by Lynne Graham
He should bail out now, Sergei acknowledged grittily. Unfortunately he found her hugely attractive and that advantage would be almost impossible to find elsewhere. An overlong procession of greedy, cunning lovers had made Sergei exceedingly choosy about the women he took to his bed. It was ironic that even though Alissa had infuriated him she had also ignited a stronger level of pure driven lust in him than he had experienced in over a decade.
Alissa had also resurrected his appetite for risk. So what if he was taking a chance on her? He pictured her in her little black dress, firm breasts rising above the scooped neckline in a tantalisingly voluptuous display as she spun on the dance floor, revealing glimpses of her slender thighs. His body reacted with maddening enthusiasm to the image. He had liked that dress but it would have shocked Yelena. The outfit had been too revealing for anything other than private consumption. He would have to take her shopping to ensure that she acquired more sedate clothing, while also ensuring that some day soon she would put on that dress especially for him so that he could strip it off and enjoy the delights of the body that lay underneath.
If he was so hot to taste this forbidden fruit he had to take the risk of marrying her. Such powerful desire demanded and deserved satisfaction. He was willing to sacrifice his freedom and marry to please his grandmother, but he saw no reason why he shouldn’t make every effort to ensure it was, at least, a pleasurable and entertaining experience.
Alissa wakened with a start when her shoulder was roughly shaken. A phone was ringing and she sat up on the sofa, where she had spent a most uncomfortable night, and looked woozily at Alexa, who was extending her diamond-studded phone.
‘Answer it, for goodness’ sake!’ her twin urged. ‘I can’t answer it for you. It’s sure to be him and it’s safer if he doesn’t know I exist.’
Alissa answered the phone.
‘I want to take you shopping,’ Sergei announced without any preliminary greetings. ‘I’ll pick you up at ten.’
And that was that. It was not a request, but an order. As she shared both that opinion and the outing mentioned with her sister Alissa studied the phone with disfavour, convinced that it was more of a convenient command line for Sergei than a gift.
‘Of course he’s going to be bossy!’ Alexa snapped crossly. ‘He didn’t make all that lovely cash by acting like a wimp. He’s rich and powerful and he knows what he wants and when he wants it.’
‘I haven’t got much time. I’d better get dressed.’
Alexa released a heavy sigh of irritation. ‘And I can’t trust you to do it on your own.’
Her sister’s annoyance permeated the atmosphere as she insisted on putting together an outfit for Alissa to wear.
‘What is really wrong?’ Alissa pressed anxiously.
‘I feel like you’re stealing my life,’ Alexa confided, shocking her twin with that accusing statement. ‘A billionaire is taking you shopping and it should have been me!’
Alissa gave her aggrieved sister a troubled appraisal. ‘You’re going to marry Harry soon. He loves you and you love him and you have a baby to look forward to. Everything with Sergei is fake and it won’t last,’ she reminded her.
‘When I look at a photo of Sergei Antonovich I’m still jealous,’ Alexa said tightly. ‘And I’m not used to being jealous of you. What man ever looked at you when I was around? I’ve always been the prettier, more popular twin.’
The bell buzzed. Alissa was tense, hurt and nonplussed at her sister’s admission. Alissa longed to suggest that Alexa take her place but, of course, that option was no longer possible. Borya accompanied Alissa downstairs. She was lost in her thoughts, acknowledging that it was true that Alexa had always enjoyed the status of being the more attractive of the two of them. She was thinner and wittier, always beautifully groomed and she drew men like bees to a honeypot. What was true now had also been true, more painfully so, in their adolescence.
Alissa winced at the secret knowledge that she had once fallen hard for their neighbour, Peter, but had never truly existed for him except as Alexa’s sister and a friend. She had gone through agonies of guilt where Peter had been concerned, because she had known that loving her sister’s boyfriend was disloyal and shameful. As a result, she had never told anyone how she’d felt about Peter, not even when Alexa had deceived him with other men, revelling in the other opportunities and passing flirtations that came her way. Alexa had always had a somewhat elastic approach to fidelity, for she had reserved the right to be outraged when their father had gone off with another woman.
Alissa’s train of thought was derailed with startling abruptness when she first caught sight of Sergei ensconced in the back seat of the opulent limousine. He was even bigger, darker and more gorgeous than she remembered. One glance and her mouth ran dry and a flock of butterflies broke loose in her tummy.
‘Alissa.’ Sergei scanned her with laser-bright dark golden eyes that missed nothing. She looked tense and miserable, which could only irritate a man accustomed to female smiles and gushing appreciation. She was dressed in yet another mistake, he noted, watching with unashamedly hypocritical male appreciation while she endeavoured to take a seat in a short tight skirt and high-heeled boots without showing him her undergarments. But, mood and wardrobe errors aside, she still looked fabulous. He was already trying to pin down exactly what he found so irresistible about her.
Was it those big aquamarine eyes that, according to the light, went from the sea-blue to mysterious, deep forest-green? The delicacy of her bone structure? The exceptionally feminine appeal of her tiny fragile proportions? Those delightfully unexpected curves?
‘Why are we going shopping?’ she asked.
‘You have a final fitting for your wedding dress…and I believe we should also take the opportunity to extend your wardrobe.’
Alexa had already had dress fittings? Why on earth had her twin failed to warn her of that fact? The prospect of trying on a wedding dress intimidated Alissa, while Sergei’s concluding comment simply surprised her. ‘But why do I need more clothes?’
‘Those you wear are too revealing,’ Sergei informed her bluntly.
Her face flamed as though he had turned a blowtorch on her and her fingernails dug crescents into the skin of her palms as she swallowed back a tart response. She could easily have agreed the point and it annoyed her that she could not shrug off responsibility for the outfits he had so far seen her in. Her full curves at breast and hip made fitted tops and short skirts seem much more daring than Alexa’s ethereal slenderness ever had.
Sergei shifted an expressive hand. ‘You look very sexy but I want a more upmarket conservative image for my wife.’
Thirty minutes later, Alissa underwent one of the most mortifying experiences of her life as the designer and her assistants endeavoured without success to get a toile—a sort of understudy to a real bridal gown—to fasten on her.
‘I think I may have put on a little weight,’ Alissa said tightly as their combined efforts to cram her into the too small garment were constricting her lungs.
As that confession was made the toile went slack again and her attendants backed off. An uneasy silence fell.
‘I’ll take your measurements again, if I may?’ the designer asked with commendable brightness.
Red-faced with embarrassment and feeling the size of a heifer, Alissa withstood being measured and could not avoid seeing the designer’s mounting anguish as the numbers expanded.
‘Don’t worry,’ the older woman finally murmured with rigid calm. ‘The dress will be altered in time for the ceremony.’
Alissa guessed that the lack of open lamentation was down to the small fortune that Sergei was undoubtedly paying for the gown. But she was mortified by her companions’ astonishment. After all, brides usually got thinner before their weddings.
‘That took a long time,’ Sergei remarked when she rejoined him. He cast aside his copy of The Financial Times with a strong suggestion of relief.
‘The dress will have to
be altered,’ she admitted.
Sergei frowned, black brows pleating in surprise. ‘You’ve lost weight?’
Biting at her lower lip, Alissa said the only thing she felt she could say in the circumstances. ‘No, I’ve put it on. I’ll have to starve from now on—’
‘Not while you’re with me, milaya moya,’ Sergei quipped. ‘I won’t allow you to shrink your assets.’
It was impossible not to notice his downward glance that paid homage to the swell of her breasts beneath the sweater she wore. In receipt of that all-too-male look of appreciation, Alissa went so red she was vaguely surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust. ‘I like food too much, particularly chocolate,’ she heard herself respond inanely while she strove valiantly to ignore the sexual spark in the atmosphere.
It was a novelty for Sergei to be with a woman who admitted to enjoying food. He was more accustomed to ladies who demanded the calorie count of a dish before they would even consider eating.
Back in the limo, Alissa wondered how on earth he managed to make her so painfully aware of him as a man. Or was she oversensitive to his potent male aura? Whatever, she was conscious of every breath he drew.
In yet another exclusive designer salon they were served with champagne while a large collection of clothes was presented for scrutiny. Alissa tried on a scarlet dress and jacket. It was a perfect fit and very much more conventional in style than anything her sister would have chosen. Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she emerged from the cubicle to let Sergei see it. He, she was starting to appreciate, liked to be in charge more than was good for him or her.
‘I like that,’ he breathed in sudden amusement. ‘Add some fur and you could be a very cute female Santa Claus…’
‘No fur, please,’ she replied, then queried, ‘Do you have Santa Claus in Russia?’
‘Ded Moroz…Grandfather Frost, and he comes in the New Year with a female sidekick called the Snowmaiden,’ Sergei told her. ‘But you can celebrate Christmas any way you want while you’re with me. I didn’t even know the festival existed until I went to live with my grandmother.’
While you’re with me; a subtle little reminder that she would be a temporary wife rather than a real one, Alissa assumed. Christmas was only seven weeks away. Where would she be living then? Feeling extraordinarily vulnerable, she stood still while his smouldering dark eyes raked over her. An inner glow spread through her pelvis, tightening her tummy muscles and leaving her insanely aware of his raw sexual power.
At his behest, she tried on outfit after outfit. Half the time he was on the phone, delivering terse commands in his own language, but the whole time his attention seemed to be on her. It bothered her that she got a thrill out of his obvious interest and she had to resist a shameful urge to preen and pose. It was becoming harder and harder for her to view their approaching marriage as just a job, since he was personalising everything. An hour after their arrival, a package was delivered to him by his chauffeur.
Alissa made her final appearance in an opulent full length turquoise silk evening gown.
One glance at her and the exquisite pain of rampant sexual arousal assailed Sergei in a tidal wave. The fabric cupping her breasts was too fine to conceal her nipples which protruded like ripe cherries. Expelling his breath in a slow hiss of restraint, he sprang upright and signalled her.
‘Come here,’ he told her when she stopped a few feet away from him.
With care, Sergei employed a tissue to wipe her lips clear of tinted gloss. ‘Less is more,’ he murmured in a roughened undertone.
Alissa gazed up at him wide-eyed and was ludicrously unprepared for the kiss that followed. Long fingers meshing with her hair, he pried her lips apart and took her mouth with erotic force. His hunger exploded through her and her head spun and her stomach lurched with excitement as if she were on a fairground ride. The tight knot in her tummy clenched hard and with every fibre of her being she craved more intimate contact.
‘Right moment, wrong place, milaya,’ Sergei quipped, setting her back from him, and she almost screamed and stamped her foot with frustration. While he called every shot and maintained supremacy, he also made her feel controlled and helpless. Nothing, it seemed, took the edge off her intense craving for him. ‘Open your mouth.’
‘Why?’ she framed stonily, annoyed that he had kissed her again and left her feeling things she barely understood and certainly didn’t want to feel. Her body was humming and all churned up in a very uncomfortable way.
‘You can’t have me right now but you can have…this,’ he murmured playfully, sliding a chocolate between her lips.
The meltingly rich taste of chocolate reached Alissa’s taste buds in a gastronomic tide of sensation. It tasted so good, she almost closed her eyes to savour it in full. ‘That is to die for,’ she whispered.
Sergei got an erotic buzz just watching her. She was a wonderfully sensual woman and she could wind him up like a clock. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and take her somewhere private where he could sink deep and hard and repeatedly into her lush little body until he had satisfied the fierce hunger he was restraining with such difficulty. But on another level he was enjoying that unusual edge of anticipation driven by a level of moderation he had never practised before.
Somewhere close by a phone rang insistently. Alissa broke free of the spell holding her in stasis. ‘That’s mine.’
One of the assistants brought her the mobile phone from the changing room. It was Alexa calling, words gushing from her in a breathless tide. ‘Mum’s found out that you’re marrying Sergei next week. One of her friends brought in a newspaper with a picture of you together. She’s in deep shock—’
‘Oh, my word,’ Alissa exclaimed in consternation, uneasily conscious of Sergei’s proximity. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘Well, that you’d been seeing Sergei when you were still working in London but that it hadn’t worked out and that’s why you never mentioned him,’ Alexa explained. ‘And now he’s back and it’s all on again. What else could I say?’
‘This just goes on getting more and more complicated,’ Alissa lamented.
‘What’s going on?’ Sergei demanded, and one glance at his lean, taut features was sufficient to tell her how much he hated being left out of the loop on any issue.
‘My mother saw a photo of us together in a newspaper and she’s in shock—’
‘Is that her you’re speaking to? No?’ he queried. ‘Then get her on the phone so that I can speak to her.’
And although Alissa tried to argue with him, nothing else would satisfy him. Alissa dialled the number of her home and broke through her mother’s anxious and reproachful questions to ask her to speak to Sergei. Sergei then took the phone from her damp grasp and proceeded to stun Alissa by selling himself as the perfect son-in-law, who couldn’t wait to meet his future mother-in-law. While Alissa hovered, taut with growing incredulity and resentment at the ease with which he dealt with the situation, he insisted he would send a car to pick her parent up and ferry her back to London to dine with them that same evening.
When he had finished talking, he passed the phone back to Alissa.
‘I do understand why you got swept away by him,’ Jenny Bartlett told her daughter in a dazed voice. ‘Sergei really does know what he wants, doesn’t he? I can’t wait to meet him, darling.’
‘I seem to recall that your parents are getting a divorce,’ Sergei remarked when the call had finished.
‘Yes,’ Alissa confirmed with a flat lack of expression, shying away from that controversial subject while dimly also wondering why he had never known about Christmas until he went to live with his grandmother. Had his parents died? What age had he been? She decided it was no business of hers and that if she wanted to survive their fake marriage she had to learn to keep a sensible distance from him.
She didn’t go back to Alexa’s flat that evening. Meanwhile, Sergei dropped her off at his indescribably chic apartment to get changed while he returned to his o
ffice to attend a meeting. Alissa wandered round the penthouse admiring the fabulous art works on display, before selecting an elegant green shift dress to wear. The prospect of trying to deceive her mother into crediting that she was in love with Sergei seriously unnerved her.
But she need not have worried for right from the start Sergei took centre stage and it was soon clear that her mother was much impressed by his calm and assurance. Alissa, however, was taken aback when the older woman let drop that Alexa had picked the same day to marry Harry that Alissa had to marry Sergei. As quickly Alissa assumed that Alexa had chosen that date deliberately to ensure that Sergei did not have an opportunity to meet her.
‘An extraordinary coincidence,’ Sergei commented.
‘A disaster because I can’t be in two places at once,’ Alissa’s mother opined in a pained voice, her distress unconcealed at that clash of dates. ‘I’m heavily involved in organising Alexa’s day and, because she’s pregnant, I can’t possibly abandon her to see to it all on her own—’
‘Of course not,’ Alissa broke in and squeezed her mother’s hand soothingly. ‘We understand…’
‘But I really would like to see both my daughters get married.’
‘Unhappily our arrangements are too advanced to allow the date to be changed,’ Sergei said in a tone of apology.
‘But there is a solution,’ Jenny told him hopefully. ‘Would you consider a double wedding with Alexa and Harry here in the UK?’
Alissa’s eyes opened very wide at that startling suggestion and she froze in dismay; if Sergei met her sister, he would learn that Jenny’s daughters were identical twins and he might well become suspicious!
‘I’m afraid such an arrangement would not be possible.’ Sergei then explained that he had an elderly and frail grandmother who had never left Russia in her life and who was eagerly looking forward to attending their traditional wedding in St Petersburg.