They stopped kissing, but still Roman held her. Anya could feel that his body was broader, more primed, and she ached … simply ached for him—for the years he had denied her his touch, his body.
She should tell him to go. Now was her chance to do just that.
Roman knew, too, that he should leave instead of resurrecting them.
Once, their eyes said. Just this once.
Their bodies could kiss the other goodbye.
Without a word he went and turned the key in the door.
He was back.
For their closing night.
Sexy, scandalous and impossible to resist!
Daniil, Roman, Sev and Nikolai have come a long way from the Russian orphanage they grew up in. These days the four sexy tycoons dominate the world’s stage—and they are just as famed for their prowess between the sheets!
Untamed and untouched by emotion, can these ruthless men find women to redeem them?
You won’t want to miss these sizzling Russians in this sensational quartet from
USA TODAY bestselling author Carol Marinelli
Available only from Mills & Boon Modern Romance!
Find out where it all started in
The Price of His Redemption December 2015
The Cost of the Forbidden January 2016
Billionaire Without a Past May 2016
Return of the Untamed Billionaire
Carol Marinelli
CAROL MARINELLI is a Taurus, with Taurus rising, yet still thinks she is a secret Gemini. Originally from England, she now lives in Australia and is the single mother of three. Apart from her children, writing romance and the friendships forged along the way are her passion. She chooses to believe in a happy-ever-after for all, and strives for that in her writing.
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EVERY TIME SHE danced it was for him.
It was the closing night in London of the spectacular ballet Firebird.
The last time she had been here, Anya had gone from being one of the princesses and an understudy to dancing the leading role.
Now, due to popular demand, the stunning ballet was back.
It was Tatania, Anya’s stage persona, the gathering audience had come to see.
The theatre was packed and Anya had been told that there was a duchess in the audience tonight; yet Anya would dance only for him.
For Roman Zverev.
Her first and only love.
Apart from ballet.
The hours of practice and absolute self-control, the rigorous preparations and the endless reach for perfection Anya did for herself.
Yet, when she danced, it was always for him.
Now she had her own dressing-room. Like most performers, Anya was swathed in superstition and her dressing table was prepared like an altar. It was filled with tiny trinkets she had gathered over the years and specific make-up and brushes that were all neatly arranged.
She had warmed up. Her feet were bandaged and her pointe shoes had been broken in—there were other pairs ready if needed. She had already scraped her straight brown hair into a tight high bun and whitened her face. Carefully, and with great precision, she applied the black and gold make-up that enhanced her pale green eyes.
Everything was done to order.
Now, as she was given the half-hour call, she took a drink of coconut water and slowly ate half a banana. The other half of the banana she carefully wrapped and would eat during the interval, along with a small chocolate treat.
Anya loved chocolate.
It reminded her of Roman.
After she had eaten, Anya dabbed her mouth and then she put on her headpiece of red and gold feathers. She carefully