Well, not so much like a lover as he might’ve liked.
“Shall we go?”
“Yes, we shall. You’ll be pleased to know that I have arranged for us to dine privately on the balcony here in the hotel.”
“Dining even? A whole meal? I was expecting just one drink.”
“That’s the thing with me, Ms. Calder, I don’t do anything by halves.”
And that right there caused a blush of color to blossom in her cheeks. That subtle innuendo caused a disturbance in her otherwise-unruffled appearance.
She felt it, too. This thing between them. It made his blood run hotter. And it made him want to push.
“Is that a promise, Mr. Markin?” Her tone was as cold as ever, but he knew the truth now. It was written over her pale skin, a rose-colored letter signifying her body’s interest.
“Oh, yes. It is a promise. For you most especially. Should you ever want to test me, I will be more than happy to rise to the occasion.”
He could see that she knew he was baiting her, knew that he was taking the conversation away from neutral territory, that he was moving things into the realm of the sexual, which he had purposed upon first meeting her not to do.
He had never been a capricious man; his lifestyle had never lent itself to that. At least not the lifestyle he had found himself in when he’d been cast onto the streets.
From that moment on, planning had been of the utmost importance, finding a course and staying it.
But right now he was contemplating going off-plan altogether. Considering what it might be like if he were to ignore the chess game and surrender to what felt inevitable. He prized his control above all else—men who came from the depths that he had come from could afford to do nothing else. Because he knew what it was like when he let his emotions wreak havoc in his life. And when you came from a place where you let your anger control you, you held no control. There was nothing but blood, nothing but violence. And after that, nothing but an endless well of anger, a black pit that had no bottom that he had seemed to fall through endlessly, waiting for a crushing end to the fall that had simply never happened.
It had been eternal darkness. It had been hell.
Until Colvin had lifted him out of it and shown him a better way. Sure, it was a painful road. One paved with blood and broken bones, but it was no more than he’d deserved. He couldn’t imagine a more fitting exit from his personal hell.
Yes, there were many reasons he had purposed to live a life that was led by something other than emotion. Reasons he had buried his old self, and risen again new, clean, different. A baptism by blood and pain, in the truest sense. He’d had to be born again, to accept what he’d become so he could move on, and so he had been. He had not lied when he’d told Victoria that.
She had forced them together and he resented that. It made it all the more important that he not indulge his desire for her because he’d been manipulated into this and he would not let her lead him around by his male anatomy in addition to everything else.
But, with her so near, golden hair so soft, so tempting and close enough to touch again, to wrap around his finger, he wanted to indulge.
You want to go back to that again? To having no choice? To having your hand forced?
His stomach tightened hard as memory closed in around him.
Overwhelming fear, blinding rage, a gunshot and a scream in the air, leaving his entire life shattered, never to be mended again.
No, he could not pursue this.
Control was everything, and the fact that he had forgotten that even for a moment, the fact that he had been on the verge of justifying giving in to temptation meant that he could not.
“It’s just upstairs, Victoria. Shall we go?” he repeated, reminding himself of why they were here, what they were doing.
She treated him to one of her tightly controlled smiles. If anything, he should use Victoria as an example of how he should behave. He should admire the fact that she didn’t break, rather than being tempted to shatter her.
“An excellent idea, Mr. Markin. I eagerly look forward to our dinner.”
He extended his arm, and she curled her own around it. He tried to ignore the flash of heat that rioted through him.
But this was not settled. Nothing was inevitable. Not even this.
He didn’t have to give in.
“As do I.”
THERE WAS NO ONE else out on the hotel balcony; there was nothing else save one table set for two, crisp linen laid over the surface. Two chairs were placed opposite each other, a low flickering candle in the center. It was designed to be the perfect romantic dinner. Too bad Victoria wanted no part of romance where Dmitri was concerned, and very much too bad that she had to play as though she did anyway. But they could not afford to break character, not even here, not even for one moment.
Of course that meant sharing a room while they were in New Orleans, but fortunately she had been able to book them in a suite that was large enough they might as well be staying down the hall from each other. He hadn’t come up to the room during her shower, and as long as he maintained his distance she would be fine.
This—this dinner set out here in the ever-darkening evening—for whatever reason, felt even more intimate than the shared suite. Perhaps because they were on display, which should make it seem less intimate, but given the nature of their arrangement, it did not.
It was starting to get dark outside, the gas lamps that lined the streets of the quarter flickering on, casting an orange glow on everything beneath him. Where they sat she could hear the noise beginning to pick up on Bourbon Street just around the corner. If they rounded to the other side of the hotel they would be able to get a view of the revelers, and Victoria had to admit that part of her was curious. New Orleans had a reputation for being a city that stripped you of inhibition, and since Victoria had been firmly attached to her inhibitions since that great, final humiliation, she found she was slightly interested in what the city might look like now. Something like wanting to observe a foreign culture and gain an understanding.
That was it. It had nothing to do with the man who was currently crossing the balcony and moving to the romantically laid out table. Nothing to do with the fact she was intrigued by what it might mean to lose her inhibitions with Dmitri.
No, she was not considering that.
He held her chair out for her, and she smiled in a fashion that she was certain was exceedingly gracious and sat down.
Dmitri took his place at the table across from her. “The meal will be served soon. It’s prix fixe, so I hope there is nothing you are exceptionally unfond of.”
“I can’t imagine anything served at a place like this wouldn’t be wonderful.”
“The city does have a great food reputation.”
“And I am very excited to partake of it.” She looked around at the empty balcony. “I would also like that drink.” Something to take the edge off being so near to the man.
As if on cue, hotel waitstaff appeared, one brandishing a bottle of wine and the other with a plate of appetizers. The first employee set about pouring the wine while the second laid the plates in front of them laden with a salad with softshell crab, and set about explaining the dishes that they would be eating that evening.
Then they both bowed out quickly, leaving Victoria alone with Dmitri again.
“You are satisfied with how things for the event are shaping up?” Dmitri asked, lifting