by Bella Rose
“Very posh,” she said in a teasing tone. “Nothing says class like a French chef.”
“That does seem to be the world perception. No?”
Trisha could not suppress her curiosity. “Do you own other hotels?”
“Da,” he said. Until now, they had been conversing in English. He was exceptionally fluent, although some of the idioms still seemed a mystery to his comprehension. Now he switched to Russian. “I own hotels all over the world. Here in Russian I have two in Moscow. One in Saint Petersburg, and two resort spas in Siberia.”
“What is it with Siberia?” Trisha could not suppress her giggle. “In America we think of it as this desolate place where people are sent as some form of punishment.”
“In actuality, it is quite beautiful and much more populated than it was at one time.”
Trisha sobered. She thought of Minka. Her friend was likely worried sick, and here Trisha was laughing and flirting as she ate a salmon dinner with a criminal who was holding her prisoner.
“What is wrong, poppet?” His gentle question was completely incongruent with the heartless picture she had painted of him in her head.
Gazing at him in the soft glow of the carriage lamps set into the terrace’s brick wall, she tried to reconcile the two masks of Anatoly Zaretsky. There was the stoic and powerful leader of an organization she could barely imagine. Then there was also the laughing man who sat before her. He was a guy who could have easily picked her up in a bar or a club, or even the grocery store. He was charming, witty, a great conversationalist, and strangely sensitive all at the same time.
“I don’t understand,” Trisha said at last. “You seem like a super nice guy.”
“Perhaps I am a super nice guy.” He sat back in his chair, twirling his wineglass by its stem.
“If that’s true,” she said slowly, fully aware that she was about to walk into a verbal minefield. “Then why not let me go home tomorrow?”
ANATOLY’S MIND DISMISSED that possibility before she was done suggesting it. Why would she even ask such a thing? It was ludicrous! Let her go? Why? So she could fly a million miles away and deprive him of this strange and wonderful feeling of normalcy?
No. It was time to turn this around on her. “Why would you want to go? You seem to be enjoying yourself. I can tell from your conversation that you have enjoyed your stay in Moscow. In fact, you seem bored with your life at home anyway. Why not just appreciate the opportunity I have provided you?”
“Opportunity?”
The flat tone of her voice should have been the first indicator that this was about to take a turn for the worse.
Still, Anatoly pressed forward. “Yes. I have given you a rare opportunity to live in complete luxury while on an extended vacation in a country that you love. I am in a position to show you far more than any mere tour could provide. We shall tour the museums, visit historic places, and even take a short trip to one of my spas if you wish.”
“Vacation.” She was actually sputtering. Her cheeks were turning red, and he watched in fascinated horror as the flush spread down her neck to her chest. Even the creamy tops of her full, round breasts were a pale shade of pink. “You think I should just be happy to have my independence taken away and appreciate the opportunity of taking a vacation with my jailer?”
Trisha shot to her feet so quickly that her chair flipped over backward. She stumbled away from the table, tripping in her kitten heels. She marched stiffly toward the railing of the terrace. The big stone pillars were fairly solid, but Anatoly could not help but wonder if in her current state she might actually be capable of ripping them off their foundations.
“I was right earlier,” she snarled. “You are so off your meds! What would ever possess me to want to vacation with a man who just accused me of cheating his casino all in some weird bid to make me his pet?”
He could see her point, of course, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Standing up, he closed the distance between them in a few long strides. She drew back almost as if she were afraid of physical retribution for her words.
That made him angry. When had he ever shown any inclination to hurt her in such a way? Had someone else hurt her like that? The idea made his blood boil. He would show her that he had no intention to harm. In fact, his inclinations ran quite the opposite.
Grabbing her about the waist, he pulled her close. The feel of her curves against his body was exquisite. He nearly groaned aloud at the pleasurable sensations that whipped through his senses. Before she had time to process what was happening or push him away, Anatoly put his lips on hers and took her mouth in a deep kiss of total domination.
HE WAS KISSING her, and Trisha didn’t even have the wherewithal to stop him. What the hell was the matter with her? But he tasted so good! How could he taste so good? She twined her arms around his neck and touched the silkiness of his hair with her fingertips.
Anatoly’s lips were beyond soft. She sighed, giving a tiny moan. He took advantage of her muddled state. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he rubbed it alongside hers. Trisha was shocked to feel a spurt of moisture between her legs. In fact, she was positively melting below her belly button. Everything down there was in flames. She squirmed a little, the movement pressing her breasts even more firmly against his chest. He held her closer, and her nipples beaded into hard points.
The friction was to die for. The fabric of her satin bra, of her dress, and his shirt against her sensitized breasts made her almost mad with desire. She felt his hands slide down to cup her ass. He gave her a little squeeze, and she moaned once again. Her body was responding to him in ways she had never experienced with anyone else. Her list of lovers wasn’t long, but she’d never been with anyone like Anatoly Zaretsky.
The thought was like a cold bucket of water thrown in her face. What was she doing?
Wrenching away from Anatoly, she took a step back and tried to find her perspective. Or maybe she was looking for her good sense, because that seemed to have completely gone by the wayside.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was so soft, coaxing almost.
She slammed the door on her desire and forced herself to take a mental step back. “This is wrong.”
“How so?”
He looked so damn handsome. His lips were full, his hair mussed from her fingers, and his eyes bright with lust. She could see the passion in him. Maybe that was the problem? She’d never seen anything like it with any other man. How could someone so cold and calculating also be so in touch with—well, with this? The desire was rolling off him in waves. She felt wanted for the first time in forever.
“I’m going back to my room,” she muttered.
Turning on her heel, she marched to the sliding glass door and flung it open. Inside. Down the hall. The beefcakes were still standing in front of her doorway. She didn’t suppress the urge to flip them off this time. She gave each guy the finger, completely nonplussed when the only response she got was to see the corner of each of their mouths turn up with amusement.
Into her room she went, and she slammed the door closed on the whole night. She would go to bed, and in the morning she would remember that Anatoly Zaretsky was her enemy. No matter what her body seemed inclined to think.
ANATOLY FELT DISAPPOINTMENT mingle with satisfaction until he was smiling to himself out on the terrace. He had gotten beneath her skin, all right. In fact, he knew more about Trisha than she seemed to know about herself. The woman was passion incarnate. The first time he had seen her in the casino that night, he had known she would be a temptress in bed for the man who was willing to take his time getting her there. That just left him with the necessity of playing the game until he convinced her to give in to what she really wanted anyway.
“Sir?” Yakov’s voice drew Anatoly from his reverie.
Turning, he raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“The chief of police is here to see you as you requested.”
“Thank you. Show him out.”
“Out here?” Yako
v raised a brow.
This was the second time the man had seemed to question a slight deviation from the normal routine. Was Anatoly really that predictable? If so, he was going to have to work on that a bit.
“Yes,” Anatoly said with thinly veiled exasperation. “That’s what I said, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Yakov dipped his head in respect and disappeared.
Moments later, the chief of police arrived on the balcony. Yakov slid the doors shut, and Anatoly turned to face the man who had become nothing but a lackey in the four years he had held his office.
“I have a request,” Anatoly said slowly. “I have a woman here whom I found in my casino.”
“Yes.” Chief Polzin gave a curt nod. “I have already received phone calls from her parents.”
Anatoly felt his eyebrows begin to rise in shock and quickly schooled his face to blandness. “And your response?”
“I reminded them that as a visitor to our country, she is subject to all the laws herein.” Polzin looked mildly uncomfortable. “Her father is a very determined man, Mr. Zaretsky. I would imagine he could prove quite stubborn if you choose to hold the woman much longer.”
“I will hold her as long as I want,” Anatoly said firmly. “Or as long as she holds my attention, I suppose.”
Polzin nodded. “As you wish.”
“You will tell her father and her embassy that she is being held by the mafia until she can make restitution for her crimes.” There. That sounded reasonable, didn’t it? Although truthfully Anatoly cared little for whether he was being reasonable. He had decided that he wanted Trisha Copeland. He did not care what barriers there were between him and his desires. He would get what he wanted in much the same way he always did.
“That will be all,” Anatoly said, dismissing Polzin with a wave of his hand.
“If I might caution you.”
Anatoly whipped around, shocked by the chief’s boldness. “Caution me?”
“Yes, sir.” Polzin fidgeted. “These Americans can prove to be quite a nuisance. I only suggest caution, sir.”
“You can suggest it, Polzin.” Anatoly’s tone was frigid. “But I will do as I see fit.”
“Of course.”
Polzin left, and Anatoly was alone with his thoughts. Her father was an ocean away. How much trouble could the man really cause?
Chapter Five
Trisha pressed her back against the carved headboard and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees and sighed. Only a sliver of light peeked through the thick curtains to alleviate the darkness in her room. It felt oppressive, which was appropriate.
She was disgusted with herself. In fact, she felt ashamed of her behavior. Why had she fallen so thoroughly under Anatoly’s spell? That wasn’t like her. She needed to get out of here and get home.
Exhaling slowly, Trisha crawled off the bed. She stood up and straightened her spine. Cowering here in this gilded prison was no longer an option. She was done being timid. It was time to take her destiny in hand and make a choice.
Wishing for some real clothing, Trisha pressed her back to the wall beside the doorway. She held her breath. There was no noise on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t be certain there was no guard posted. She gathered her courage and turned the knob. There was a moment of complete shock when it actually turned. It made no sense for him to shut her inside and then make no effort to keep her there. Maybe he’d grown lax, or thought she didn’t have the courage to escape.
The hallway was deserted. Moonlight spilled through the windows and bathed the wood floor in pale blue light. She looked for the beefcakes, but the apartment appeared to be deserted. There was no hint of movement and not a sound to be heard. She walked carefully, carrying her heels and placing her bare feet flat on the floor.
She followed a half remembered route in her mind. She hadn’t paid enough attention when she had entered the apartment with her friends as this had all began. It felt like a million years ago, but in reality it had only been earlier that very afternoon.
The front door loomed ahead. Trisha quickened her pace, feeling eager. Yet when she placed her hand on the ornate door pull, she drew back. Her gut was roiling with anxiety, and her heart was pounding so fast that it was barely a flutter behind her breastbone. This was entirely too easy. There had to be a catch.
She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to grab the door even though her hand was shaking.
But in that moment she was forced to confront a very important question: What was it that she was running back to?
IN THE DARKNESS of the foyer that sat between the front door of his penthouse and the elevator, Anatoly waited for Trisha to exit the apartment. He had no doubt that she would appear at any moment. He had left the opportunity wide open just to see what would happen. Yet as time wore on and the hour grew first later, and then earlier, he began to believe that she had somehow managed to scale the outside of the building and escape that way.
Panic overtook him. Anatoly leaped up from his chair. In his haste, he toppled an antique table that sat in the center of the space. The table tilted at a crazy angle, the vase on top sliding over the edge. Anatoly reached out to snatch it up and missed.
The sound of porcelain shattering against marble was deafening in the small foyer space. The noise echoed off the ceiling and ricocheted from the walls like gunfire. The motion sensors flickered in the darkness. Seconds later, the alarm went off. Boots thundered down the hallway on the other side of his front door.
Anatoly barely had time to catch his breath before the front door slammed open. Yakov appeared, his gun pointing straight at Anatoly’s face.
“Sir?” Yakov lowered his weapon, motioning for Sergei to do the same. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Anatoly was more annoyed with himself than his men. He was acting ridiculous. Yet he had truly expected Trisha to attempt an escape this night. He had left her completely unguarded behind an unlocked door just for that reason. He had wanted her to see how futile escape was even when it appeared possible.
Now Anatoly was left to wonder if she’d managed to double cross him.
He remembered the initial errand that had ended in the broken vase. Pointing to the mess, he spoke to Yakov. “Call someone to clean this up please?”
“Of course, sir.” Yakov frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
But Anatoly didn’t answer. He was already on his way down the hallway toward Trisha’s room. He flung open her door without even knocking and flipped the wall switch.
She sat straight up in the bed, blinking owlishly at the overhead light flooding the room.
“What are you doing?” She actually yawned.
He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Why are you still here?”
“Because you’re holding me prisoner, remember?” She looked confused. “Are you drunk?”
Anatoly shook off his anxiety and tried to remember that he was supposed to be calm and in control of his emotions. He examined his nails, trying to affect a bored attitude. “I expected you to attempt to run.”
“Where would I go?”
He had no ready answer for that one. Anything he said had the potential to aid in her fabricating an escape plan.
So he didn’t answer, posing another question instead. “Why would you not attempt to go home tomorrow?”
“Perhaps I’ve changed my mind,” she said stiffly. “I’m female. It happens.”
Shock made him lightheaded. “Changed your mind? About going back to the States?”
“Not that.” She waved her hand almost airily. “I’ve just changed my mind about going home.”
TRISHA DID NOT want to say any more. She would have been giving too much away. Instead, she tried not to focus on the delectable way he looked with his tousled hair, dress shirt hanging half open with the buttons undone, and his slacks with bare feet. The man was absolutely
edible. But it was also obvious that he wasn’t going to just walk away and respect her privacy after she’d dropped such an abrupt bomb on his head.
“You don’t want to go home?” he asked incredulously. “What happened to your assertion that your father was a stubborn man who would never give up looking for you?”
“I wasn’t lying about that.” She decided there was no reason not to be forthcoming about that particular hazard. “He will be the biggest pain in your ass. Seriously.”
“Strange, but that’s the second time in one day that I’ve heard those words applied to your father.” He seemed amused more than irritated. Good.
“Perhaps he’s also a pain in my ass,” she suggested with caution.
Something seemed to click in Anatoly’s expression. He stilled, his hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides. “Are you saying that your father touches you in anger?”
“Oh no!” she said quickly, realizing her mistake. “No, definitely not. I’m sorry. I never meant to give you that impression.” Trisha struggled to explain. “My father loves me. He just loves me a little too much and a little too seriously.”
“Overprotective?”
She bobbed her head in agreement. “Very. I wanted to study abroad just to get away for a while.”
“And now?”
“And now, I don’t know.” Trisha was uncomfortable with this conversation. Why was she discussing her future plans with the man who had taken her captive against her will? Oh wait. Because if she was smart, she could use him to get what she wanted. “You’re offering me a way to stay here. I don’t know what comes after that. I’ll have to play it by ear.”
He said something in Russian that she didn’t quite catch. Then he chuckled. “You are a very interesting woman, Trisha Copeland. By the time I think I have you figured out, you change and I feel I must start over.”
“Good. I would hate to become predictable.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. This was incredibly odd. She was lying in bed while still wearing her dress. And she had no idea if Anatoly knew that she had come very close to trying to leave his penthouse.