He drew in a deep breath. “Yes,” he agreed softly.
“I’ll wake you at eight, when everyone else gets up.” She stepped back, out of his way, giving him room to move past her. After a moment, he did.
Francesca looked up. Roman and Koca were both watching her. She didn’t know what Koca’s expression meant. Roman’s interest was wiped from his face and he looked back at his screen.
Francesca’s cheeks heated. She told herself she had done nothing wrong.
The only person in the room who seemed to be completely disinterested was Rory. She was back to working on the model.
Francesca stepped out from behind the bank of desks and moved to the door. It meant sidling past Rory’s chair and once more, Francesca was reminded of her elegant clothes.
She hesitated. Then she gathered her courage. “I just wanted to say how much I like your shoes.”
Rory looked up at her. For a moment Francesca wondered if she was even really seeing her properly. Her gaze seemed to be focused right through her. Then Rory blinked and did look at her. “Thank you,” she said.
“You must get a lot of compliments from men for your dress, too.”
“Millions, most likely,” Roman said under his breath.
Rory glanced at Roman, then back to Francesca. “I do, although that isn’t why I wear the dress.”
“You don’t?” She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I wear the dress because I like it. It makes me feel good to wear something this beautiful. It pleases me.” She turned out one foot. “My shoes please me, too. So does my lingerie.”
Francesca blushed, her whole face glowing with the heat.
Roman grinned. “It just happens to please men as well.”
Francesca looked at him. “I thought you…I thought….” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Azarel seemed to shed a woman of her clothes at the first available moment, sometimes before the door to the pool house was even properly closed, which was how she knew his preference.
Koca was watching her with clear interest now, too.
“What did you think? That we like all women naked at all times?” Roman asked.
Her embarrassment was complete. She couldn’t possibly be more humiliated. So Francesca shrugged. “Don’t you?”
Roman nodded toward Rory. “Ask her. She knows.”
Rory was smiling. “Men like women naked,” she said gently. “They appreciate them clothed, too. They enjoy women all ways, at all times, but when a woman is wearing clothes, they can imagine what it would be like to take them off. If they see a hint of what lies beneath—a bra strap, bare flesh, a hint of a curve, they are instantly intrigued.”
Francesca glanced at Roman for confirmation. He smiled and one brow lifted, in an “I told you so” way.
“Although men are intrigued far too easily,” Rory added dismissively. “A stiff breeze will do it.”
“If it lifts a hem, it surely does,” Roman agreed.
“Which proves my point,” Rory finished. “Why dress to attract a man? They are beckoned, anyway. I dress to please myself first.”
“Maybe they are beckoned by someone like you,” Francesca said. “Me, they don’t see.”
Rory considered her, her eyes narrowing. “The right man will see you, Francesca. I guarantee it.”
No, he doesn’t. Only, Francesca wouldn’t say that aloud. Not ever.
Instead, she went back to the kitchen to make tea for Kate, before Kate returned to her table in the front room, to work on her movie with Garrett and Patrick, while the rest of the house slept on.
* * * * *
Dante always woke first, so when Sasha woke and found the bed empty, he wasn’t worried. The water was running in the attached bathroom, which told him where Dante was. It was dark outside. Another night had begun.
Sasha purposely didn’t think about the fact that a week had passed since Rory had capitulated. They had fallen into a routine that was comfortable, which should have scared the crap out of him. Routines were dangerous out in the field and an anathema to a man like him. They represented domesticity. Commitment to a way of life.
The water shut off and the door to the shower stall slid open.
Better to think about Dante’s hard body and what it could do to him. Or Rory’s endless curves and what they did to him. Or the way she fit between them almost perfectly.
Better to think of anything other than how much he liked this simple little life they had fallen into with no effort at all.
When the bathroom door opened, Sasha sat up. Dante came out, his skin damp and his black hair wet. He was naked. He glanced at Sasha and opened the top drawer in the bureau. Somewhere in the last week, that drawer had become Dante’s, just as the middle drawer was Sasha’s. Rory used the bottom two drawers.
Dante kept his back to Sasha as he dug through the drawer.
“Something wrong?” Sasha asked, trying to ignore the images Dante’s high, hard backside prompted.
Dante shook his head. “Nothing.”
Yet he still didn’t look at him.
Sasha kicked the covers aside and got to his feet. He came around the end of the bed. “Even in Russia, ‘nothing’ means ‘I am pissed’.”
Dante sighed and slammed the drawer shut. “Fine. It’s you, okay? You’re a freaking slob!”
Sasha stared at him, bewildered. “What?”
“Look at this.” Dante yanked out the second drawer and pointed at the jumble of clothes. “Nothing folded. No order. I don’t know how you find anything in here.”
Sasha shrugged. “It all goes back into the suitcase in the end.”
“And you left the bathroom a mess. You used my razor again. And look. Look at that.” Dante pointed at the cover on the bed.
Sasha turned to look. The cover lay on the carpet, where he had tossed it.
“Sane people leave the covers on the bed. You just stride through life, discarding everything once you’ve used it.”
Sasha ignored the heavy beat of his heart. This was serious. This wasn’t a hissy fit over toothbrushes at all. He narrowed his eyes, considering Dante. “I didn’t turn into an objectionable slob in the last four hours. So why is it now a problem?”
Dante’s gaze flickered away from him. “It’s always been a problem.”
“Only now you’re objecting.” Sasha crossed his arms.
“I should get dressed,” Dante muttered, turning back to the bureau.
Sasha got his arms uncrossed and reached for Dante’s arm. As soon as his fingers met his flesh, though, Dante rounded on him. “Don’t touch me!”
Sasha fell back, holding up his hands. He considered Dante, trying to find a clue that would tell him what this was really about. Angry people always gave themselves away. That was why he had learned to control his own temper, which could be legendary if he let it lose.
“You’re a fucking freak, you know that?” Dante demanded. “I’m pissed and yelling at you and you’re just looking at me with those eyes of yours!”
“You want me to yell back?”
“I want you just as pissed, yes!”
“Why?”
“Don’t be fucking stupid! You know how people tick. You know what normal is. We argue, you get pissed and walk out of here. It’s what non-freaks do!”
Sasha’s heart gave a little jump. “You want me to walk out of here?”
Dante whirled back to face the bureau. He put both hands on the front edge of it and lean against them, hanging his head. “No, of course not,” he said heavily.
There was the clue. He had given himself away and Dante didn’t even know it himself. “Why would you want me to walk away?” Sasha asked softly.
“I told you, I don’t want that!” Dante cried, standing up.
“Something in you does,” Sasha said slowly. “You picked a trivial fight, using the only thing you could think of to do it, something that hasn’t bothered you up until now, because you don’t know the real reason why you want me out
of here. You’re responding to instinct.”
Dante shook his head, his wet hair shaking off droplets. “I’m responding to your lack of discipline.”
“I have more than enough discipline where it counts,” Sasha assured him grimly. Why would Dante want him out of the way? Rory.
Ahh….
Sasha drew in a breath, drawing it past the restriction in his throat. “You want Rory to yourself, now you have her at last.”
Dante actually grew pale. His throat worked.
Sasha shook his head, even though Dante had not spoken. “You’ve loved her for years and waited all that time. Me…I’m the interloper. I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize that for myself. You like me, but you love her.”
Dante buried his face in his hands. He was trembling. “God, you’re right. I didn’t…I don’t want you to go. I really don’t.”
“It’s an older instinct that’s driving you, that’s all,” Sasha told him. “Here’s the thing, Dante.” He gripped his wrists and pulled his hands away and peered into his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that if you’re still working on old instincts then so is Rory. Neither of you can let down your guard and that means that you still need me.”
Dante’s throat worked. His eyes were filled with pain. “I need you anyway,” he said softly. “Fuck instincts.”
“Rory’s instincts, Dante. Has it occurred to you that you couldn’t have her if I wasn’t here, too?”
He didn’t think it was possible for Dante to grow even more pale, yet he did. He looked almost sick. “No,” he whispered.
Denial.
Sasha gave him a small smile. “I make you safe, for her. Rory probably hasn’t thought it through consciously, although she’s a master at recognizing patterns and systems and buried in the back of her mind is the knowledge that I will be leaving, eventually, which will end this, whatever this is.” He grimaced. “I’m her get out of jail free card.”
Dante flinched, his shoulders shifting with the violence of it. “You’re leaving.”
Sasha sighed. “Not yet.”
“But soon? Someday? You’re not planning on sticking around, are you?” Dante’s tone was bitter. “When you go, so does she.”
Something shifted in Sasha’s belly, making him feel almost dizzy. His heart was working far too hard and that wasn’t helping. He clenched his fists, fighting it and fighting the need to go for the easy lie. It would be simple enough to say he wasn’t leaving, to give Dante what he wanted to hear. He lied all the time. He could say it with a straight face and he could make Dante believe him.
The words wouldn’t come.
Sasha sighed. “I don’t know what will happen,” he said weakly. Honestly.
Dante grew still. “You don’t know,” he repeated, almost breathlessly.
Sasha threw out his hand. “No, I don’t know! You think I don’t understand where I fit into this? As soon as Rory realizes she can have you without me in the picture, when she understands that it’s safe to love you, she will kick me back to Russia. I’m not a fool.” Now he was the one to sound bitter. “You’ve already tried to do it. It was just premature. Later on, you’ll try again. Next time, you’ll succeed.”
Dante slapped the bureau. “No. You’re wrong. It would be like cutting off this hand just so I can take with the other.”
“You’ll do it. It’s Rory you really love.”
Dante took Sasha’s face in his hands. “I need you, too.”
“For a while longer, yes, you do.” Sasha gripped his wrists. “It won’t last. I don’t know how long it will take. I won’t stay here and wait for that to happen. You should know that.”
“You don’t know what will happen. You just said that,” Dante said. His voice was hoarse.
“Not for sure, but I know it’s coming,” Sasha said bleakly.
Dante rested his head against Sasha’s. “Pessimistic Russian. How can I talk you out of this?”
Sasha couldn’t speak that truth. It wasn’t his beliefs Dante was fighting. It was love, the most powerful emotion in the universe. Sasha had seen its power more than once. He had used it coldly and deliberately, to seduce informants and get them to sell out their country for the sake of it.
It was an overwhelming force that Sasha knew he couldn’t defeat.
So instead of giving Dante the truth, Sasha deflected him. “You could try fucking me out of it, I suppose.” He kissed him before Dante could see through the clumsy misdirection. He could speak the truth with his mouth and his body and that would pacify Dante.
For now. Now was all he had, though. For now, it would have to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“The thing you have to understand about Sasha is that he’s the most disciplined man I’ve ever known,” Marcus said softly. “That’s when he’s working.”
Dante nodded. “He said that, himself.”
One of the doors to the conservatory opened and both of them looked around guiltily. Francesca stepped through and shut the door behind her.
For the first time that year, the temperatures had fallen below sizzling, which was why the doors were closed. It was late September and everyone was inside, complaining about the coolness, which was why the two of them had gravitated without discussion to where no one else would be, which was the table next to the swimming pool.
There were leaves floating on the top of the pool, giving it a forlorn look.
Dante studied Francesca, trying to figure out what was different about her. Then he realized she wasn’t wearing the simple skirt and blouse she was nearly always in. The dress she was wearing was something only women understood how to put on. It wrapped around Francesca’s middle, showing off a surprisingly small waist, generous hips and high, small breasts.
Even her shoes were something other than the flat, workmanlike black leather she had been wearing. They weren’t as high as some of the shoes Rory preferred, although they weren’t flat, either. They were slender and neat and feminine.
“Wow,” Dante breathed, low enough that Francesca wouldn’t hear him as she made her way around the edge of the pool. She was heading toward the pool house. Of course.
“Very interesting,” Marcus agreed. “I wonder if Dominic has seen his sister today?”
Dante grinned. “We’d have heard it, if he had.”
Marcus frowned. “Where was I?”
“Sasha’s legendary discipline, which neither Rory nor I have yet to notice.”
Marcus smiled. “Funny you should put it like that. Because he is.”
“Disciplined?”
“The spy world is a funny business. We all work covertly. We don’t leave lingering impressions. We work best when we can slip in and out quietly, our influence undetected. Yet among field agents, everyone knows about everyone else. We know reputations and code names and histories, even if we don’t know what the agent’s face looks like. I had heard stories about The Russian years before I met Sasha and I’d known him for two years before I knew he was the one called The Russian.”
Dante sat back, floored. “You’re saying he really is legendary?”
Marcus nodded. “He’s that good,” he said softly. “I’m no slouch, but he puts me to shame. He can get in and out of countries like we open and close doors. He can talk anyone into anything.” Marcus’ mouth twitched up slightly. “You’ve probably experienced that for yourself.”
“I don’t think he lies to me at all,” Dante said. “I know he won’t lie to Rory. He just refuses to. He’ll step sideways. I’ve even seen him distract her right off the subject by…well….”
“Yeah, I get the idea,” Marcus said heavily. “He doesn’t lie to you at all? Really?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t until you said it just now that I realized he doesn’t because it’s normal behavior for anyone else. I guess the intelligence business breeds liars, doesn’t it?”
“Or attracts them,” Marcus said with a grimace. He was still staring at Dante. “He doesn’t lie at all….” he sa
id softly, then shook his head. “Why don’t you get to the question that made you pull me out here?”
Dante could feel his caution rising. “I still don’t know if this is a good idea, talking to you. You two are close—”
“We were going to be brothers-in-law,” Marcus said. “Long story. Go on.”
Dante sighed. “Is it true that once you’re a spy, you’re stuck with it?”
Marcus sat back. “It’s not a profession for those who want to retire and live a long healthy life. It’s one of the toughest things you can do, mentally, especially if you’re under cover. It takes a toll. Despite all that, some people thrive and Sasha is one of them. He has unique mental strength. However, if he suddenly decided to take up bee keeping on the Sussex Downs, I think most people would try to abide by his wishes. The trouble is what he’s carrying up here.” Marcus tapped his temple. “We know stuff. Mostly stuff that other countries don’t like us knowing. It’s all officially secret, only it’s there in our noggins and sometimes, people want to dig that out. So they come calling, years after retirement.” Marcus shrugged. “I’m technically out, but I’m really not because I have access to information the FBI finds useful. So I still get a call every now and again.”
“They’re running you, now?”
“I guess, yeah.” Marcus shrugged. “I’m not giving you the answers you want. I can tell by your long face.”
“I suppose because I’m not asking the question directly. I feel guilty enough about even talking to you behind his back.”
“So ask the direct question, get it over with and go back to him,” Marcus suggested.
Dante nodded. “Is there any way to make Sasha want to stay with us?”
Marcus blew out a gusty breath. “There’s the crux, huh?”
“You say spies don’t leave the business and I don’t think he really wants to, even if he did want to stay here. He seems to think we don’t want him and that’s not part of this, anyway,” he added hastily as Marcus opened his mouth. “If Sasha asked, I’d go to Russia. Rory can’t, though. The GRU would dump her in one of their interview rooms and keep her there as soon as she stepped across the border.”
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