She really had promised she would stick to her diet this week but a morning spent with Demyan and a hotdog, even with extra cheese, seemed a very mild vice to have.
He went against everything Alina liked in men, especially the way he behaved about his son. Yes, Alina had read the same magazine! How could she possibly even begin to fancy a man who could simply let go of his child? Well, Roman wasn’t a child exactly, he was a teenager. She had only been three when her father had left.
Alina bit into the salty, greasy hotdog and for the first time since two minutes to eight her mind escaped Demyan. She looked up at the skyscrapers and the Sydney skyline, wondering if her father was behind one of the windows, working through his lunch break perhaps? Or maybe he was among the group of suited men walking towards her?
Would she recognise him if he was?
Would her father recognise her?
Would he even care? Alina thought, going to take a huge bite of her hotdog and realising she’d already finished the thing.
Obviously not.
* * *
Demyan had chosen to eat outside and sat on the terrace, idly watching the crowds go by, when he saw Alina throwing her apple and sandwich away and then buying the lunch that she clearly preferred—he had never seen someone eat a hotdog so fast!
Should he keep her or not? Demyan mildly pondered. Alina was nothing like Marianna or his regular staff, who were as efficient as they were unobtrusive.
He found himself frowning, because it didn’t make sense. Yes, he might sleep with Marianna at times, but when working she could be sitting beside him and he wouldn’t even notice. Alina was so shy and so eager to fade into the background that you actually couldn’t help but notice that she was there.
So shy, so pleasing, yet she’d refused him those painkillers.
‘Can I get you anything, sir?’ the ever-attentive waiter asked.
‘Another coffee,’ Demyan said, but as the waiter walked off Demyan called him back. ‘Could you find me some painkillers? Just bring me the packet.’
‘Of course, sir.’
That was better, Demyan thought briefly.
Actually, it wasn’t.
He remembered the burn in her cheeks as she’d said no to him. Demyan looked back to where she stood, watching the world go by, and he found himself admiring her generous curves.
God, wouldn’t it be nice to bed her? Demyan thought. Once she’d stopped apologising, once she had forgotten how to be shy. Wouldn’t it be nice just to go back to the hotel room and get reacquainted with curves.
The richer he got the slimmer the pickings.
He would save her for later, Demyan decided. Alina would be a very nice reward to look forward to once he had faced the tough weeks ahead.
Demyan took time over his second coffee.
It had nothing to do with keeping her waiting.
He simply didn’t want to go home.
CHAPTER THREE
THEY MET AT the car but Boris didn’t open the door. Instead, he was speaking with Demyan, who had loosened his tie and was now wearing dark glasses. Demyan barely glanced over as she approached.
‘We are walking,’ he said as Alina went to open the car door.
Walking?
Where?
Demyan walked faster than Alina and she struggled to keep up.
‘How far away do you live?’ Alina asked, her feet already killing her.
‘We are here.’
‘Oh.’
Of course he’d be in the centre of everything.
A doorman greeted them and Alina held her breath as they stepped into a dark, blissfully cool foyer and approached the elevators.
‘You will speak with Security and they will issue you with keys and a code, but for now use mine.’
Oh, Alina!
She wanted to borrow his dark glasses, she wanted to hide her fear because this was so far beyond anything she had imagined. He could almost feel her worry as they walked towards the entrance. ‘What?’ Demyan asked as he turned and saw her biting on her bottom lip. ‘What is wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Alina said, suddenly remembering the hole in her stockings. ‘Do I have to take my shoes off?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I forgot to bring flats,’ she offered, but really she was more worried about the hole in her stocking and the fact it had been a little too long since she’d paid due attention to her toenails.
‘Alina.’ He turned and faced her before opening the door. ‘Do I look like someone who would ask you to remove your shoes?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’m offended.’
Alina looked up.
He wasn’t offended.
Oh, she couldn’t see his eyes behind his glasses, but his lips were smiling, just a little bit, and to Alina his mouth looked beautiful as he spoke on. ‘And you don’t look like a woman who carries flats, just in case,’ Demyan said.
‘I want to be one, though.’ That smile was still almost there and Alina rewarded it with the truth. ‘There’s a hole in my stocking.’
Had he not still been wearing dark glasses, Demyan suspected that Alina’s stockings would have promptly evaporated from the look he shot her, but he bit back a very wicked response to that comment, as he took out his key. He’d been dreading coming here and certainly hadn’t expected to be smiling, let alone mildly turned on as he put the key to the door.
‘How good are you with numbers?’ Demyan asked, before opening the door.
‘You mean maths?’ Alina gave him a little yikes look. ‘Awful!’
‘I mean memory,’ Demyan said, and then recited six numbers as he opened the door. ‘Now punch them in.’
Alina had a very good memory.
Usually.
Except as they stepped into paradise she could smell him again and that feeling was back low, low in her stomach as he stood behind her. Demyan stared at her pink ears as she managed the first three numbers.
‘I can’t.’
‘You can,’ Demyan said, and she could feel his words reverberate down her spine. ‘You have forty more seconds and if you get it wrong, or you are too late, the place will be swarming with security—’
‘No pressure to get it right, then,’ Alina interrupted. She could barely breathe. It wasn’t the numbers that were the issue, it was their issuer. Alina doubted she could recite her two times tables with Demyan standing behind her. His hand was now hovering over hers and the thought of contact, the thought of possibly imploding at his touch... Somehow she punched them in.
‘Good girl.’
His compliment she found curious, yet there was another shiver of thrill as she turned around, but Demyan had started walking.
‘This is the one and only time I’ll be here with you,’ Demyan said, in business mode now and loathing being back. ‘Any questions you have, speak up now.’ Oh, she had plenty questions as she gazed around. There was a huge staircase in the middle that beckoned upwards, but for now Alina couldn’t even begin to take that in. It wasn’t just that there was a picture-postcard view, they were in the postcard, high, high above the Opera House, in the centre