Daniil was relieved when she didn’t jump. For a moment he considered taking her to the ballet but soon decided against it. He didn’t want to give the false impression that this was about anything other than sex.
Still, it surprised him that he’d even considered it so he quickly changed the subject.
‘Tell me more about your studios.’
‘There’s not much more to tell.’
‘Have you spoken to the bank?’
Libby gave a small grimace. ‘I’m doing that this afternoon.’
‘Are you prepared for them?’
‘I think so,’ she said, and went a bit pink. ‘Actually, last night I was going to sit down and work out figures.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I’d far rather talk about wolves...’
‘I know that you would but you need to sort this out.’
‘Do you always hold a business meeting with your lovers the next morning?’
‘The scatty ones, yes,’ he said, and didn’t reveal that any conversation was rare the next morning. ‘You are too vague. I think you are leaning towards the one in the East End and that would be a mistake.’
‘Er, I have given this some thought. The one near here charges four times the rent. I can hardly quadruple my prices.’
‘No, but if you can double your number of students you only have to charge double the fee. It’s maths.’
‘Perhaps but there’s only one of me.’
‘So you might get a senior to take some of the juniors.’
‘Oh, so you’re an expert in ballet?’
‘No,’ Daniil calmly responded to her slightly sarcastic tone. ‘I’m an expert in business.’
She frowned. She’d have thought he only knew about massive conglomerates but as he spoke on, more and more it seemed that he understood what she would be dealing with if she opened her own dance school.
In fact, he hit several points that Libby had been hoping she could gloss over when she spoke with the bank.
‘The poorer suburb that you are talking about—I doubt there would be a lot of spare money for dance classes and costumes.’
‘Dance should be available to everyone.’
‘Please.’ Now it was Daniil who rolled his eyes. ‘If that’s your aim then go and hire a hall and give it away for free. What if you get a child with real talent and her parents can’t afford the extra classes?’
Libby lay there.
She didn’t have to tell him her answer. Of course, she would give the child free lessons—how could she not?
‘Now,’ Daniil continued, ‘around here they could afford it. Even for the fat kid with no talent the parents will pay through the nose...’
He was cruel, he was abrasive but, damn him, he was right.
‘Here you could hold adult classes during the day, lunchtime ones—people are trying to squeeze exercise into their days. What were the premises used as previously?’
‘The one near here was used for yoga and the other a ballet and jazz school.’
‘Ask the agents why they closed down. I know you dismissed that yesterday but it is a very important question you must ask and take careful note of the answer.’
‘I shall.’
‘Are you putting your own savings into it?’
Libby’s snort told him that she had none. ‘No, just my talent and enthusiasm...’ She let out a sigh. ‘I haven’t a hope with the bank.’
‘Go and have a shower,’ he said. ‘I’ll make a drink.’
He didn’t join her.
Deliberately.
There was something about sex in the morning that was a touch too intimate for Daniil, but as she climbed out of bed and stretched again he wanted to break his own rule.
Even his bathroom was sexy, Libby thought as she stepped inside.
It wasn’t warm and inviting, but it was decadent all the same.
It was tiled in white and one wall was a mirror, set back in the middle and angled so that she could see her body from every direction. No, it wasn’t ballet exercises she envisaged as she stood there—instead, it was her and Daniil in this space.
Behind a glass wall were towels as thick as pillows. He had an array of toiletries and Libby spent a few giddy moments opening lids and inhaling his scent. At first she wondered where the shower was but when she flicked a button she soon found out that water came from a long rod set in the ceiling and shot in strong jets at her from every direction.
It was utter bliss and she stood for perhaps a while longer than one usually would in the circumstances and then she turned the water off and wrapped herself in one of his fluffy towels. She would have loved to have simply padded out and back to his bed.
Instead, she used all his lotions, not just for the luxurious feel of them on her skin and in her hair, more that for the entire day she would have a little of the scent of him.
‘That,’ Libby said, as she came into the kitchen, dressed as she had been last night but now all damp and pink, ‘was the nicest shower I have ever had.’
‘Good,’ he said, handing her a drink.
He had made her a frothy coffee and Libby added sugar and saw that Daniil drank black tea with the bag still in the cup.
As she perched on a bar stool he stood leaning against a counter, and it was awkward between them for the first time.
‘You should have take-out cups so that you can avoid the small talk,’ Libby commented, and he even managed a small smile.
‘I don’t normally do coffee.’
‘Well, I’ll consider it a compliment, then,’ she said. She made it halfway down her mug before the awkwardness became too much for her, and deciding that it really was time to go she hopped down from the bar stool. ‘If I want to get there before ten, I’d better head off.’
Daniil waited for one of two questions—for Libby to ask if he’d given any more thought to attending his parents’ anniversary celebration.
Or if they might see each other again.
‘I can have you driven or a taxi,’ Daniil offered.
‘No, thanks,’ she said, because that would mean she wouldn’t need to leave for a while and it was already tense between them.
Why did it have to be like this? she wondered.
It just did.
She’d heeded the warnings and had gone into it with her eyes wide-open, if a touch dilated by lust. No, she didn’t want him down on one knee, begging her not to go, but the ending of them was, for Libby, harder than she could ever have anticipated when she had accepted his invitation to bed.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said. She came around the kitchen bench and whether he wanted one or not she gave him a kiss on his cheek.
Even his clenched jaw was sexy, she thought. She wanted to rub her lips over his rough chin but she restrained herself.
A bit.
Well, no, she didn’t, she did exactly that. She wanted to coil around him and live on his hips, she thought as she inhaled his heady scent. She’d be no trouble at all, he could carry on with his day and just give her the odd glass of water and bar of chocolate.
‘What’s funny?’ Daniil said, as she pulled her head back.
‘The things that I think.’
She walked out with barely a sound and gave him a half-wave as she let herself out of the door and he stood there, waiting for her to turn around.
Oh, I was just wondering if you’d given it any more thought...
She didn’t.
You know you mentioned Firebird, well, maybe we could...
She didn’t suggest that they see each other again, either.
He heard the door close and at fifteen minutes to nine, some fourteen hours and forty-five minutes after they had met, Libby Tennent was gone.
* * *
Libby sat on the underground on the way to her appointment with the estate agent.
She was back to reality but after last night she knew she was changed forever.
Oh, she knew her mother would faint if she told her what she had got up to and her sensible older sister probably would, too. Then again, they’d always thought she had her head on backwards.
And her father?
Well, he’d thoroughly disapprove, of course, and then after ten minutes of sulking would be wondering how it might benefit the family business.
She was sick of it.
Guilt ridden with it, too.
Yes, she had begged for extra lessons, for private tuition, and the business had, of course, funded that, but did it mean she now had to work for him, doing something she didn’t love?
Had it all been conditional on her making it to number one for their investment in her to count?
Couldn’t she just love what she did?
Coming out of the underground her phone rang and Libby saw that it was her father. She would have preferred not to have answered but given his accident yesterday she felt she ought to. ‘How are you this morning?’ Libby asked.
‘Pretty bruised,’ Lindsey said. ‘Did you get anywhere at all with Zverev?’
‘Nowhere,’ she answered. Well, yes, technically she lied, but she was hardly going to let her father know just how far she’d actually gone! ‘Dad, I think you’ve just got to accept that he isn’t going to go...’
‘But—’
‘It’s not up to us to persuade him, Dad,’ Libby said, and she was firmer than she usually was with him. ‘And if your entire business is reliant on him attending then I think you’ve got bigger things that need to be faced.’
‘Elizabeth!’
‘Well, it’s true,’ she said.
‘If things go well with this then I’ll be back in the game. And if you came on board...’
She closed her eyes as the same old argument was raised. They had never taken her dancing seriously, they had considered it a phase, an expensive hobby that they had indulged her in, and now it was time to pay them back.
‘Libby, what are you doing, looking at dance schools when you’re needed here? We’ve done all we can to support your dancing but clearly it hasn’t worked out...’
The tiny paper cuts her family delivered over and over hurt.
Okay, maybe she hadn’t made it to the top, maybe she’d never been cut out to be a soloist, but didn’t any of her career count to them?
‘Dancing still is my career.’
‘Even when your family needs you? Look, if you can’t help us out there then at least go and speak with Zverev again...use your charm, smile that smile.’
Now at least he was being a little more honest, though it had taken Daniil to get her to fully see that her father had been hoping that a woman might make more headway with Daniil than he could.
‘It’s not going to happen, Dad—I shan’t be seeing Daniil again. So maybe you should contact the Thomases and let them know that their son isn’t going to be attending their anniversary celebration.’
Libby turned off the phone and got back to daydreaming about Daniil and trying to fathom how at twenty-five she’d possibly already had the best night of her life.
His little pep talk about business, however unwelcome at the time, did help today though.
The first studio she saw was perfect! There were huge mirrored walls and the floor space was amazing. There was a small kitchenette, a nice-size changing room...
‘What happened to the last business?’ Libby asked.
‘I’m not sure.’ The agent was evasive. ‘I think she retired.’
Hmm.
Back to the Land of Daniil she went and met with the second agent.
This studio was smaller but the floor space was enough and there was also a little waiting area that hopefully she could lock the parents into so they didn’t interfere!
‘What happened to the last business?’ Libby asked.
‘Yoga,’ the agent said. ‘They moved to new premises, a converted warehouse, as they needed more space.’
Oh, it made sense to go there, but the bank wasn’t going to listen to her, Libby was sure.
‘I’ve got another woman coming for a second look tomorrow,’ the agent said. ‘She’s very keen.’
Libby shrugged but her heart leaped in her throat.
She wanted this place very badly.
She thanked the agent and he locked up and got into his car and she stood awhile longer, peering through the window, desperate for her dream to live here.
‘Well?’
She jumped at the sound of that gorgeous, low, chocolaty voice.
‘Daniil!’ She turned and gave him a wide smile. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’
‘I have been,’ he said, and then handed her a large creamy envelope with the Zverev name embossed in gold on the corner. ‘This is for you.’
‘Oh, God, did you mark my performance last night?’ she exclaimed. ‘Did my knees crack...?’
She made herself laugh but he didn’t join her. ‘It was a joke...’ she started, but then her voice trailed off as she opened the envelope and read what was written.
‘Oh, my!’
She had a business plan.
A real one.
It went into demographics of the area, mean ages, average incomes and things she’d never have thought of. He’d even put things like expected revenue from the vending machine that it looked as if she’d be getting and the cost of hiring mirrors.
Everything had been taken into account.
‘I’m not asking for this much!’ Libby yelped when she saw the figure he had suggested the bank give her for a loan.
‘You don’t have to spend it, but it is something to factor in if you get sick or you get so busy that you have to hire another teacher.’
There were pages and pages of it.
All the little throwaway stuff she’d told him, about her career, her study, was all neatly referenced and then he’d added that in his opinion the proposed business model was an extremely viable one and it was signed with his lovely expensive signature.
And that if they required more information, they could contact him.
Oh, my!
This would have cost her thousands to have done privately. In fact, it wouldn’t have happened, because there was no way Daniil Zverev would have done this for her if she’d stepped in from the street.
Which she had.
Sort of.
‘You’ll get the loan.’
He sounded so sure that Libby was starting to believe that she would. That he had spent the morning doing this for her almost blew her away, but instead she put her arms around his neck and held on tight to the lovely anchor of him.
‘I have to kiss you!’
He lifted her up so she could do so. He was just so big and strong and sexy as hell and his jaw less rigid than this morning as she ran her lips over it. His mouth was receptive, taking her kiss, returning it fiercely, but only for a moment because, though holding her, he peeled his face back from her liberal display of affection.
‘Thank you,’ Libby said.
‘You’re welcome.’
She didn’t want to come back to planet earth but he placed her back on it.
‘I have to go now.’
And just like that he did, leaving her standing there, reeling.
Excited, elated and back to the agony of his leaving, which was worse the second time around.
He’d broken their unspoken rule.
Libby had been set to get on with her life, to determinedly not contact him and to expect nothing more from their one night.
He’d given her more than a business pl
an, Libby thought.
Daniil Zverev had given her hope for them—that she might see him again, that last night had meant more to him, too.
And that was scary.
CHAPTER FIVE
DANIIL STARED AT the phone.
His mind was finally made up.
Almost.
He was leaning towards going to his parents’ anniversary party, which was being held next weekend.
The ongoing pressure from Lindsey Tennent had had nothing to do with his change of heart. Lindsey had today called Reception twice, using different names, in an effort to be put through to him. One call had made it as far as Cindy but she had quickly seen through him.
Daniil re-read the invitation: To Daniel Thomas.
Reverting to his own name had been the final straw that had caused his parents to disown him. They had taken it as a personal affront and had said that, in doing so, he not only shamed them but it was a smack in the face for all they had done for him. They had refused to listen to his reasoning and, for Daniil, it had actually come as a relief when they had said that they wanted nothing more to do with him.
It had suited him, in fact.
The occasional visits he used to make at Christmas and for birthdays were excruciating at best, for all concerned. He could feel the strain from the moment he walked in and there was a sigh of relief that had reverberated from everyone when the duty visit was over and done, till the next time.
No, it wasn’t a moral debt or his conscience that had Daniil changing his mind. He had a question for his parents and he wanted an honest answer. He might not get one, but he would be able to know if they were lying if the question was asked face to face.
Did you mail the letters I wrote to Roman?
He was sure that they hadn’t, but that realisation had come a long time after the letters had been penned. At first Daniil had believed his parents when they had said that the post was very slow. They had also suggested, when still no letter had come, that maybe his brother was still angry at him and they would point to Daniil’s cheek. That had made no sense because Daniil was quite sure now that the fight had been Roman’s attempt to force him to leave the orphanage.
The Price of His Redemption Page 6
