The Only Woman to Defy Him

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘When do I sleep?’

  ‘Monday, eight a.m.’ Demyan said, between hot, urgent kisses as he pressed into and tried to breathe his bad into her. ‘I tuck you into bed in my hotel and I pay you to sleep. Or is that inappropriate?’

  ‘No,’ Alina breathed, but as his fingers moved up her skirt her hand halted him. ‘That’s inappropriate.’

  ‘Funny girl.’ He looked at her. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She was on a high she had never been on. He was back and it was like nothing she had known. That she had him, even if for a little while, was the most delicious treat and she would not waste their time with shyness.

  She had perhaps a few days, maybe a couple of weeks with the most beautiful billionaire in the world, and she had no intention of looking at prices.

  ‘I want to go to the casino opening.’

  ‘What else?’ Demyan said. ‘Tell me, don’t hold back, what do you think a night in my world is like?’

  ‘I don’t know...’ Alina begged, ‘Sex on the beach...’

  ‘You can do better than that.’

  She was holding back because otherwise she’d be being taken in the street yet he pulled back a little from her and God help Demyan because the brown eyes that met his were just so clear and non-calculating. She could have asked for her pick from any jewellery shop and it wouldn’t have been about money, just escape, just... His mind searched for the word and it had nothing to do with language, because the word had never existed for Demyan till now.

  Fun.

  He partied, he did whatever pleased him.

  It had never been as simple as fun.

  ‘What does Alina love to do when she’s not being a PA or waitressing?’ He smiled a slow lazy smile as he looked at her, waiting for her to reveal a bit more of her truth, but still Alina resisted, and for now Demyan chose not to push.

  ‘Come on, then...’ He kissed the tip of her nose before taking her hand. ‘We go to the casino.’

  ‘I didn’t RSVP.’

  ‘Good, then we make a better entrance.’

  ‘Can I go and have a shower?’

  ‘No point,’ Demyan said. ‘You’ll still smell of sex.’

  * * *

  Sydney was pulsing, the crowds building as the rich and famous gathered to celebrate the opening of the luxurious complex.

  They drove past the red carpet where lights were flashing as security tried to hold the gathering crowd back, and Alina blinked as they drew up at a side door and she realised that again it was her turn to get out.

  ‘You can be such a bastard without even trying,’ Alina hissed.

  ‘You want to go on the red carpet in your waitressing outfit?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then go and choose something to wear.’ The door was being opened by two burly security guards.

  ‘Demyan, I have no idea what to get.’

  ‘You had no trouble choosing the other night,’ Demyan said, opening his wallet and handing her a card. ‘Go, get your hair done or whatever. I wait for you here.’

  ‘Demyan, the other night...’ He waited, waited for her to tell him that it had been a dress that had been born from her own hands, but instead she shook her head. ‘It’s not just about money...’

  ‘It has nothing to do with money, it is what you think of you,’ Demyan said, ignoring her frown as she tried to make out his words. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  Because the new casino was strictly by invitation for its opening night it was heaving with beautiful people. It was also laden with shops that Alina would never think of going into had she not had Demyan waiting outside.

  First she found a bathroom and had a quick wash as she gave herself a small pep talk. To hell with being nervous Alina decided as she headed out to the boutiques and walked into the one that beckoned the most.

  ‘I need a dress for tonight.’

  ‘Did you have anything in particular in mind?’ An assistant gave a very nice smile. ‘This is just in...’ She held up what to Alina looked like a huge black cape.

  ‘I like colour,’ Alina said, her eyes homing in on an incredibly slinky number, the Monet of dresses—it was lilacs and greens and the prettiest of whites. It came with its own built-in underwear that tamed her breasts but did not contain them, and had small poppers in a crotch that Alina struggled to do up.

  Yes, she loved colours, Alina thought as the experts dealt with her face and hair, and soon she was staring in the mirror at silver-lilac eyelids and a mouth painted pink that might look sweet were it not so wanton.

  And Alina liked glossy curls.

  And naming beautiful shoes.

  Alina tried to decide between I-Lost-It-To-Demyan shoes, which were willow green and had six-inch heels, and Take-Me-From-Behind shoes, which consisted of heels, a single purple strap and not much else.

  ‘Both,’ Alina said, as she stared down at her pretty feet. ‘I’ll take both.’

  He would not recognise her, Alina thought as she stepped out of the shadows and into his car.

  He did.

  It was the woman who had opened the door to him that night of the ball, a woman who smelt of summer and anticipation, a woman whose river ran deep for she kept her secrets hidden.

  ‘Tiy viy-gli-dish’ kra-see-va.’ He said what he had said the evening she had opened the door in that amazing dress.

  ‘You have a thing about my nipples, Demyan.’

  ‘I do,’ he freely admitted, but he told her the truth now. ‘It actually means you look beautiful. You did then and you do now.’

  With Demyan she felt it.

  It was giddying, stepping out to the cameras and to the shouts and cheers because Zukov was there, but who was this woman on his arm?

  ‘Your friends will get a surprise...’ Demyan said, as they danced through to the small hours, for they would be all over the papers tomorrow.

  ‘My friends won’t even recognise me,’ Alina said, and it came with a bit of a jolt that Demyan had. That this version of her, the one who felt more like herself than she ever had, was one that neither her friends or family had met.

  They headed to the gaming rooms and, yes, Alina turned heads.

  What was it? she mused.

  Because she’d have felt like a Christmas decoration had she worn this dress just a week ago. Now, though, she was on fire.

  ‘I’m going to win.’ She knew that she was as he kissed the dice in her palm and his tongue met her skin.

  She was.

  Alina simply knew it.

  Tonight a win was inevitable.

  ‘No!’ Alina screamed, when the gods didn’t oblige.

  ‘Again,’ Demyan said, urging her on.

  ‘Ow!’ she screamed, when still the stars did not align.

  ‘Again,’ he urged. People were starting to gather and she turned to him, to his kiss, to her winnings.

  ‘I can’t wait for the beach...’ Demyan moaned to her mouth, for he had organised a helicopter while she’d shopped.

  ‘I can’t either.’

  ‘I mean, I can’t wait.’

  ‘Me too.’

  He kissed her all the way up in the elevator, his tongue almost savage, but Alina’s was too. He nearly had her in the hall. She was vaguely aware of a butler rapidly disappearing as they fell through an open door.

  Those tiny poppers that had been so hard to do up were her undoing now for Demyan was inside before the door even closed. Frantic, urgent sex where she could barely even lift her legs, such was the force of the man pinning her down.

  ‘God, Alina...’

  It was new-shoes-worthy sex, it was amazing sex. There was nothing she could complain about for she was shouting his name too and coming as rapidly as Demyan
...

  It was the aftermath that confused.

  She lay there, staring up at the ceiling with Demyan on top of and inside her, and then turned her head slightly and looked around.

  They were in a very luxurious suite, but a different one. Though it was similar to the one she had become used to.

  It took a moment to register that he must have booked them into the casino hotel.

  What man kept two presidential suites on the go?

  It took another unsettling moment for Alina to realise that she hadn’t even known where she was.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ALINA WOKE TO the sound of Demyan talking on the phone. He was speaking mainly in English but his sentences were peppered with Russian words and when he turned off the phone and sat on the edge of the bed, Alina had already worked out he’d been speaking with his son.

  ‘That was Roman,’ Demyan said.

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘He wants to meet. Probably for another row but better that than...’ He gave a tight shrug. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Alina said. ‘It’s good that he called.’

  Demyan gave a small nod and she found she was holding her breath, waiting for him to say something, to let her a little bit into that part of his life.

  ‘You’ll miss him...’ Alina attempted.

  Demyan didn’t answer.

  ‘Can I ask...?’ She didn’t even finish her sentence as his eyes told her that she couldn’t enquire about his son, about the reasons he wasn’t fighting to keep him. ‘You tell me to be myself.’ Alina looked at him. ‘Well, she has questions.’

  ‘Alina...’ Demyan actually wanted to tell her but how could he? It was the most dangerous secret and Demyan was doing everything he knew how to contain it.

  ‘Yes?’ She stared back at him. ‘You said my name. Alina. Generally it’s followed by something.’

  ‘Not this time.’ Demyan stood and went to kiss her but she moved her head.

  Last night had been the best night of her life yet this morning all that she felt was cheap.

  Alina tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t.

  She ordered breakfast but could only pick at it.

  Was she supposed to just lie here and wait? He wouldn’t come back, Alina was sure of it, and if he did—for what?

  Certainly not conversation.

  It was then that Libby called her with the news that an offer had been made on the penthouse, one so good that Alina didn’t have the authority to decline.

  ‘I’ll put it to Demyan,’ she said, and hung up the phone.

  It was over.

  She climbed out of bed and picked up her dress.

  Of course he’d torn it.

  Well, she wouldn’t be walking out with her breast exposed. She’d damn well ring down for some clothing to be sent and charge it to his bottomless pit.

  Alina headed to the shower and stood under the stream of water and started sobbing.

  She just stood there sobbing, not because of last night but because of tomorrow and the next day and then the next one.

  After Demyan.

  He let himself in and sat on the bed and heard her sobbing. Demyan put his head in his hands. Her tears did not distress him. After all Roman had just said, Alina’s sobs matched his mood.

  Every shudder from her lips felt like his head, every angry moan felt as if it was coming from him, but he remained silent.

  Under any other circumstance Alina would be mortified to have been caught so bitterly crying but as she stepped into the bedroom, though at first she was startled to see him sitting on the bed, as he looked up, his grief was so evident that there was no room for embarrassment.

  Fear had her running to him. For a second she actually thought his son must have died.

  ‘You are the only person I can discuss this with...’ His voice was hoarse. It was a shocking admission for him; he even hesitated now from revealing it.

  He never asked another for advice.

  Yet he wasn’t his mother—where his son was concerned, Demyan was not too proud to ask for help. Instead, he was strong enough to change and so he forced himself to continue.

  ‘You are the only person I feel can speak with. For the first time, I honestly don’t know what to do.’

  Oh.

  Life had been one constant surprise since she’d met Demyan but perhaps this was the biggest of them all.

  ‘Roman might not be mine.’

  Alina was wet from the shower, on his knee, trying to scramble, to shoot down fears, to give an instant solution. ‘He is.’

  ‘He might not be.’

  ‘There’s DNA.’

  ‘And then what?’ He tipped her from his knee and stood, almost appalled by his own revelation. Yet the words had finally been said and he turned to look at Alina, who was pulling on a dressing gown, trying to wrap her head around what he had told her.

  ‘Does Roman know?’ Alina asked.

  ‘No. This morning he asked why I am letting him go to Russia, why I don’t put up a fight. He thinks I don’t love him...’

  ‘Then you have to let him know that you do.’

  ‘If only it were that simple.’

  ‘Demyan, you’re involved, it could never be that simple,’ Alina said, and he knew then he had chosen wisely. He even managed a pale smile before explaining some more. ‘For a long time Nadia has wanted me to get back with her.’

  Alina tried to ignore the squeeze of fear to her heart as this was not about her.

  ‘When I refused to even discuss things she said she was marrying Vladimir and taking Roman to Russia to live. Of course I told her that would never happen. I don’t want him in Russia, his home is here...’ Demyan closed his eyes as dark memories swirled, there was nothing nice he could remember about his homeland.

  ‘I knew she was trying to make me jealous, I said that I would have a stop put on Roman’s passport and that I would contact Mikael. I said that I wanted my son to finish his schooling here, that when he was eighteen then he could make a decision but till then...’ Grey eyes were black now when they turned to Alina. ‘It was then that she told me there was a very good chance that Roman was not my son. To challenge her legally I would have to find out if Roman is mine.’

  ‘He already is.’

  Her simple statement halted him and Alina spoke on.

  ‘That’s never going to change. You were there when he was born, you told me you were, all the memories you’ve made, all those times you’ve shared can’t be erased by some test.’

  ‘Not for me,’ Demyan said. ‘But what if it changes things for Roman? I can’t stand to lose him.’

  ‘But you are already,’ Alina said. ‘In his eyes, you’re doing nothing and so this way you are.’

  Demyan could not stand it, there was no solution that he could see and his mind always sought a solution. He always controlled situations but now, when it mattered the most, he was shackled by the ghosts in the closet. Perhaps he hadn’t chosen so wisely, for Alina was suggesting that he let those ghosts of the past out.

  ‘I think you have to speak with him,’ Alina said. ‘I think he has to know the truth.’

  ‘You think, do you?’ Demyan was at his derisive best but she refused to be deterred.

  ‘Do you want my thoughts or not?’

  He did.

  ‘Not here,’ Demyan said. He was sick of hotels, they all looked the same, they all felt the same.

  He wanted home.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DEMYAN HAD NEVER taken advice on parenting.

  He did it at gut level.

  It was the reason he had never consulted lawyers during his divorce. Amazingly, neither had Nadia—she had
known she was getting an incredibly good deal.

  He had never paid much attention to the magazine articles written about him either, for Demyan had known, despite their suggestions otherwise, that he would be home for Christmas and all the things that mattered.

  That he listened to Alina was more of a compliment than she could possibly know.

  Even though he refuted the words that came from her lips, the fact that a discussion was taking place was a miracle in itself.

  They sent out for food, they drank wine, they argued and paced rooms and split hairs about the most precious detail.

  His son.

  And she found out that when Demyan loved, he loved for ever.

  ‘He leaves tomorrow, I can’t just walk up and say to him that he might not even be mine.’

  ‘I get that!’ Alina said. ‘I get that it’s going to hurt him...’ They’d come from Roman’s shrine of a bedroom and were upstairs in the master bedroom, Demyan staring out of the window, trying to wrestle his mind from resistance, and then he flinched as Alina told him her shame.

  He flinched for her, although he already knew.

  ‘It was my dad that I was trying to contact when I was on your computer. I sent him a friend request,’ Alina said. ‘He should have jumped to respond to me, he should have spent the last twenty-one years trying to be a part, even a small part of my life. You’re blocking Roman.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘That’s how he sees it. To him, you simply don’t care enough to fight.’

  Perhaps, Demyan conceded, but only in his mind.

  He needed to think, or rather not think for a while and let the thought simmer. The very idea that he might tell Roman the truth had felt like annihilation. Now, though...

  ‘Can you talk to Nadia?’ Alina asked.

  ‘We are so past talking.’ he said. ‘She’s counting on it, though. She will have something up her sleeve, you can be sure of it.’

  Alina had nothing up her sleeve—in fact, it was Demyan’s last card that she brought to the table now. ‘There’s been an offer on the penthouse, a good one. After you left this morning, Libby rang.’

  ‘I assume, given the buyers, it’s not subject to finance?’