‘I think that was only natural. You were easily groomed—an easy target. You were vulnerable and he exploited that.’
‘I never truly relaxed into the so-called brotherhood, and Alexi could see that. I had seen how quickly some of their drunken brawls escalated and I made a point to always stay sober. More than once he questioned my loyalty using violence.’
‘Is that where your issue with guns stems from?’ she asked quietly.
Roman frowned, realising he had gone off on a tangent. How had he kept on speaking for this length of time? Usually talking of the brotherhood and its fearless leader was enough to send him into silence for days, but something about Olivia had kept him talking...opening up.
Unwelcome memories assaulted his brain. Memories of the last night he had seen Alexi. Of the blood and the outrage and that pair of terrified, lifeless, baby-blue eyes.
Suddenly he couldn’t talk any more. He stood up, walking to the terrace doors to look out at the night beyond. He shivered, feeling a cold that was not actually in the air but inside him. Ingrained in him.
* * *
Olivia bit her bottom lip hard as Roman remained completely silent by the doors and then watched as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with finality. She had pushed too hard—her curiosity had been too overbearing. He was likely already planning the best way to tell her to leave.
He had made it perfectly clear that he was a one-night-only, no-snuggling type of guy—and here she was, initiating a psychotherapy session.
She lay back, throwing one arm across her face in mortification. She had just made love with this physically gifted specimen of a man and still she kept digging deeper, wanting more from him than he had warned her to expect. Trying to peek under his armour.
She angrily swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, feeling her inner muscles throb with just the barest hint of exertion. She didn’t feel too different, she thought with a frown. A little sore, perhaps, but not monumentally transformed as she had expected.
Still, it had been...utterly perfect.
Maybe it was best that it ended this way. She would arrange to have a helicopter pick her up in the morning and that would be it. No awkward morning-after encounter, no hurt feelings. They both knew what this was, that it could be nothing more. She was completely fine with that.
But still some small naïve part of her made her linger for a moment outside the bathroom door until she heard the shower turned on. He couldn’t have sent a clearer signal if he’d shouted the words Go away! at the top of his lungs.
The night was over.
She returned to her bedroom in darkness, not bothering to turn on any lights as she slipped in between the cool white covers and let stillness wash over her. Her mind raced, thoughts of what tomorrow might bring seeping through to her consciousness as the afterglow of her one experience of lovemaking dimmed.
Was one night of perfect lovemaking with a man of her choosing really enough to carry her through a lifetime of a loveless marriage?
As her exhausted brain admitted defeat and she drifted into half-sleep, she imagined what her wedding day might look like. Only in her mind the man at the top of the aisle was Roman. Devastating in a dark tuxedo as he took her hand and professed his eternal love for her.
All of a sudden her dream shifted to their wedding night, becoming infinitely more erotic. She sighed as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, the scent of him so familiar and overwhelming it was as if she could actually feel the heat of his skin pressing against her.
‘You are so beautiful...’
His voice rasped near her ear, sending shivers down her spine and even lower.
Her eyes snapped open. ‘Roman?’
He was draped across her, the scent of his shower fresh and warm on the air as his mouth laid a trail of kisses down the side of her neck.
‘You left without giving me a chance to say goodbye,’ he said, a dark glint in his eye as he moved lower to take one of her breasts into his mouth.
‘You were the one who left.’ She exhaled on a slow hiss as his teeth grazed her skin. ‘I thought you were a one-night-only kind of guy.’
A wicked smile spread over his dark features as he poised himself over her, one hand snaking a path down her abdomen to slip between her thighs.
‘The night isn’t over yet, Princess.’
His kisses became more heated as his fingers took her higher and higher towards climax. Before she could completely shatter, he turned onto his back and urged her to straddle him.
‘You will still be tender... I don’t want to hurt you,’ he rasped, his breath coming hard and fast, evidence of his arousal.
Olivia moved over him so that her breasts grazed the smattering of dark hair on his chest. She was clumsy at first, uncertain in her own movements as she poised her body over the sizeable length of him. He was rock-hard and already sheathed, waiting for her. She took a moment to slide the tip of him against her most sensitive spot, enjoying the sensation of molten heat that spread through her.
She repeated the motion a few times, wondering if he would grow impatient and take over himself. He didn’t. Even as his rigid jaw showed the extent of his control he remained still, allowing her this moment of exploration.
‘I’m not quite sure if I’ll be any good at this,’ she said uncertainly, lifting herself so that he was poised at her entrance.
‘I’m right here, holding you.’ He ran his large hands down her back, cupping her buttocks with possession as he guided her.
Her body stretched around him as she took him deep inside her in one smooth movement. The barest hint of discomfort faded quickly to an impatient need to roll her hips, to ride him and increase the delicious pressure she could feel with each movement.
‘Is that...good?’ she asked, her breath coming faster as arousal pooled and tightened inside her.
‘You are driving me insane in the best possible way,’ he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Don’t come yet. Not until I’m right there with you.’
Olivia tried to slow down, to control her movements and somehow hold off the mounting climax that seemed ready to shatter her entire being at any second. He held her gaze, his hands gripping her hips as he began thrusting upwards slowly, in time with her.
Their rhythm was so smooth, so gentle, and yet somehow it was filled with a barely restrained madness as they both rose closer and closer to climax. Roman’s breath fanned hard and fast against her cheek as she leaned forward, her breasts crushed against his chest. His hands moved up her back to hold her close, a deep primal groan escaping his lips as he slowed down even further and moved deeper inside her.
Olivia gasped at the overwhelming intensity of being so absolutely cocooned in his strength, and then the intense friction tipped her over the edge and she fell headlong into an orgasm that seemed to ripple through every inch of her body.
As she fell she felt a tightening in her throat, and prayed he wouldn’t see the sheen of moisture in her eyes as she watched him lose control entirely beneath her.
Roman kissed her neck, growling something deeply erotic in his native tongue as the muscles of his abdomen began to ripple with the force of his own orgasm.
Afterwards, as she listened to his breathing deepen with sleep, she wondered if she had ever felt closer to another human being in her entire life.
The thought made her feel sad and grateful all at once. She had got her wish, without a doubt. He had made her first time the most sensual, real experience of her life.
His long, hard body was partly covered, but she still let her gaze sweep over him in the darkness, lingering on his features. His face was transformed in sleep, the hard lines of his mouth completely relaxed. It made him seem younger...more carefree. It dawned on her that she had never seen him look at peace. Here, in sleep, Roman the great and powerful master of sec
urity, was completely vulnerable.
The thought of returning to the palace, to her own empty bed, was suddenly inconceivable. And even worse was the thought of sleeping alongside another man.
Marrying another man.
Her throat tightened painfully with the force of her emotion. Roman would not offer her any more than this night—she knew that. He was not the marrying kind, no matter what she suddenly hoped. He was not even the relationship kind.
But as she lay staring up at the play of shadows on the ceiling she knew one thing with more certainty than she had ever known anything in her life.
She would not marry the Sheikh.
* * *
When she awoke the bed was empty beside her in the early-morning light. Ignoring the sting of loss, she grabbed a white robe and stepped out onto the terrace, taking a moment simply to breathe and take in the gorgeous view of the bay spread out below.
Her hair was a nest of tangles, and she was in dire need of a shower, but for once she had no formal breakfast to attend, no official functions. She could stand here all morning if she chose, enjoying the last few hours of her freedom.
Roman would expect her to leave today, and that was perfectly understandable.
She thought of his revelations last night, the deep, dark secrets he’d shared, and wondered if he would regret sharing so much now that their night together was done.
He had told her only briefly of his life in St Petersburg. Of the orphan who had been abandoned to sleep in cold gutters, but she remembered every word in vivid detail. Every little piece of the puzzle he had revealed that made him what he was.
Roman had lived through hell itself. It was no wonder he seemed harsh. The world had hardened him from the moment he was born. He shouldn’t have had a chance—and yet he had risen from his old life, determined and hungry for better. He had created his own empire without a single care for his social class or his chequered past.
He was the master of his own destiny.
Here, in the rosy glow of dawn, she felt utterly transformed simply by having known him. She laughed at her own thoughts. Romantic, indeed, or maybe simply foolish. Perhaps all virgins felt this way about their first lover?
How would he react to the news once he found out that her marriage was not going ahead? She imagined he would be frustrated with her—with himself. He would blame it all on their brief affair.
But, truly, Olivia wasn’t sure her decision was completely down to their night together. On some level she had known she was not destined for a loveless marriage from the moment her father had thrust the idea upon her.
No amount of loyalty to Monteverre would outweigh the value she needed to feel in herself. Roman had made her see that, somehow.
She told herself that it didn’t bother her that he was completely unaffected by their time together. She was not going to read anything into last night, and nor would she expect anything more from their liaison. He had made it very clear that he was not the kind of guy who slept with the same woman twice.
CHAPTER TEN
ROMAN HAD TOLD Jorge to take the day off, to ensure them some privacy, wanting as little intrusion as possible so that he could deal with the aftermath of their night together.
Olivia arrived down to breakfast dressed in pink. The dress had the kind of high waist and flowing, knee-length bell-shaped skirt that made her appear like something straight from a vintage movie.
She was breathtaking.
Her eyes were shuttered and her smile forced as she sat at the table across from him. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable, and his mind scrambled to find something to break the tension. In the end he accepted that there was simply nothing to say.
To his amazement, Olivia demolished two full plates of fresh fruit and a cream-drizzled pastry. She moaned as she devoured her last bite of pastry, looking up to find his eyes trained on her.
‘I was hungry,’ she said, a light blush on her cheeks.
‘I’ve seen prison inmates eat with more decorum,’ he found himself saying playfully. ‘One night with me and you’ve completely forgotten how to behave like a princess.’
Her eyes widened at his mention of last night, as though he had broken some unwritten rule by acknowledging that it had happened.
She sat back in her seat, a smile crossing her lips as she met his eyes boldly. ‘Whatever will my subjects think?’
Roman raised a brow. ‘That you’ve been taken down the path to ruin by a disreputable mongrel.’
‘Mongrel?’ She looked both amused and shocked.
‘You come from a world where breeding is everything, after all.’
‘Have we suddenly become Lady and the Tramp?’ She laughed.
‘I have no idea what that is,’ he said honestly, smiling at the look of horrified surprise on her face.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never seen such a classic. It’s wonderful—the lady dog comes from a fancy home and gets lost, and the tramp dog saves her?’
‘You are likening me to a tramp dog?’ He raised one brow in disbelief. ‘I’m flattered.’
‘You likened yourself to a mongrel—not me!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s not my fault that my brain associates everything with movies.’
‘Film and television were not a regular part of my childhood,’ he said, disliking where this conversation was headed. ‘But let me guess: they all live happily ever after at the end?’
‘Yes, exactly.’ She smiled.
‘That’s why I don’t waste my time on movies. It’s not reality.’
‘Well, of course it’s not reality.’ She laughed. ‘That’s what makes them an escape.’
Roman stood, gathering their plates and placing them less than gently into the sink. ‘You spend far too much of your time escaping real life—you know that?’ he said, knowing he had hit a nerve when he looked up and saw both of her hands balled into fists on the tabletop.
‘You’re being cruel now, and I have no idea why.’
‘This is not cruelty, Olivia,’ he said calmly. ‘You have no idea what true cruelty is. What true hardship is, even. You dislike it when people put real life in front of you—that’s your problem.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘I have no idea why you’re being like this right now. We were just talking about a movie.’
‘Life is not like the movies, and the sooner you realise it the better!’ He raised his voice, surprising himself with the force of his outburst.
Olivia stood, closing the distance between them. ‘I may not have known the kind of hardship that you have experienced in your life, but that does not negate the fact that I have feelings too.’
‘I thought it was clear that last night was not about feelings,’ he said stiffly.
‘And yet here you stand, shouting at me, when I was perfectly prepared to leave here on good terms.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s probably best that I wait outside until my helicopter arrives.’
‘You are leaving?’ he said, the words tasting like sawdust in his mouth.
‘I called the palace first thing this morning. They are sending someone to get me.’ She nodded, moving to the table to pick up her coffee cup before returning to place it in the sink.
Even with her perfect posture and impeccably coiffed hair she seemed quite at ease, clearing up after herself. Far from a domesticated goddess, but still not too far above herself to consider leaving the mess for him to clean.
He thought of their conversations the evening before, of her talk of charity work. She was not the pampered royal he’d accused her of being and it was high time he admitted it to himself.
It was easy to place her in that box—to see her as stuck up and untouchable. It made her less real. But here she was, the woman who had shattered something inside him with her lovemaking last night, all too real.
And all too ready to leave him.
He was the worst kind of bastard, he thought darkly. Khal had trusted him with this—had entrusted him with the care of the woman he hoped to spend the rest of his life with. Whether the union was cold and political or not, it did not matter. He had rationalised his actions simply because their passion had been mutual. He had got lost in the novelty of feeling so utterly out of control.
Olivia deserved more than this. She deserved more than a brief fling with a man like him. And that was all he could offer her. Once the passion wore off he would only end up hurting her when he left. Roman Lazarov did not do relationships. He did not make declarations of love and commitment or plan lifetimes together.
In the past he had never been good at returning the things he had stolen. He refused to repeat his mistakes. And yet the idea of Khal knowing what had happened made him balk. Not for himself, but for Olivia. She deserved his protection.
‘I’m coming with you,’ he said, surprising himself.
Olivia turned around, her eyes wide with confusion. ‘There is no need to escort me home, noble as it seems.’
‘This is not about being noble—it’s about being honest with Khal.’
Guilt entered her expression at the mention of the Sheikh’s name. His gut churned at the realisation that by rights he should be displaying the same emotions himself, seeing as he had spent the past twelve hours in bed with the woman his best friend hoped to marry.
‘Do you honestly want us to tell him about last night?’ she said with disbelief.
‘I will speak to him alone. There is no need for you to see him.’ He found himself saying the words—words he had meant to protect her—and yet he could tell by the dark look on her face that they had come out wrong. As usual.
‘You presume that I need you to explain on my behalf.’ Her gaze seemed to darken as he took a step closer to her. She stood tall. ‘I am quite capable of speaking for myself.’
One Night with the Forbidden Princess Page 13
