Russian's Ruthless Demand

by Michelle Conder

  ‘The kitten. I forgot to feed him last night. He’ll be starving.’

  Lukas collapsed back against the pillows. ‘Relax. I’m sure he’s gone a lot longer without food.’

  ‘He’s not going hungry on my watch.’ She stood over him and gazed at him as if in some acknowledgement that he himself had gone without food at one time and a lump formed in his throat.

  An emotion that seemed to create more pain in his chest than pleasure gripped him and he eased out a quick breath.

  Briefly he thought about pulling her back down to him and then she mentioned something about getting a cab if he was too busy. Yes, he was too busy. Too busy imagining her naked. But she wasn’t taking a cab and he told her so as he rolled out of bed and yanked his jeans on.

  She was quiet during the drive to her apartment and he wondered if she was regretting the night before. Or perhaps she was regretting being seen by the hotel staff they’d had to pass on their way to his car. His jaw clenched. It shouldn’t bother him that she relegated work above him; after all, he’d been guilty of doing the same thing with women his whole life, but for some reason it did.

  Probably because right now he had the craziest thoughts torpedoing through his brain and a knot in his belly. Crazy thoughts of Eleanore in his apartment. Eleanore in his bed. Eleanore in his life. But she was leaving. Tomorrow, in fact.

  She was busy checking her messages while he drove and suddenly a smile as big as the sun lit up her face. ‘She’s coming. She’s really coming! Isabelle’s coming!’

  Lukas frowned. That kind of dependency was dangerous and he wanted to protect her from it. ‘You know you don’t need your family to succeed, Eleanore. You’re extremely talented and capable in your own right.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Her response was clipped and he was sorry he’d interfered. And why had he? It wasn’t as if she was his responsibility, or that she had asked for his opinion.

  Brooding on that he decided to drop her at the kerbside outside her apartment and go clean up at his. But when he turned into her street there was a parking spot right outside the building. So okay, he’d walk her to her door. But then he’d leave.

  Only he didn’t leave. He followed her inside. Saw the filthy kitten that was no longer filthy but looked as if it had visited a pet day spa. The animal nuzzled her and she nuzzled it back and he felt a moment’s jealousy. Of a cat!

  ‘I should go.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. We both need to take showers and start the day. Let me feed Lucky and I’ll see you out.’

  He waited, feeling antsy.

  She walked toward him with a shy smile on her lips that made her so damn cute. ‘So, uh...’

  Lukas grabbed her and pulled her into him. ‘You mentioned a shower.’

  * * *

  The third time he woke up he was alone. It took him longer to orient himself this time because he was coming out of a sex-induced coma that seemed to suck him down deeper every time he and Eleanore made love. When he realised he’d fallen into a deep sleep in her bed he scowled.

  He thought about the conversation they’d had from the hallway to the bathroom.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?’

  She’d stiffened in his arms and he’d cursed his bluntness.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  It did but he wasn’t sure how. Other than to give him some caveman sense of pride in being the first man to touch her so intimately. The first man to give her such pleasure. The first man to join his body with hers. Not that he would be the only man to do those things, he reminded himself. When she returned to New York she’d have plenty of men after her...plenty of lovers who would kiss her and stroke her smooth skin. Plenty who would watch her as she climaxed. Lukas cleared the uncomfortable thoughts from his head.

  Naturally enough he hadn’t said any of that at the time. He’d told her that of course it didn’t matter. Well, it did, he’d said, but only in the sense that if he’d known he would have gone slower. Been more gentle. And perhaps he might not even have started anything, though there was no guarantee of that.

  ‘It was fine,’ she’d said. And then she’d frowned up at him in the bright light of the small bathroom, her hair like a tousled brown cloud around her creamy shoulders. ‘How was it for you?’

  ‘Velikolepnyy,’ he’d answered truthfully.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Magnificent.’

  And it had been true. Touching Eleanore seemed to go beyond the basic physical need for release he usually experienced with a woman. It seemed to reach into the very core of him and make him feel warm.

  He, who hadn’t noticed the cold in so very long.

  Then she’d smiled that slow, sensual smile of a woman just coming into her own power and scattered his wits like a summer breeze.

  ‘Yes, it was,’ she had said, reaching up to stroke his stubbled jaw. ‘And the other word? What is it that you call me?’

  ‘Beauty.’ He’d yanked her sweater over her head, cupped her breasts in the palms of his hands. ‘My beauty.’

  A banging sound further down the hallway brought his mind back to the present. He heard a muffled curse and smiled. Probably something to do with the cat.

  He thought about the last time he’d woken up in a woman’s bed. It wasn’t that uncommon an occurrence, though it had been a while. What was uncommon though was waking up with a woman in his arms.

  Growing up pretty much alone meant that he was used to a lot of space. And he liked it. Now he found the empty bed beside him more disconcerting than welcome and that he wanted Eleanore back in his arms.

  Clearly one night was not going to be enough to quench the fires still raging inside of him. Even now he was ready to go and that wasn’t like him at all. But okay, it was nothing to panic about. He liked Eleanore. And he really liked having sex with her.

  In fact, it was not only the best sex he’d ever had but it had been fun. What they’d done in the shower...the way she had used her mouth... He groaned. She was a fast learner and now he was hard again.

  Time to get up.

  A sweet smell greeted him as he rose from the bed. Was that...? He sniffed the air and stepped into his jeans. Was that baking? Surely a career woman like Eleanore wasn’t baking.

  He heard what sounded like the oven door slamming shut and pulled his sweater over his head. He walked into the kitchen and stopped dead.

  Eleanore was dressed in a slinky silk robe with what looked to be nothing underneath; her feet were bare and her hair was put up haphazardly with those silly chopsticks she’d had in her hair the first time he’d met her. And yes, she most definitely had been baking if the hot pan full of something on the granite bench was anything to go by.

  Lukas felt his blood chill.

  Then something soft and alive brushed his ankles and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Eleanore glanced up. She smiled when she saw him but the smile on her face dimmed just as quickly as it had appeared. ‘What is it?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  She gave a small laugh. ‘Muffins. I thought you might be hungry.’

  Muffins. Biscotti. An old need he’d had as a kid to belong rose up inside him and the knot in his belly returned. It was a need that terrified him. It whispered to him that his life wasn’t as perfect as he liked to think it was. That there was more out there. But there wasn’t. Not for him. He’d learned that the hard way.

  ‘Lukas, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I just didn’t realise you were a domestic goddess.’

  ‘A domestic goddess?’ She frowned. ‘Why does that sound like an insult?’

  ‘It’s not.’ His gaze shifted to the main door. ‘I just thought you women’s lib types would head to Starbucks instead o
f the kitchen.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Look, I have to go.’

  Eleanore stared at the man who had made love with her so completely the night before and again that morning to the point that she thought she’d expire from the bliss of it.

  It was a feeling she’d thought he had shared but now he was looking at her as if he’d like nothing more than to erase the time they’d spent together from his memory banks.

  Heat rose up in her face. It had all seemed so perfect. He had seemed so perfect. Last night he’d said he had missed her; he’d told her she was beautiful. And she’d felt so happy that she’d gotten up and baked muffins.

  Somewhere between deciding to go to bed with him and this moment she’d forgotten that last night was just a temporary hiatus for both of them.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said with a coolness she was far from feeling, ‘have you ever made a woman a cup of hot chocolate after sex?’

  His brows shot up his forehead. ‘Hot chocolate?’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ And if that didn’t stop her from wanting more from him then she didn’t know what would. ‘Well, goodbye, then. Have a great...day.’ Life. Whatever.

  Irrational emotions bloomed inside her chest and Eleanore turned away and headed toward the bank of windows in the living area. She suddenly felt lonely. Really lonely, just as she had after her mother had died.

  ‘Bozhe, Eleanore.’ He swung her toward him and hauled her into his arms before she could take a breath. Eleanore resisted. She really did. But his mouth was so hot and hungry on hers and she just ignited, her body moulding itself to his without permission from her brain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Eleanore. I don’t know what just happened. Sometimes I’m glupo. This is one of those times.’

  ‘I don’t know what glupo means.’

  ‘Stupid.’

  ‘No, I shouldn’t have expected you to stay for breakfast.’

  He kissed her again and Eleanore felt her determination to resist him crumble under the warm pressure of his skilful mouth. God, the man could kiss.

  ‘Yes, you should, but I do have to go,’ he murmured. ‘There’s a lot to do before opening night tonight.’

  ‘I know.’ Part of her had been hoping that maybe they could spend the day together given that she was flying home the next day but she wasn’t going to come across all desperate. Not when she’d woken up and thought how easy it would be to fall in love with a man like him. A man who was capable and strong and tender and so easy to talk to. Those kinds of thoughts didn’t fit into her game plan. And they obviously didn’t fit into his either. ‘I have a lot of things to do myself,’ she said. ‘But I’ll see you later on at the party, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  Eleanore stood statue still as he closed the apartment door. Then she went back to the bench and picked up a muffin. Broke a piece off. Her orange notebook lay on the small table by the window and she brushed the crumbs from her fingers and picked it up. Flipped it to the last entry. She read her current goals.

  Flipped back through her others. Every year she spent part of her New Year’s Day reassessing. Her current list hadn’t changed for three years. Before that her degree had dominated the number-one spot.

  She’d been writing down her goals ever since her mother had died. Ever since she’d arrived home from primary school and raced down to her mother’s bedroom to give her a clay bird she’d painstakingly modelled in class only to find the room empty. Sometime during the day her mother had passed away and no one had told her. Of course they’d meant to and her family made a great fuss of her afterward but the desolation of finding her mother’s bed empty and remade as if she’d never existed had never left Eleanore.

  She had felt like a little rowboat that had accidently come away from its moorings and was drifting out to sea. So she’d made a secret scrapbook about her mother and hidden it in her wardrobe and brought it out when she’d been at her lowest. Writing down the things she needed to achieve in a journal after that had been a natural progression. Reading over them had helped to ground her. Helped her to keep things real in her head. But had she become a little bit obsessive about those goals? A little bit rigid?

  ‘I must say I’m surprised to see marriage way down on your list.’ Lukas’s comment from weeks ago came back to her. He’d said it only made her more attractive to him. She went over the scene they’d just had in her kitchen. Fortunately, he wasn’t the type who would ask her to reprioritise her goals so why was she even questioning them?

  * * *

  Lukas paused behind the wheel of his car after leaving Eleanore’s apartment. What had just happened up there? One minute he’d been thinking about inviting her to spend the day with him and taking her to a couple of buildings he was thinking of purchasing for his school and the next he’d panicked. It had been those damned cookies. Or muffins or whatever the hell they were. No woman had ever baked for him other than Maria and she was sixty. She baked for anyone and everyone. When he’d found Eleanore in the kitchen looking like, yes, a domestic goddess, he’d felt special.

  He released a shaky laugh and realised that his hands were trembling. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. For all he knew Eleanore baked all the time as well and passed her wares around like confetti. She’d told him earlier on that she could cook so... He chuckled and let out a long breath.

  Special?

  What a fool.

  Clearly the sex had fried his brain cells. That was all that had just happened.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘ELEANORE, YOU’VE DONE an amazing job.’

  Eleanore beamed at Isabelle and gave her a quick hug. ‘I’m just so happy you came.’

  ‘I apologise for missing the opening of Glaciers. Work has been crazy busy.’

  ‘That’s okay. It’s water under the bridge. How’s Olivia?’

  ‘Getting married.’

  ‘I just heard! And to a Chatsfield... I can’t wait to meet him.’

  Isabelle tossed her dark hair behind her shoulder. ‘Please don’t mention that name to me. Of course I’m happy for Olivia but going to family Christmases will be untenable if Spencer happens to be there. Those ones I might have to miss.’

  ‘He still giving you grief?’

  ‘He gives me nothing but grief.’ Something sparked in her sister’s eyes but Eleanore couldn’t place it. Was it pain? Had Spencer done something to harm her?

  ‘Issy, are you okay?’

  ‘Fine. I’d rather not talk about Spencer though. I’d rather talk about your email.’

  ‘Oh, right. I was a bit fired up the day I wrote it but...’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I thought it was excellent. And you’re right. You should have more responsibilities within Harrington’s.’

  ‘Really?’ Eleanore blinked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Really.’ She paused and Eleanore could almost hear a drum roll. ‘How does Vice President of Business Development Australasia sound?’

  Eleanore nearly dropped her mocktail. ‘Come again?’

  Isabelle smiled. ‘I’m really sorry, El. I’ve been so caught up in getting the business up to speed since Dad died I should have thought of it earlier.’

  ‘Vice president...’ Eleanore grinned. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘You don’t want it?’ Isabelle teased, smoothing her hair behind her ear.

  ‘Of course I want it but...’

  Isabelle’s dark brows drew together. ‘But what?’

  Yes, Eleanore, but what?

  ‘But...’ Eleanore tried to work out the mixed emotions tumbling around inside her stomach. This was everything she had dreamed about and more and yet even now her eyes were seeking out Lukas. She hadn’t seen him since they had parted ways that morning and she’d been hoping to walk in with him
to gage his reaction to the gala opening. Watch him turn those bright blue eyes on her as he took in the bar staff and their swanky, specially lined black tie jackets, the waiters on ice skates carrying silver trays filled with canapés above their heads, and the who’s who quaffing special drinks designed by Lulu for the night.

  But he hadn’t been there and no one had seen him. A chill went down her spine at the thought that he might not show up. He would. Of course he would.

  ‘Eleanore?’ Isabelle prompted.

  She shook off her weird feelings and injected enthusiasm into her voice. ‘Will I have to move to Australia or something?’

  ‘Not necessarily but you might have to base yourself over there. I was thinking Singapore. Australasia encompasses a wide area and you’ll need to spend a fair bit of time there. We can work out the finer details later.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You are happy, aren’t you, El?’

  Eleanore smiled. ‘Of course. I’m just...overwhelmed.’ And she’d like to talk to Lukas about it. Share her news.

  ‘Tell me, how bad was it working for Lukas Kuznetskov?’

  ‘Not bad at all as it turns out. He’s different than we first thought.’

  Isabelle pulled a face. ‘I find that hard to believe. His reputation as a hard-nosed businessman precedes him.’

  ‘As yours precedes you,’ she teased her sister.

  Isabelle tossed her a rueful look. ‘I hope so. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.’

  The heaviness behind her sister’s words was impossible to miss and once again Eleanore noticed her brown eyes cloud over. ‘Okay, Isabelle, what’s up?’

  Isabelle sighed. ‘It’s just Spencer. I think he’s planning a takeover bid and I’m worried I won’t have the votes.’

  ‘How many do you have?’

  ‘Since Olivia sold me her shares I’ve got thirty-five and a half per cent. Not enough.’

  ‘Maybe I should sell you mine. That would give you forty-nine per cent.’