Midnight Alpha

by Carole Mortimer

  This young woman didn’t give the impression she had any of the sophistication necessary to accept such a businesslike relationship.

  Besides which, the information in her file alone now gave him even more reason to question why she was working at Utopia at all.

  Gaia watched Gregori Markovic surreptitiously across the desk from beneath her lashes as he seemed momentarily lost in thought, but her eyes widened as he pulled a folder from the ‘in’ tray and placed it on the desk directly in front of him.

  A folder with her name on the front of it.

  A folder that looked much thicker than needed for just the form she had filled in when she applied for a job here.

  Oh shit!

  Her heart started beating double time, her thoughts racing as she slowly straightened to look across and into those cold and merciless dark eyes, her throat going dry as Gregori looked straight back at her. Not speaking. Not moving so much as a muscle.

  As power games went it was very effective. And although Gaia didn’t want to respond to it, she couldn’t help herself as she began to fidget and shift restlessly, her gaze sliding away from his, only to move back again as that silence lengthened into complete awkwardness.

  What was Gregori thinking?

  What the hell was in that folder besides her application form?

  More to the point, did Russian crime bosses go in for the concrete shoes method of elimination that had once been so popular?

  And wouldn’t that be ironic after her comments tonight about the shoes she was forced to wear while working here.

  The silence stretched on, with Gaia becoming tenser by the second as she waited for Gregori to say something. Anything would be better than this—this mental torture.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand the waiting anymore, when she was about to break and confess all, Gregori drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, those dark eyes becoming even more piercing. “Just exactly why are you working here, Miss Miller?”

  Oh God.

  How did he know? How had he discovered the truth? She and Angela may have had the same father, but Angela had been legitimate and Gaia hadn’t, and as such their surnames were different, and there was absolutely no similarity in the way they looked either. Angela had been tall, slender and blond—

  “Miss Miller?”

  Gaia felt as if her heart really was going to beat right out of her chest, dark spots appearing in front of her eyes as Gregori opened the folder to look down at the first page.

  At what? What the hell was written in that file that had caused him to question her reason for working at Utopia?

  She glanced at the door behind her, wondering what her chances were of escaping from the room and the nightclub before running screaming into the night.

  Nil, came the flat, immediate answer.

  She had no chance; knew she wouldn’t even get as far as the hallway if she were to attempt it. Had no doubts that beneath that perfectly tailored suit there was a body of steel. It was there in the smooth and measured way Gregori moved: light on his feet and ready to pounce, like the predator he undoubtedly was.

  And even if she did make it as far as the hallway, there was no way she would manage to get out of the nightclub, not with Nikolai still prowling about downstairs.

  Gaia decided to opt for ignorance instead of any attempt at escape. “I’m not sure what it is you’re asking?”

  Her eyes widened and she pressed against the back of the chair when, instead of answering her, Gregori stood up abruptly. He picked up her folder and moved to stand in front of her, leaning back against the desk. Only inches separated them now.

  His aim was no doubt to intimidate—as if she wasn’t intimidated enough already—but his close proximity also succeeded in making Gaia completely aware of the heat emanating from his tightly leashed body. She could also smell the heady combination of all that hot masculinity and the lemon and sandalwood aftershave. Although the dark stubble on his arrogantly squared jaw seemed to indicate it was some time since he had last shaved. Sexy and enticing stubble that made Gaia’s fingers itch to touch and caress it.

  If it should somehow transpire that Gregori was the man Angela had been in love with, then Gaia could certainly understand the fascination.

  She tossed the length of her hair back over her shoulder as she looked up at him. “Much as I would like to continue to sit here having this conversation with you, it really has been a very long night, and my shift was over…” she glanced down at the heavy watch on her wrist, “half an hour ago.” She stood up. “Now if you don’t mind, I really would like to go—”

  “Sit down, Miss Miller.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I said sit down, Miss Miller!”

  Gaia sat. Not because she wanted to or because he had ordered her to, but because she had to, her knees having turned to the consistency of jelly at the intimidating command in Gregori’s voice.

  Those concrete shoes were looking more and more like a possibility to Gaia.

  Chapter 4

  “You wrote on your application that you have a degree in journalism and publishing.” Gregori watched Gaia closely for her reaction to his statement.

  A reaction he wasn’t expecting.

  Confusion and then relief.

  As if she had been expecting him to say something else entirely.

  Confirming his suspicion that there was more to Gaia Miller’s employment here than appeared on paper?

  Just not his most recent suspicion, after reading of her qualifications in her file, that she might be looking to write an expose story on him.

  Then was it possible she was somehow connected to Ivan Orlov?

  Gregori found that hard to believe. He just couldn’t equate this young Englishwoman with the man who had become his biggest enemy, especially when Gregori knew for a fact that Ivan had only ever stepped foot in England twice. Once five years ago, and again seven months ago when the older man attended the funeral of Gregori’s father.

  Besides which, the other man was old school, and would come for him armed with a gun rather than waste time attempting to entice him into the arms of a beautiful woman.

  So if this young woman wasn’t intending to write an expose on him, or working for Ivan, exactly what was Gaia Miller hiding and why?

  Whatever it was, it didn’t stop Gregori from appreciating the view he had of the lushness of her breasts as he towered over her. Breasts he still wanted to cup and caress, to watch as his hands stroked her nipples to hard peaks before he pulled on them, milked them, and listened to her groans of pleasure.

  God, he needed to get laid. Badly. Except he already knew that not just any beautiful woman would do. Because he wanted this one. Which, under the circumstances, was fucking inconvenient.

  “Yes?” She gazed up at him quizzically with those golden eyes.

  Gregori closed the folder with a snap, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile as Gaia Miller gave a start at the loud noise in the otherwise silent room.

  Truth was he didn’t need to look at her file to know what was in it. He knew her age and her education from her employment application, but Nikolai had also learned that her mother was dead and her father recorded as ‘unknown’ on her birth certificate.

  And it turned out they were short-staffed at Utopia, and not just because of the flu that seemed to have struck down most of the cleaning staff. They had also lost one of the hostesses a couple of months ago, and two of the bar staff had left in the last few month as well.

  Gaia Miller’s references from her summer job as an employee in a coffee shop were excellent. Those references also said she was hardworking, diligent, trustworthy, and had no absences due to sickness. Which explained why Claude had employed her.

  It was unfortunate that Gregori now ached to put that ‘diligence’ to use by pressing her up against a wall and fucking her brains out.

  This constant hard-on he had in her company was not only unacceptable, it was also going to beco
me extremely annoying if he didn’t do something about it.

  He pushed abruptly away from the front of the desk to move back and sit behind it, giving a hard smile as he heard Gaia give an audible sigh of relief. Revealing that she was just as physically aware of him?

  “It really is late, Mr. Markovic—or early, depending on your point of view,” she added. “And I’m sure you must have had a reason for bringing me up here?”

  There was a purpose to everything that Gregori did and said. Everything. A man in his position had no room in his life for error. Which made the need he felt to fuck Gaia Miller a monumental mistake, on so many levels.

  His mouth thinned. “I’ll be sure to tell Claude to add an extra hour in your wages this week.”

  “I would appreciate a taxi home more,” she came back instantly.

  No doubt as another reference to her sore feet. He really would have to look into this complaint with Claude, and do something about it if all the other female bar staff were as unhappy with their footwear as this one.

  “Very well,” he nodded. “And as we still have another thirty minutes left of that extra hour, perhaps you would like to tell me why a woman with a degree in journalism and publishing is serving drinks in a casino?”

  Gaia looked at him incredulously. That was this man’s problem with her working here?

  She gave a shake of her head. “Have you looked at the world of journalism and publishing recently? No, of course you haven’t—it doesn’t affect you because you don’t own any newspapers or publishing houses.” She felt her cheeks warm a little as Gregori raised questioning brows at her knowledge of his business holdings. “Both are shrinking,” she continued determinedly. “Almost daily. Because of the advances in technology mainly.”

  “Then perhaps you should have chosen a different career?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Most of that technology wasn’t there when I began my degree five years ago. I came out of university to find that there were no jobs in publishing. That will tell you,” she nodded to the folder he had placed back on the desk top, “that I’ve worked several internships with publishing houses this past year, with no prospect of a full-time job at the end of them. My last job was as a waitress in a coffee shop—”

  “At which you excelled apparently.” He nodded. “It also states that your employer was sorry to let you go, which tells me it was your decision to leave,” he bit out hardly. “Which again brings me back to the question of why you gave up that job to work in a bar with unsociable hours?”

  “Money. I earn almost twice as much here as I did in the coffee shop. It’s explained as easily as that.” Gaia gave him a frowning glance, noting there was no lessening of the coldness in his eyes. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  “You would know that better than I.”

  Gaia didn’t appreciate his cat-and-mouse game. “Perhaps you think I’m here to write some sort of expose story on the infamous Gregori Markovic? That’s exactly what you thought!” she realized as his narrowed gaze grew even colder. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Markovic,” she snorted. “You may not own any newspapers or publishing houses, but you’re certainly powerful enough to prevent any of them from printing a story you don’t like.”

  If his reputation alone could deter the police from following up on her information regarding Angela’s death, then he could certainly prevent a newspaper from writing anything about him he didn’t approve of. Which was probably anything and everything.

  It was almost a relief to realize that Gregori Markovic thought she was an undercover reporter looking for a story. Almost. Because he didn’t look any more convinced of her innocence than he had when they walked in here fifteen minutes ago.

  “Infamous?” he repeated icily.

  Gaia gave an inward sigh, wondering if she could do or say anything right where this man was concerned. “You’re Gregori Markovic!”

  “And?”

  “Is this a trick question? One of those ones with no right answer,” she explained as he arched a questioning brow. “I point out that you’re highly newsworthy, from two completely different angles—as the new patriarch of the powerful Markovic family and also as one of the most eligible bachelors in the world—and you give me a pair of concrete shoes for my impertinence?”

  What the hell—

  Gregori rose abruptly to his feet. “I do not kill people, Miss Miller!”

  “Well maybe not personally,” she conceded dryly. “That’s the reason you have men like Mr. Volkov working for you.”

  “Nikolai does not kill people either,” he bit out between gritted teeth. No one—no one had ever dared—

  “I told you there was no right answer.” Gaia Miller sank back against the chair.

  As if she was afraid of him? Of him! Yes, his father had been as old school as Ivan Orlov, and there had been deaths in the past ordered by his father, but Gregori was an educated man, a civilized man, and he ruled in a completely different manner than his father had. He may have people persuaded into doing as he wished, but he didn’t kill people. The Markovic reputation alone was enough to put the fear of God into most people, and those that were foolish enough to ignore it—

  Gregori breathed in deeply through his nose as he fought for control, his hands clenched at his sides as he glared down at this audaciously outspoken young woman. “There will be a car waiting outside to drive you home when you are ready to leave.” He could feel a nerve jumping in the tenseness of his jaw. “Goodnight, Miss Miller.” He turned his back on her abruptly before he said or did something further that he would regret.

  He heard the rustle of her clothing as she stood up and hurried over to the door, and then the sound of her footsteps light outside in the carpeted hallway.

  Because she wasn’t wearing any shoes, Gregori realized as he glanced down and saw them sitting beside the chair where she had left them.

  Just like fucking Cinderella.

  Except they had just established beyond a shadow of a doubt that Gaia Miller knew Gregori was no Prince Charming.

  “Anything you want to tell me?”

  Gregori glanced across the room to where an amused Nikolai leaned against the doorframe.

  “They look a little small for you…”

  Gregori frowned for a moment and then realized that he must have bent down at some point and picked up those high-heeled shoes, because he was now holding them in his hand. “Obviously they belong to Miss Miller. Could you see that they are returned to her when you drive her home?”

  Nikolai sauntered into the room to take the shoes from him. “You want me to drive her home?” Pale brows rose. “Personally?”

  He could understand the other man’s surprise. Nikolai was his personal bodyguard as well as his friend. The problems at Utopia had necessitated that Gregori take three of Nikolai’s men with him to Venice, while Nikolai remained here, but that status quo would revert back to normal now that Gregori had returned to England.

  “That and only that, Nikolai,” there was an unmistakable warning in his tone.

  The other man held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve already got the message that you consider Miss Miller exclusive.”

  Gregori gave a humorless smile. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “She isn’t anything to me except an employee.” He gave a rueful shake of his head as his tension started to ease a little. “And I believe she may have watched too many old gangster movies, because she seems to have the idea I might want to fit her up with a pair of concrete shoes if she displeases me.” If she displeased him? Gregori was so angry at the moment he could have put his fist through a wall.

  Yes, the name Markovic was a powerful one, but he had been trying for years now to ensure that everything within the Markovic business holdings was run in a legitimate manner. His father had claimed it was a weakness, but Gregori disagreed with him. As Gaia Miller had pointed out just minutes ago, the world had changed, dramatically, especially so since his father’s rise to power all those years
ago. The true power now lay in technology rather than muscle, and over the past ten years Gregori had ensured that the Markovic family was very powerful indeed. He could make or break whole countries if he so wished.

  Concrete fucking shoes!

  Was that really how others perceived him? As nothing more than a thug, who had people killed because they gave him the wrong answer?

  Nikolai winced. “Did she actually say that to your face?”

  “She did.” Gregori grimaced.

  Nikolai gave a wolfish grin. “I trust you told her that we have a much more sophisticated approach to dealing with our enemies nowadays?”

  He gave a shake of his head. “I was far too angry at the time to continue the conversation.”

  Nikolai stilled, eyebrows raised. “You don’t get angry.”

  No, he didn’t. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling anger, not when so much could depend on the decisions he did or didn’t make. Gaia Miller had just succeeded in making him very angry. Very aroused. And a whole gamut of emotions in between.

  He gave a weary sigh. “Just ensure that she returns home safely, Nikolai,” he instructed tautly. “I will deal with the outspoken Miss Miller in my own way in my own time.”

  “I’m guessing that way might involve silk sheets rather than concrete shoes?” the other man drawled.

  Gregori instantly had a return of that vision of Gaia Miller’s red hair spread out on black silk pillows, her naked skin creamy against the darkness, and revealing every single one of those freckles, which he was going to kiss—

  “I’m going to leave you to your fantasy.” Nikolai chuckled as he turned to leave. “I’ll have Alexander drive you home.”

  “In about ten minutes.” Gregori nodded distractedly. He wanted to read through Gaia Miller’s file once more before he left, to see if there was anything he’d missed earlier.

  Her surprise—and relief—had been genuine earlier when she thought he had assumed she was here to do an expose story on him.

  Gregori was determined to know the reason for that relief.