As if that wouldn’t suit you. He spoke like a friend who had her best interests at heart, but she knew him well enough to read the subtext. Despite herself, she was wounded by his willingness to throw her to the wolves. And she resented the hell out of it, considering how hard she worked for him.
Blinking back the sudden moisture that stung her eyes, she hurried through the door with her ex still in pursuit. Safely beyond earshot of their guests, she forced the words out.
“If you feel that way about my integrity, Geoff, perhaps I should explore the feasibility of a transfer. Yekaterinburg or Vladivostok, maybe—someplace several time zones away. At least that way I’d be out from under your shadow.”
“You used to like it there,” he said softly. Sighing, she angled her path toward the ladies’ room. “Only it wasn’t my shadow you wanted to be under, was it?”
“Too bad for me,” she murmured, “given the number of other women jockeying for the spot. Now stop harassing me, Geoff, unless you want to cause a scene in front of the security cameras.”
That stopped him, as she’d known it would. Like her father, Geoff Chase always put appearances first. He paused to adjust his silver silk tie, and she hurried into the ladies’ room, relieved beyond measure to find she had it to herself.
She spent a few minutes before the mirror, cooling down: splashing cold water on her wrists, unbuttoning the oyster wool blazer over her smoke-colored camisole, dabbing a few drops behind her ears from the Coco Chanel in her purse. The dark musky fragrance teased her nostrils, reminding her of last night’s erotic fantasy. She glanced away from her reflection: pupils dilated, pale cheeks tinged with color, a few tendrils escaping the sleek knot she’d twisted her hair into that morning.
Maybe I should let my hair down—figuratively speaking. That traitorous thought snuck in below her radar. Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been restless lately…and it can’t be the job. Professionally speaking, I’m exactly where I’ve planned to be.
Maybe a torrid affair with an incredibly sexy Russian would be just the thing. It’s been two whole years since I slept with Geoff. I’ve lived like a nun, for God’s sake.
Lightly she touched the blue-white diamonds she rarely removed from her earlobes—a gift from her proud father the day she’d been sworn into the Foreign Service. The happiest day of his life, he’d told her.
What am I doing? Guilt shadowed her features. Her high-octane career, the exotic locales, the heady whiff of power, and her meteoric rise through the ranks had been her life for the past ten years. That, and the colossal disaster of her marriage, which she probably would never have muddled into, if not for her father’s enthusiasm.
Was she going to throw it all away now, for a few hours or weeks of passion with a mystery man she knew she could never trust? Of course not. Starting today, she had her priorities back in order. When Victor Kostenko tried contacting her again—which, inevitably, he must—she’d delegate the meeting to her deputy, a perfectly competent woman ten years older than Alexis, who wanted Alexis’s job too badly to make mistakes. She’d demonstrate decisively to the Russians, her new boss, and everyone else that her hand hadn’t slipped from the tiller.
And a year from now, when her assignment was over, Alexis would move on to another post and start strategizing for her next promotion. She’d be satisfied and content with her professional success and the glamorous lifestyle that went with it. Her aching loneliness and that terrifying sense of entrapment would remain firmly hidden—even from herself—behind her Minister-Counselor’s façade. And she’d thank her lucky stars for the self-control that had kept her out of Victor Kostenko’s bed.
With a determined nod, Alexis snapped her handbag closed and opened the bathroom door a few cautious inches. No sign of either Geoff or Kostenko, which of course she was grateful for. Taking a deep breath, she headed down the corridor toward the elevators.
An electrifying whiff of tobacco—distinctive in the Embassy’s sterile atmosphere—kicked her pulse into high gear. Too late to react, she glimpsed the tall blond shadow filling the doorway to the conference room.
He had to know she’d follow him in there. No doubt he’d figured out that the mere sight of him, alone and unescorted within the Embassy’s secure perimeter, would obligate her to collect him for security reasons.
Projecting self-assurance, she strode into the conference room, though she gripped her handbag like a weapon. “I’m afraid the party’s confined to the Winter Garden, Captain Kostenko. Can I help you find something?”
Behind him, the sluggish gray light of a Moscow afternoon ebbed through the window, bathing the vacant table and chairs where weekly staff meetings were held. The light played in the burnished depths of the captain’s hair, edged his uniform in golden dazzle, made his narrowed eyes glitter like the diamonds she’d just been fiddling with.
“Privyet, Alexis,” he murmured, making the casual greeting as intimate as a lover’s caress. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve found what I’m searching for.”
He filled the room’s pedestrian confines with crackling energy, like a live electrical wire arcing on a public street. Powerful and dangerous, drawing her closer even when she knew she should keep away.
“There’s nothing here to interest you,” she countered, fighting to speak steadily through the clench of nerves that gripped her chest. “It’s not even a secure room.”
As if to prove her a liar, the weighted door thudded closed behind her, sealing the two of them in together. And he’d probably engineered the situation to fall out just that way.
This was it, then. Her chance to recapture the initiative, to inform him firmly that she wasn’t interested in him either romantically or sexually, then usher him back to the public gathering. And make her own escape.
“Unfortunately I don’t have time to chat today,” she said crisply, deploying her most professional demeanor. “I have an appointment in five minutes with someone else.”
“Then break it,” he growled, advancing on her.
She needed to shepherd him out of here, back to the safety of the herd. But, with that damn erotic dream still fresh in her mind, she wasn’t prepared to initiate physical contact with him in order to steer him out.
She glanced through the window toward the South Gate Marine post, reminding herself and him that backup was only a phone call away, if she needed it. But the tactic backfired when the maneuver put Kostenko between her and the door. He moved with the speed and confidence of a man who risked his life, gambled everything on strength and cunning, took calculated chances and saw them pay off in spades.
“I really can’t break this appointment. He’s a senior NATO official.” Alexis put more space between them, until her back brushed the wall. He’d blockaded her neatly, which wasn’t part of her game plan. But she’d always been at her best in a tight spot. Nerves fluttered low in her belly, little jolts of anticipation clenching between her thighs.
“I’m afraid you aren’t a very talented liar, Alexis.” His eyes sparked with cold fire as he closed in. “Let me offer a word of caution. When it comes to detecting subterfuge, I’ve had a lifetime of experience.”
She tried for an ironic smile. “Actually, I’m a perfectly serviceable liar, captain. It’s one of my job requirements.”
“A job that fails to fulfill you.” His mouth tightened in one of those humorless smiles, his features intent as he towered over her. “A career whose bars are closing in around you. Every time your government promotes you, they shrink the size of your cage, don’t they? Though I’m certain you hope that if you sacrifice enough for your country, someday a certain contentment will result, yes? In time, you’ll come to embrace your chains, and your prison will feel like freedom.”
“No! That’s not true at all,” she exclaimed, fighting a sudden, senseless surge of panic. “Frankly, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
The scent of him was thick enough to taste, dark and complex as thirty-year Scotch.
Mixed with the smooth silk of tobacco that would turn on any woman whose urbane and sophisticated father had smoked.
“Captain, what are you doing here?” she demanded, heart jumping with the charge of danger. “And please don’t insult my intelligence by talking to me about ‘dialogue’. I said everything I was authorized to say last night.”
“It’s not an official event. And I’m taking the Deputy Minister’s place, which will correctly be viewed as an affront.” His voice thickened as he braced one arm against the wall above her head. “Besides, damn it, I can’t keep away from you.”
Backing her tight into the corner with his body, he leaned in and kissed her, hard and hot. And it was like nothing she’d ever known, nothing like the fumbling eager intimacies of the forgettable men she’d allowed into her bed over the years. All mannerly, well-bred men she’d felt certain she could control.
Victor Kostenko didn’t kiss the Undersecretary’s daughter, the pedigreed phenom who’d made Political Counselor faster than any woman ever had. He kissed her like a man staking a claim, utterly certain, tasting like the bite of expensive cognac—and going straight to her head. He kissed her like he wanted to crawl deep inside to explore all her secrets. And wasn’t that what she suspected him of?
God, she didn’t care. Her knees weakened as a surge of raw need rolled through her. Moaning deep in her throat, she clutched his lapels with both hands and hung on. Needed to keep him right there—no, pull him closer. Though they couldn’t get as close as she wanted, with both of them wearing clothes.
His low growl made her shiver as the muscled length of his body nudged against her. One hand lodged against her bottom, eased her up against him until her thighs slipped apart, giving him the access he wanted.
The hard bulge beneath his trousers brushed against her sweet spot. Gripped in a vise of need that caught her undefended, she arched into him, spilled breathless sounds into his mouth as he rocked against her. The rhythmic pulse of desire coiled tight inside her. In another few seconds, God help her, she was going to lose it completely.
And that had never happened before, couldn’t be allowed to happen now, here, with him. Steps away from the Winter Garden where her boss, her colleagues and half the diplomatic community were sandwiched together, barely entertained by the same tired dialogue, the same rote phrases, the same plastic smiles that kept the gears greased among countries that barely understood each other. Anyone could come blundering through that door—a door that didn’t lock.
“Christ,” Kostenko groaned, letting her up for air. Breathing heavily, she was gratified to see, as he leaned his forehead against the wall.
Still clinging to his jacket, pinned against his body, Alexis struggled to pull herself together. Knowing she’d collapse if he backed away now. Still, this had to stop.
“Captain,” she breathed, lips moist and tingling from that amazing kiss. “Let me go.”
He chuffed out a breath that might have been amusement. “I think you can call me Victor now, if you can bring yourself to it, Ms. Castle.”
“Actually…” She sounded winded, damn it. “I’m not sure we should go there. This, um, kiss was a one-time thing.”
“Is that your government’s position, Counselor?” he said huskily, raising his head. A fine sheen of perspiration glittered on his brow, and she knew her silk camisole was clinging damply to her breasts. “The Russian side has a different perspective. Let’s go someplace private, and finish what we’ve started.”
God, that sounded good to her—and she was out of her mind. She uttered a laugh of sheer disbelief. OK, let’s focus on the practical.
“Where would you suggest we go, captain? It’s three o’clock in the afternoon! It’s not like we can just saunter across the compound to my place.”
Comprehension sharpened his gaze, breaking through the smolder of passion. And he had to know her people weren’t the only obstacle to this ill-advised fling. He’d know, though she couldn’t say it, that her townhouse was bugged by the Russians.
“We can’t go to my flat either,” he admitted. Because of course the Russians bugged their own officials too, their suspicions being universal. “I know how to switch it off, but it isn’t advisable.”
“In fact, captain—”
“Call me Victor, for Christ’s sake,” he said irritably.
“Very well, if you insist on it. Ah, Victor…” Another intimacy, saying his name like that, and it had to be the last one. “The fact is, there’s nowhere in Moscow the two of us can possibly go.”
“This is untrue. We’re going,” he told her calmly, the bloody tyrant. His entire crew must have been galley slaves. “We’ll discuss the particulars in the car.”
“We need to discuss the particulars now!” Fueled by caution, still turned on as hell, she gathered her legs beneath her and scrambled away from him. There was no way she could possibly regain the initiative while her head was full of Beckham and the scent of her own arousal. “On second thought, let’s just forget it. This encounter was a mistake, so there’s really nothing to discuss.”
Pushing a hand through his blond hair, he locked in on her skittish gaze and hoisted his brows. “You do realize that I’m not leaving this room until you agree to accompany me. Yes?”
“No,” she said stubbornly, putting the conference table between them. “This entire discussion is ridiculous. I’m not an ensign on your submarine, Captain Kostenko! I don’t have to salute you and say yes, sir.”
“Don’t get excited, Ms. Castle,” he drawled, all arrogance. “You can tell your superiors that you’re cultivating me. That I’m resentful of the system that took my boat away. That you think you can turn me.”
“I’m not an intelligence operative,” she countered, with a glance toward the door. Although of course the bug was in the light fixture. “It’s not my job to turn you.”
“But they’ll want to use you anyway.” He met her gaze dead on, challenging her to deny it. “Won’t they?”
“And what about you?” She challenged him right back. “What orders did you receive about turning me? I’d have to check, but I’ll bet I’d be the highest-ranking U.S. diplomat your government has compromised since the fall of the Soviet Union.”
“Only the highest-ranking diplomat your government knows about,” he murmured. Joking?
“I’d be quite the coup for you, captain.” Screw the bug, and screw him too. “They’d probably award you another medal for it. They might even forgive you for your father.”
The minute the words left her lips, Alexis wished she hadn’t said them. Victor Kostenko was not a man to be pushed around.
A muscle flexed in his jaw as he pushed away from the wall and indulged in a bit of pacing himself. He prowled before the window, his movements leashed tight against brooding anger. Searching his pockets, he dug out his cigarettes and lighter.
“You can’t smoke in here,” she pointed out. “There’s a Clean Indoor Air Act—”
“Tell me, Ms. Castle,” he muttered around his cigarette, lighting up anyway. “Were you a hall monitor in that elite preparatory school your mother insisted you attend?”
Heat climbed into her face. No doubt about it, the man knew how to push her buttons. Deliberately, she took a breath and modulated her voice. “Don’t go through the ceiling, then, when you set off the smoke alarm. I’m warning you now, it’s a deafening claxon.”
He slanted her a sardonic glance, but at least he swung the window open. An edge of ice-cold air, sharp as a stropped razor, sliced into the overheated room. Alexis was still warm enough—after kissing him like that—to welcome it.
Facing the window as he smoked, his broad back toward her, he spoke abruptly. “You’re going to make me raise the stakes, Ms. Castle. If you want to keep the focus on your damned job, then I can accommodate you.”
“Oh?” She eyed him cautiously. Where was he going with this?
“What would you say if I told you,” he said, exhaling smoke, “that I have new inf
ormation for your government regarding the so-called aggression in Ukraine?”
Riveted, Alexis stared at his back. He was too damn inscrutable, even when she could see his face. “Are you saying you have documents for my government?”
“I am saying I have oral points,” he said curtly, flicking ash through the window. “Which I am instructed to deliver at an appropriate level of my discretion. I was considering addressing the matter to your former husband.” He allowed a calculated pause. “But what a token it would be of my ministry’s regard, Ms. Castle, if you were to receive this breaking news instead.”
Alexis’s thoughts raced, a current of excitement zinging through her. He was right, of course, and he knew she was ambitious enough to be tempted. Getting the jump on Geoff wouldn’t cost her any sleep either.
But it would be a grave tactical error to react too eagerly. Let him sweeten the deal. Besides, she still didn’t know what was going through his head. She sealed her lips and counted silently to five.
He chuckled under his breath as if he’d read her mind. “I assure you this information will be worth your while, Counselor. Just think of the reporting cable you’ll get.”
“You have my attention, Captain Kostenko,” she said briskly, fishing a pen and notepad from her purse. “What would you like me to convey to my capital?”
He swung around to face her, his gaze shuttered, lounging against the sill as he eyed her through a veil of smoke. “Give me an hour of your time, outside the confines of your Embassy and starting right now, and I’ll brief you in detail.”
“I beg your pardon?” She stared, incredulous, certain she had to be misunderstanding him. Surely, her fleeting sexual fantasy was getting out of hand.
“You heard me.” His eyes locked on hers with laser-like intensity—all but saying I dare you.
“If you have talking points to deliver, we can have that discussion right here,” she pointed out, trying to ignore the thrill of challenge that zinged through her.
The Russian Seduction Page 6