Alexei's Passionate Revenge

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Alexei's Passionate Revenge Page 13

by Helen Bianchin


  Alexei just kept walking.

  She bore his silence for several long minutes, then she launched a punch into his ribcage...with no physical reaction whatsoever.

  ‘Alexei, slow down,’ she demanded. Causing a public scene had never been on her agenda...waiting a beat before adding, ‘Please.’

  ‘Will you behave?’ His anger was quiet...too quiet. She drew in a deep breath, aware in a moment of clarity just how ridiculous it was to attempt to best him.

  Temporary capitulation was the only option as she released her breath and briefly inclined her head. Relieved as he finally slowed down and released her hand.

  There was wisdom in silence, and she refrained from uttering a further word until they reached their hotel. Together they crossed the marble-tiled foyer to the bank of elevators, all too aware the air between them could be cut with a knife.

  Tall, dark, and silent, Alexei resembled a dangerous force as electronic doors opened, and two other couples followed them in.

  Natalya deliberately looked straight ahead, ignoring him until the elevator reached their floor, choosing to walk ahead of him along the carpeted passageway to their suite, swiped the room card and she took three steps into the lounge before swinging round to face him.

  ‘I want out.’ Anger was a palpable entity she barely managed to control. She indicated the desk. ‘My formal resignation will be there in the morning.’ It provided a measure of satisfaction to turn her back and walk towards her suite.

  Right at that moment she didn’t give a damn.

  She was done. With him, the situation she’d been manipulated into...all of it.

  ‘I didn’t figure you for a coward.’

  Alexei’s voice reached her as she was about to open the door to her suite, and she turned to spare him a scorching glare.

  ‘Why? Because you kissed me?’

  ‘You were with me every step of the way,’ he offered quietly.

  ‘I’m no longer the girl you once knew,’ she retaliated.

  ‘No?’

  ‘You saw to that.’

  His eyes darkened, sharpened. ‘Enlighten me...how?’

  ‘There’s no point to this conversation.’

  His entire stance stilled. ‘I think there’s every point.’

  Natalya suddenly felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, poised between the need to lash out in anger...or live to regret not imparting fact...as she knew it?

  She tensed, every muscle in her body tightening as she recalled in minute detail the devastating discovery he’d disappeared out of her life.

  ‘You left without a word. I called you. Many times. I made enquiries... “The line has been disconnected.” I checked your apartment, hospitals, any and everyone I could think of who might have a clue to your whereabouts.’ She tamped down the helplessness, and resorted to anger. ‘I sent you texts. Emails. Desperately pleading for an answer. An explanation.’

  She clenched each hand into a fist, felt her nails dig in each palm...and didn’t even feel the painful sensation. ‘Anyone who could tell me whether you were alive or dead.’

  The pain of him leaving her...even after five years, was still there...raw, aching, like a wound that had never truly healed.

  Anger rose to the surface. ‘Do you know what it’s like to wake each day...and hope today a call, text or email could ease the heartache? God willing in the best way possible? Only to fade into despair? Until eventually there’s a need to accept whatever path you thought your life would take no longer existed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She couldn’t stop until she said it all. ‘Worse, the agony of not knowing what went wrong? Why texts and emails remained unanswered?’ She took a deep breath. ‘To consider the worst scenario in each of many guises?’

  He moved towards her and closed his hands over her shoulders. ‘Back up a little,’ he demanded quietly.

  Her eyes blazed in anger. ‘Why?’

  The ensuing silence became electric, and she closed her eyes in an effort to shut him out...only to have them widen as he took hold of her chin and tilted it.

  She opened her mouth to berate him, except no word emerged as he pressed it closed.

  ‘I didn’t receive any texts or letters.’

  She tore his hand away. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

  He stilled, his features hardening as a muscle clenched at the edge of his jaw. ‘I left messages on your answering machine. Texts.’ His eyes darkened. ‘Are you saying they never reached you?’

  The colour fled from her cheeks as uncertainty left her temporarily speechless. ‘No,’ she managed as her mind reeled. ‘Nothing,’ she said in a shocked whisper.

  First and foremost, how it could have happened, followed seconds later by why?

  She was reluctant to explore who, for it appeared highly unlikely anyone had access to her laptop, smartphone, snail mail.

  Except...memory resurfaced in minute detail...her move to another apartment building, misplacing her smartphone, her father’s decision to replace all their phones, both business and personal, with a different provider and new numbers. As well as a new email address for a reason that appeared valid at the time.

  When?

  Years ago. Her mind momentarily retraced the events back then, examined each sequence in detail, unaware of Alexei’s narrowed scrutiny as he witnessed every fleeting emotion on her expressive features...and caught the moment she realised she had stepped into an unbelievable nightmare. Surely...it couldn’t coincide...except it did.

  Her father.

  ‘How could he do such a thing?’ Natalya’s voice was an agonising whisper.

  ‘Roman wanted you to marry up. I didn’t come close to being a prospective candidate.’

  ‘Tell me.’ Her voice was calm...too calm. ‘I need to hear what my father did. All of it.’

  She deserved the truth...which he whittled down to essential detail. Leaving out his emotional turmoil, anger. Worse, the desperate need to discover why.

  ‘Roman demanded I end my relationship with you, and presented me with a substantial cheque in a pay off. I tore it up.’

  For the love of heaven. That her father would dare to go to such lengths to destroy their relationship was unconscionable. Unforgivable.

  The disbelief, the silent anger.

  The loss of five years of their lives.

  Dear heaven, her miscarriage.

  Natalya felt a cold hand clutch her stomach.

  Sickened, almost literally, she briefly closed her eyes in an effort to retain a sense of calm. Opening them again, her eyes pierced his own, held steady, controlled...when inside she felt like screaming.

  ‘He fired you, didn’t he.’ A statement, not a question. ‘And threatened to make it impossible for you to get a position with any electronics firm in the country.’ Her eyes locked with his own as she sought confirmation.

  He didn’t confirm or deny it...but then he didn’t have to. The truth was there. Ugly, untenable, damning.

  Did she realise how well he could read her? See the silent rage simmering beneath the surface?

  She closed her eyes as Alexei reached for her and drew her close. There was magic in his touch, the way his lips sought the sensitive curve of her neck, savoured there, then he gently traced a path up to settle in the sweet hollow beneath her earlobe.

  Evocative eroticism stirred something deep inside and spread through her body in sweet sorcery, dispensing with inhibitions and making her want so much more.

  A faint groan emerged from her throat as he lifted and carried her into the bedroom.

  He felt the warmth of her silent tears seep through his shirt, and brushed a kiss to the top of her head.

  With care he slid her down his body to stand on her feet, and his g
aze held her own as he carefully removed each item of clothing from her body.

  She felt the warmth of his fingers as they trailed up her ribcage and unclipped her bra. Free, her breasts burgeoned in anticipation as he cupped each mound, and she bit back a gasp as his fingers sought the delicate peaks, traced them until they hardened beneath his touch.

  Sensation arrowed deep inside, and she couldn’t utter a word in protest as he lowered his head to one breast and took its peak into his mouth to lave it with his tongue.

  Liquid fire coursed through her veins, heating her body to a point of madness.

  Almost as if he knew, he lowered her evening trousers, traced a path up the inside of each thigh and sought the throbbing clitoris...brushing his fingers against the sensitive folds as she arched against him, unaware of the whispering plea emerging from her throat.

  She was beyond sanity, filled with an aching need for his possession.

  His clothes became an unwanted intrusion and were quickly discarded as they sought to touch, explore, as she became lost in the delight of tracing warm flesh, tight musculature, the sheer strength of his arousal.

  She didn’t want to wait. Wasn’t aware of her soft cries as he inserted a finger into the damp warmth between her thighs and skilfully brought her to orgasm, absorbing her guttural cry as she shattered.

  It wasn’t enough. She needed more, so much more, and he knew, teasing a little, taking time to lay his mouth against her own in a slow kiss that became sensual foreplay as she met and matched everything he gifted...then she gasped as he used a hand to pull aside the bed covers and lower her down onto the sheeted mattress.

  She kissed him, teasing as he had teased her, and explored his body with light kisses, circling the tight masculine nipples, using her teeth to nip, the slide of her lips to soothe, before trailing to his navel, delicately laved it, before she turned her attention to the thick jutting arousal pulsing beneath her touch as she stroked its length with her tongue, reacquainting herself with its shape and throbbing size...heard his husky groan, and delighted in his throaty you’re killing me an instant before firm hands took hold of her hips and eased her onto her back, holding her hands fast above her head as he trailed a path down the quivering flesh of her stomach. Lower, and she cried out as he suckled the damp flesh, nipped the sensitive folds with care, then used his tongue to send her mindless.

  Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, and she gasped as he shifted over her and drove in deep, held still as she absorbed him, then he gently rocked, lengthening his thrusts until she reached the edge and came, as he did in unison, and there was only the euphoric ecstasy of two lovers in perfect accord...mind, body, heart and soul as they gave everything there was to gift...before easing down to the sweet exhaustion of sexual fulfilment.

  ‘Amazing,’ Natalya whispered, and felt his lips drift gently over her skin, soothing her rapid pulse-beats, before exploring her lips, caressing with such tenderness she fought to hold back tears.

  Lost, so completely lost in him, there was no sense of time or place. Only the need to cling to the pulsing thrum deep inside her body, and exult in sexual nirvana.

  The musky scent of sensual heat combined with the dawning knowledge they’d just shared unprotected sex...

  Dear heaven, what had she done?

  They, she corrected silently. There were two of them in this bed, two who had seduced, shared, and exulted in their mutual passion.

  Alexei caught each fleeting expression as the reality widened her eyes, the brief few startled seconds as her eyelids shuttered closed, only to open again as instinct kicked in together with a sense of déjà vu. Unfounded, according to rapid silent calculation.

  She pushed at him, endeavouring to escape without success as he caged her in, his eyes dark as the blackest slate as he took in her expression.

  Without a word Alexei rolled off the bed, scooped Natalya into his arms and walked into the en suite bathroom, turned on the shower and carried her beneath the pulsing water, collected the liquid soap, and began smoothing the lightly scented fragrance over her body in a slow sensuous slide that drove her wild...wanting, needing to respond in kind. His mouth curved into a sensual smile. ‘Patience. You’ll have your turn.’

  She did. Eventually. Only it took a while. And later, towelled dry, he took her to bed, drew her close in against him.

  She couldn’t find the words—not the right ones. The extent of Roman’s intervention devastated her, and merely confirmed the extent her father was prepared to go to in order to rule not only his company, but his family.

  ‘There’s something you should know,’ Natalya said quietly. At the time she’d borne the heartache in the light of day, and let the tears fall during the dark of night when she was alone. Until there were no more tears to shed, and she gathered the resolve to get on with her life.

  ‘I discovered I was pregnant.’ She faltered in an effort to find the right words, and her mouth trembled as his hands shaped her face. His eyes were dark, silently questioning, and she couldn’t look away.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Her features paled, her eyes dark with an edge of pain, and he swore softly beneath his breath.

  ‘I drove to your apartment after work.’

  A lump rose in her throat, momentarily preventing speech, and she swallowed compulsively in an effect to allow her voice to emerge. ‘You weren’t there.’ The words tumbled out. ‘I rang your phone. No answer.’

  Alexei stilled, his eyes almost black. ‘When did you ring?’ His voice was hard, urgent. ‘What time?’

  ‘Is time so important?’

  ‘Yes.’ He bunched his hands into fists. ‘Dammit.’ Yet he already knew. ‘Think...please,’ he added in a strained voice.

  ‘After six...maybe six-thirty.’

  He closed his eyes briefly in silent anguish at the hand of Fate. Ten...fifteen minutes after the police had taken him from his apartment, arrested by the hand of her father. His phone confiscated.

  ‘Theos.’ The soft imprecation left his lips with the realisation she’d had to cope without his knowledge, or the benefit of his support.

  Silent anger consumed him, together with the imminent need to take Roman Montgomery apart with his bare hands.

  Her words hurt like a stab to the heart as memory surfaced in vivid Technicolor detail.

  The anger...helpless rage at Roman Montgomery’s manipulative machinations.

  Natalya felt his lips rest against her forehead, then trail gently down her cheek to rest at the edge of her mouth, soothing the trembling seam as he held her close.

  Roman, Natalya determined fiercely, was about to be called to account. She’d call and invite him to share lunch with her, then calmly...surely she could do calm several hours from now?

  ‘He’s going to pay.’

  ‘Natalya,’ Alexei cautioned, and she shook her head.

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  But he did. All too well. The silent rage that had almost destroyed him, the desire to succeed beyond measure.

  Not the least of it, to throw that success in Roman’s face. As he had with deliberate intent, using his business nous to prove he could. Then plotted his revenge against the man who’d wielded God-like power...using Natalya as a weapon.

  Ill-founded, as he discovered...and beat down the rage simmering beneath the surface.

  How could a father do that to his own daughter?

  As easily as Roman succeeded in deceiving his own wife. A self-absorbed narcissist who put his own needs first and foremost...without exception.

  Alexei wanted to slam a fist against something...for a few brief seconds he almost did. Just for the hell of it.

  Almost as if she knew, she lifted a hand to his cheek.

  ‘Natalya...’

  Her eyes seared his
own, steady, obdurate. ‘There’s nothing you can say to stop me confronting my father.’

  He waited a beat, then offered quietly, ‘Think it through,’ he advised gently, and watched her eyes narrow.

  ‘He doesn’t deserve consideration.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THERE WAS A need for planned strategy. An assemblage of irrefutable facts. Cool, sans anger. Absence of a public scene.

  In Roman’s true sense of style, he’d vetoed a small restaurant in favour of one of his favoured upmarket haunts noted for its fine cuisine.

  Natalya entered the boutique restaurant several minutes past the appointed time, for, in truth, she wanted her father to be seated and waiting.

  It helped that he was there, charming the wait staff in his typical style. The smile, a flirting tease in his eyes...just enough not to offend, but holding a silent invitation, should it be accepted.

  Natalya touched a hand to Roman’s shoulder to catch his attention, and he turned at once, offering a warm greeting as he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  ‘Darling girl.’ Ever the showman, he gave the waitress a knowing smile. ‘Better late than never.’

  Did he ever stop? And to think she’d always put his teasing down to his consummate charm.

  ‘Have the sommelier choose the finest champagne and have it brought to the table,’ he instructed the waitress in a grandiose manner, ‘A celebration.’

  He might think otherwise by the time their meal concluded.

  ‘Problem with traffic?’ Roman enquired as Natalya slid into the chair opposite.

  ‘Parking,’ Natalya enlightened, and when the champagne was presented, checked, approved and opened she instructed, ‘Just a small amount. I have to work this afternoon.’

  She waited, sipped superb champagne and exchanged small-talk as she selected an entree, refused a main, and settled for a lemon sorbet to follow.

  The waitress served coffee, and Natalya added milk, sat back and mentally directed...now.

  She kept it brief, citing irrefutable fact with admirable restraint...and took some satisfaction as her father stiffened, blustered a little, then paled as she relayed knowledge of each pertinent detail...the coincidence of her lost smartphone and its replacement with a different provider and new number.

 

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