but more often he sat on the terrace and listened to Ella play the violin for two or three hours at a stretch.
‘What are you going to serenade me with today?’ he quipped late one afternoon, when they had retreated from the blazing heat of the patio to the shade of the tall pine trees that surrounded the garden.
‘I thought a little Tchaikovsky to start with, followed by Brahms.’ Ella turned the pages of her music score and settled her violin beneath her chin. ‘I still find it strange to play wearing a bikini,’ she owned with a smile.
‘You could always take the bikini off,’ Vadim suggested dulcetly, ‘if that will help?’
She blushed at the wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know what happens when I take my clothes off.’
‘Mmm, I feel duty-bound to make love to you.’ Vadim trailed his eyes over Ella’s slender figure in her minuscule turquoise bikini, and allowed his gaze to linger on her small, firm breasts which were barely covered by the triangles of material. Would he ever have enough of her? he wondered as he felt himself harden. She was like a fever in his blood, and he was tempted to carry her inside and sate his hunger for her for the third time that day.
‘I really need to practise,’ she murmured, recognising the sultry intent in his eyes.
His smile stole Ella’s breath, and her heart seemed to swell in her chest until she was sure he could see it beating frantically beneath her ribs. Surely she was not imagining the close bond that she sensed was developing between them? she thought, hope soaring inside her. They had become friends as well as lovers, Vadim shared her love of music, and he was the only person she had ever met apart from her mother who seemed to understand how much it meant to her.
Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence Page 13