by Lynne Graham
Alissa assumed it was a polite lie, but she was impressed by his inventiveness when put on the spot. She reckoned that the presence of her mother at her own bogus wedding would only make the occasion more of a strain. When it occurred to her that she was already in the very act of deceiving her mother, guilt pierced her deep.
Sergei then went on to suggest that he and Alissa should have a church blessing, followed by a party at which he could meet Alissa’s friends and family, in London the following month. Her mother’s disappointed face slowly warmed to that prospect and it was easy to tell from the suggestions she went on to make for the event that she was, not only charmed by the idea, but also equally charmed by the man who had voiced it.
When the meal was over, Alissa opted to return home with her mother. Sergei’s steely glance warned her that he was displeased by that choice, but Alissa had no intention of spending time alone with him at his penthouse. Their marriage was supposed to be a legal arrangement and a job, nothing more, and if she wanted him to respect those boundaries she needed to keep some distance between them. In addition, Alissa was in no hurry to return to Alexa’s apartment laden with piles of expensive clothes that would be likely to awaken her twin’s bitter envy again.
‘I expected to see you again before the wedding,’ Sergei revealed, standing on the pavement beside the Mercedes that contained Alissa’s mother and awaited Alissa.
‘I’m sorry—I’d like to spend some time at home before I go to Russia.’ Pale and taut, Alissa collided head on with smouldering dark golden eyes heavily fringed with lush black lashes. Her tummy flipped as if she had been flung up in the air. Surely no man had ever had such compellingly beautiful eyes? Her fingers clenched into her palms as she stepped back from Sergei, uneasily aware of the phalanx of bodyguards hovering around them.
‘You make it sound so reasonable, milaya.’ Sergei reached out and closed a hand round hers as she brushed a skein of gold silky hair back from her brow. He eased her inexorably closer. ‘But you know that’s not what I want.’
The lashes above her aquamarine eyes fluttered down to conceal her strained gaze. Her heart was racing like an overwound clock behind her breastbone. His mesmeric pull was almost more than she could bear. Even the timbre of his rich dark drawl slivered through her like the lick of a flame. But that tide of physical response infuriated her and stung her pride.
‘Surely there’s some part of the day when I can have my own free time?’ Alissa queried, throwing her blonde head high, a gleam of challenge in her bright eyes.
‘Your own free time?’ Sergei countered, his lean dark features tensing.
‘Isn’t this a job? I can’t be on duty twenty-four-seven.’
Sergei froze, all warmth ebbing from his gaze leaving it winter-dark and cold. In that instant she could have done nothing more offensive than voice a cool and emotionless reminder of the legal agreement that had brought them together He marvelled that for a little while he had somehow contrived to forget that fact. Her words had grated on him, striking the hard calculating note that he was all too accustomed to hearing from her sex. Evidently he had not yet been generous enough to keep her sweet.
‘I don’t think you can have read the small print on your contract,’ he breathed in an icy cutting tone of distaste. ‘From the moment you wear my wedding ring, you will be on duty twenty-four-seven.’
Sergei walked away, leaving Alissa paralysed on the pavement with nervous tension. She was torn between regret and relief. A terrifying part of her wanted to run after him, to douse the aggression she had awakened and luxuriate in the kiss that she had subconsciously longed to receive. But the rest of her rejoiced in saying no to that weaker part of her nature. She wasn’t a toy for him to play with as and when he fancied. She was too proud and intelligent to behave like the women who had fawned on him at his club the night when they’d first met, wasn’t she? But just at that moment pride was a cold companion filling her with disappointment rather than a sense of achievement…
Chapter Four
WHEN Alissa returned from her walk, Alexa, her face flushed with annoyance, pounced on her twin the moment she entered the house. ‘Where have you been?’
‘You were still in bed when I got up. I had a few things to buy and then I went for a walk…’
‘A walk?’ Alexa wailed in disbelief. ‘You’re flying to Russia this afternoon and all you can think to do with yourself is go for a stupid walk?’
Alissa compressed her lips. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be away. I’ll miss this place.’
‘Mum came home at lunchtime. She’s guessed where we got the money from!’ her sister told her abruptly.
Alissa studied her twin in dismay. ‘How could she possibly have guessed?’
‘Naturally she doesn’t know about the marriage-as-a-job angle,’ Alexa breathed impatiently. ‘But even though I’m the one who gave the money to the solicitor, she’s convinced that you must have got the money from Sergei to pay off Dad.’
Alissa groaned. ‘My goodness, how am I supposed to talk my way out of that?’
‘Well, you don’t need to bother. Sergei’s loaded and he’s about to become Mum’s son-in-law and one of the family. I said that he’d given the money to you and it was up to you what you did with it. I talked her out of phoning him to discuss it.’
Alexa’s ability to talk her way out of a tight corner was legendary. Alissa regarded her with wry bemusement.
Her twin widened scornful aquamarine eyes. ‘So once again, you didn’t need to do anything; I saved the day.’
Anger flashed through Alissa and she had to grit her teeth to hold it back. In spite of the fact that Alexa was marrying Harry in twenty-four hours, her sister was behaving as though she were the wronged party. ‘No, I’m the one saving the day this time around,’ Alissa contradicted. ‘You signed the contract in my name without my knowledge, but I’m marrying Sergei.’
‘Whoopee-do, and what a sacrifice that is!’ Alexa exclaimed with stinging derision. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous, fantastically rich and incredibly generous. Look at the presents he keeps on sending you, never mind the flowers! Anyone would be forgiven for thinking you’re marrying him for real tomorrow.’
Her face tight with discomfiture, Alissa went upstairs to escape the argument. It hurt to be at odds with her twin, to be forced to accept that Alexa’s love of money and luxury currently seemed more important to her than Harry, or even her baby. Over the past five days, Sergei had sent Alissa flowers every morning as well as several unexpected gifts. Alissa wondered if he was trying to convince her mother that they were a normal bride and groom, for she couldn’t think of any other reason for his munificence. She was now the bemused owner of a diamond-studded watch, an extensive set of designer luggage and a diamond solitaire ring that had made Alexa so jealous she had snapped at Harry when he had collected her for their wedding rehearsal that same evening.
Was Sergei simply getting into the role of keen bridegroom? He had phoned her every day as well. But he talked as though words came at a premium price that he was too stingy to pay. He would mention briefly that he was in New York or had just closed a deal, or he would talk about his football club or the players. Alissa found herself chattering about nothing in particular to fill the awkward lulls and afterwards she would cringe at the memory of her more inane comments. And, sometimes, Sergei would ask questions that were more terrifying than encouraging.
‘How many men have you had in your life?’ had been one blunt and bold enquiry that had shaken her.
‘One or two,’ she had told him grudgingly and, to punish him for his inappropriate curiosity, she had counter-attacked with, ‘Have you ever been in love?’
‘That is when you get excessively attached to one woman? No, I’ve never even come close,’ he had informed her with a distinct note of satisfaction, as if falling in love was something real men didn’t do.
‘Then why did you get married that first time?’ she had heard herself demand before she c
ould think better of getting so personal—especially when she was trying to set an example by being impersonal with him.
A yawning, uneasy silence had greeted her query.
‘She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,’ he had finally imparted in a discouragingly gritty response. But that’s so superficial, Alissa had wanted to tell him, though the tense atmosphere had kept her quiet.
Those phone conversations had brought Alissa no nearer to knowing the man she had agreed to marry. If anything he had become more of an enigma than ever. He could be very unpredictable. He was still a closed book in every way that mattered and curiosity was starting to kill her. She needed to know what made Sergei Antonovich tick, what made him angry, what made him happy. With each day that passed the big black hole of her ignorance only irritated her more.
That afternoon, Alissa parted from her mother and her sister in the privacy of their home. Alexa was brittle and moody and Alissa wished her twin and her prospective bridegroom well before she left alone for the airport. Of course, while she was involved with Sergei she could never be truly alone, because he had insisted that she accept the presence of a pair of bodyguards, who had collected her from home.
Her mobile phone rang on the journey. When she answered it, she was taken aback to hear her father’s voice. ‘Your mother told me at the weekend that you’re leaving this afternoon. I’m at the airport and I need to talk to you—’
‘At the airport?’ Alissa repeated in surprise.
‘Meet me for coffee,’ Maurice Bartlett urged. ‘I’m only here to see you. It feels like half a lifetime since we last met.’
The formalities of travel complete, Alissa, a slim elegant figure clad in a full length black coat and boots, went to meet her father. When he saw her he rose from his table and hurried into the concourse to greet her. As he approached her her bodyguards came between them.
‘It’s okay. I know him. You can take a break,’ Alissa urged her bodyguards in some embarrassment, making vague shooing motions with her hands as if she were dealing with a flock of hens.
The two men exchanged uneasy glances and backed off with reluctance. Appraising her troubled face with a frown, Maurice Bartlett closed both his hands round hers as if he feared she might suddenly decide to walk off again. He was a handsome blond man who looked a good deal younger than his age. ‘Thanks for coming. I knew you couldn’t be as hard and unforgiving as your sister has been.’
‘I’m not forgiving you for the past six months-just now I couldn’t,’ Alissa admitted gruffly half under her breath. ‘But you’re still my father.’
‘I can’t believe how long it’s been since I saw you.’
She was appalled to feel a surge of childish tears sting her eyes. ‘That’s not my fault. You left us—’
‘No, I didn’t. I left your mother,’ he argued, wrapping his arms round her to pull her close as her tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks. ‘I can’t bear to lose you and Alexa as well. These last months haven’t been easy for me either—’
He urged her into a seat and sped off to get coffee. Being with him felt wrong to Alissa, like straying into the enemy camp. The pain he had caused all of them was still too fresh. She breathed in deep and blinked back the tears, hoping that her mascara was waterproof.
Her father sat down beside her and gripped her hand in his. ‘If it makes you feel any better, it’s not working out with Maggie,’ he confided heavily.
Alissa swallowed hard, for that news was not a comfort. It only made her wonder if all the heartbreak had been for nothing. ‘I’ve only got a few minutes,’ she warned him.
‘So how did you fall in love with a billionaire?’ he quipped. ‘Now if it had been your sister, I would have been less surprised.’
Alissa was grateful for the abrupt change of subject. ‘Harry, Alexa’s man, is lovely. He adores her.’
‘For his own sake, I hope he can stand up to her as well. Alexa’s headstrong and I can’t quite picture her settling down to be a wife and mother,’ the older man confided ruefully.
Alissa looked at her father and without even meaning to heard herself say accusingly, ‘We used to be such a happy family.’ As soon as she said it and saw him recoil guiltily, the tears welled up in her eyes again. Both happy and sad memories tore at her. She would never have dreamt that the breakdown of her parents’ marriage would cause her so much grief as an adult.
She was swallowing back a sob when she noticed a pair of photographers standing nearby with cameras angled in their direction. Anxiety gripped her because Sergei had warned her that she needed to be on the lookout for the paparazzi now to avoid them. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said abruptly and stood up.
Her father hugged her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said despondently. ‘I’m really sorry. Sometimes you don’t know what you have until you lose it.’
Alissa eased gently free again. Moisture still glittering on her pale cheeks, she moved away, noting the relief of her security team as they fell in either side of her. Her father was a weak man who didn’t seem to know what he wanted any more. Only a couple of months ago he had told them all that he could not live without Maggie Lines and that he had to be with her. Did he want to go back to her mother now? Or was that a fanciful idea?
Alissa’s first experience of travelling in a private jet soothed her fractured emotions. She revelled in the peace and tranquillity and all the space while the cabin crew attended to her every need. She watched a film and skimmed through several glossy magazines before enjoying a very pleasant meal followed by a box of Belgian chocolates, which she found impossible to resist. She had one chocolate and closed the box feeling very virtuous, but was eventually tempted into eating more. Sergei phoned her during the flight.
‘Thanks for the chocs,’ she murmured, ‘but I shouldn’t be thanking you, I should be complaining. I’ve already eaten half of them.’
‘Didn’t I tell you that I’m fattening you up for Christmas?’ Sergei teased.
‘That’s not a joke, Sergei. When it comes to chocolate you have to be cruel to be kind,’ she warned him. ‘I’m not great with will power.’
‘I have a meeting this evening, so I won’t see you before the ceremony,’ he told her.
Stark disappointment flashed through Alissa and took her very much by surprise. Why was it that she had to constantly remind herself that she was deceiving her family to play a paid role in Sergei’s life? Why did she keep on forgetting that basic fact? Why the heck couldn’t she stop thinking about Sergei Antonovich? What was she? An immature adolescent or an adult? His attraction ought to be outweighed by his ‘Neanderthal man’ approach to women, she told herself sternly.
Mid-evening the jet landed at Pulkovo Airport in St Petersburg. It was much colder than it had been in London. A limo wafted her slowly through the city streets. She had never seen so many fabulous old buildings grouped in one place, so she was less surprised than she might have been when she was deposited outside a splendid classical property and informed that she had arrived at Sergei’s home. She mounted the steps, her breath like puffs of smoke in the icy air, and walked into the merciful warmth of a superb big hallway with an intricate polished wooden floor. The lemon-coloured walls, stucco work and restrained furnishings were supremely elegant and quite unexpected after the edgy modern design of Sergei’s London apartment.
The stylish décor continued upstairs and into the green and gold guest room where her luggage was deposited. She turned down the offer of food and stifled a yawn. It had been a long day and she was very tired. A pair of maids arrived to unpack for her and she took refuge from all the attention in the stunning bathroom. Lying back in the hot water while jets pummelled her weary limbs was wonderfully relaxing and she stayed there longer than she had planned and indeed was beginning to drift off to sleep when a loud rata-tat-tat sounded on the door and made her sit up with a start.
‘Yes?’ she called in dismay, clumsily scrambling up and clamber
ing out to grab a towel.
‘It’s Sergei…I want to speak to you.’
Aquamarine eyes flying wide with surprise in her flushed face, Alissa snatched the white towelling robe off the back of the door and hastily put it on. It was not a flattering garment but it was better than a bath towel.
Barefoot and hesitant, she emerged, feeling naked without her make-up on. She had not even had the time to run a brush through the tousled damp hair she had piled on top of her head.
One glance at Sergei, looking impossibly tall and intimidating as he strode forward, stole the breath from her lungs. In a charcoal-grey business suit, he was a spectacular sight, but his expression paralysed her in her tracks. His lean, darkly handsome face was hard and taut with anger as he slung a couple of photographs down on the bed in an aggressive gesture. ‘Explain yourself!’
Stiff with astonishment, Alissa collided with scorching dark golden eyes and then bemusedly turned her attention to the pictures on the bed. She moved closer and frowned down at the grainy images, her bewilderment only increasing when she realised that they depicted her with her father at the airport café. ‘What is there to explain?’
Sergei dealt her a look of pure black fury that made her lose colour. ‘How can you ask me that?’ he seethed in a raw undertone.
Alissa went rigid with indignation at his attitude. ‘Don’t you dare raise your voice to me!’ she launched back at him angrily.
Sergei surveyed her in disbelief. ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’
Alissa shrugged, strands of golden hair sliding down from her topknot to curve to her pink cheeks. ‘I’ve got nothing at all to say to you. You barge in here when I’m in the bath—’
‘I knocked on the door!’ Sergei grated.
‘The very fact that you think that that is something to boast about says it all really, doesn’t it?’ Treating him to a disdainful look that would have shrivelled a less assured male, Alissa carefully worked her way round to the other side of the bed. ‘How dare you shout at me?’
