Anyway, she didn’t have the stomach to deal with Dad’s money right now. And she didn’t want to dilute her focus on her upcoming meetings.
Resolute, she tightened the sash on her oversized hotel bathrobe. Four o’clock in the afternoon and it was already pitch black out, this close to the Arctic Circle. But the Ambassador had cleared her to sit in on Victor’s dinner with the dean of the naval academy, Admiral Pavel Germanovich Grachev, in the hotel restaurant at seven.
Fortunately, this left just enough time to complete some emergency shopping. The clothes she’d been wearing since yesterday were getting pretty gamey.
She hesitated outside the bathroom door, behind which the shower hissed over the thunderous strains of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. And struggled to keep the thought of Victor Kostenko, his sculpted physique naked and dripping wet, from kicking her libido into overdrive.
Nervously she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, captain?”
Determined to prove to herself she wasn’t in love with the guy, she’d worked hard all day to restore some semblance of professional distance. She’d kept him strictly at arms’ length except when he was teaching her to fire the damn pistol. Which, between her fear of the gun and the sexual tension that hummed between them, had almost sent her into cardiac arrest.
She’d been stiffly calling him captain all afternoon, and he’d reverted to calling her counselor, in a tone so frigid it could crack steel.
And now he didn’t seem to be responding to formal address at all.
“Ah, Victor?” she called softly. “I need to collect the hair dryer.”
No luck. She pondered the most genteel approach to resolve her little housekeeping dilemma. Best of all, really, if he never even knew she’d been in there, wasn’t it? Holding her breath, she eased the door open.
A wall of steam billowed over her, almost obscuring the expanse of Italian marble and fogged-up mirrors.
Jesus, what am I doing? Unless I want to wind up on the front page of the Washington Post as the divorcee whose sex drive derailed a presidential visit, I can’t go anywhere near this guy. Although, really, the Ambassador had encouraged her to cultivate him….
Anyway, it was forty below. She needed to dry her hair before she went out in the arctic winter, didn’t she? Besides, she had her priorities all straightened out.
Cautiously she edged inside, cataloging the list of hotel toiletries she needed to grab. But, inevitably, her eyes snuck to the shower’s glassed-in expanse. Roomy as a subway carriage, double-headed and definitely designed for two.
Whoa. Through the steamy glass she caught a rear view of the captain…wearing nothing but his diving watch…that sucked every particle of oxygen from her lungs. Tendrils of soapy water streamed over his burnished hair and sun-bronzed skin. Caressed the bulging shoulders and back that had pulled him up the vertical face of K2 without portable oxygen. Slid over the tight bulge of the ass she’d been gripping last night for dear life—
No doubt about it. Coming in here had not been her smartest notion. She was burning up like a patient with a terminal fever, smothering under forty pounds of terrycloth bathrobe. Better grab who she’d come for—what she’d come for—and get the hell out.
She tiptoed to the sink and heroically turned her back on the shower. Eased open the vanity drawer and groped for the hair dryer. Yet, unavoidably, her gaze crept up the oversized mirror before her. In its steamy reflection, the shower door swung open.
Front view of the captain this time. All six-and-a-half feet tall, soaking wet, with those ice-blue eyes fixed on her like a heat-seeking missile.
“Are you coming in or not, Ms. Castle?” he growled, in that low sexy voice that sent chills down her spine.
“Actually, I’m not.” She pivoted to face him. But it would have taken a saint not to look….
“That wasn’t a question.” A purposeful hand wrapped around her sash, pulling until the knot unraveled and the whole damn thing fell open.
His eyes lidded as they slid over her, and beads of sweat spring out against her skin. Uncovered by the robe, her nipples tightened and ached like he was already tonguing them.
He caught her lapels in both hands and tugged her into the cascade of steaming water. Somewhere along the way, she lost her bathrobe.
“Oh God, Victor, we can’t keep doing this…”
But even as her mouth said no, her entire body was saying yes. Her disobedient hands weren’t waiting for clearance from her head, but took their own initiative and slid over his slick muscled chest. Her nipples grazed his skin; his rigid erection nudged her belly. And her sex melted and ran like hot caramel over ice cream.
“We can’t do this,” she repeated. Water trickled over her lips into her parched mouth.
“Why can’t we, precisely?” he murmured, strong hands sliding down her back to wrap around her derriere. “Remind me again of the reasons.”
“I’m in this for my government,” she breathed, lips moving against his chest. Water dripped in her eyes, blinding her, as she dragged her tongue across his nipple.
“How patriotic of you, Counselor,” he rumbled.
But he was smart enough not to stop her when she sank to her knees, nuzzled her way down the taut column of his six-pack abs.
“I don’t want to have any misunderstanding.” Her hands curled around his ass, nails scraping his skin. Rubbed her face against his rigid length until his breath went ragged. “You know you can’t trust me.”
And I know I can’t trust you.
“What if I said I’m willing to take the chance?” He groaned. “Christ, Alexis, you’re killing me.”
Then she did what she’d wanted to do since she saw him standing there, hard and ready as though he’d been waiting just for her. The stiff ridge of his cock tasted of salt and musk, still smelled of her own arousal. And that turned her on like hell. She stroked…tasted… teased…suckled. Shivered when he clenched her sodden hair, and arched against her like he couldn’t get enough.
He was dangerous to her in so many ways. He was an SVR agent who’d been lying to her from Day One. Splashed around enough money to float the economy of a mid-sized country, and was extremely vague about how he’d earned it. He was going to ruin her career and her reputation, possibly derail a presidential visit, and torpedo her father’s dying wish for her to make Ambassador by age forty. And he was going to break her heart.
But God, she wanted to make him come in her mouth.
In the end, she just wanted him—for a night or an hour, any way she could get him. She wanted him the way he finally took her, with her legs around his waist and her back up against the wall. With the hot water streaming into her open mouth when he thrust into her. With his voice growling endearments in two languages, making her plead for it. Making her sob with pleasure when he gave it to her.
She thought it might be tears that blurred her eyes finally, mingled with the stinging spray that trickled down her cheeks.
But thanks to the shower and the steam, he couldn’t possibly know it.
_____________________________________
An hour later, Victor had gone to the business lounge—to check his email, he said. Alexis was alone, dressing for dinner though her knees were still wobbly from that mind-blowing bout of sex they weren’t supposed to have, when someone knocked on the door.
Maybe he’d forgotten his key. Or maybe he wanted to catch her in the nude. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation zinging through her that was completely inconsistent with her strategy.
This time she’d really screwed up, having sex in the shower with a known SVR agent. And she didn’t think the security office would be terribly sympathetic if she explained that she’d discovered an insatiable sexual hunger for the guy, and couldn’t get enough of him. Or that she’d fallen in love with the agent in question.
Probably for the best that she’d already twisted up her hair and slipped into the black cocktail dress the butler had brought: a sexy number that encased her
size six figure like a glove, with a halter tie that could be loosened with a tug.
Another knock echoed through the suite—distinctly impatient this time. Struggling not to grin, she wiggled into the strappy heels that made her legs about a mile long.
Breathlessly, she opened the door. “Did you forget—?”
Her words dried up when she recognized her ex-husband. Jesus, he looked like hell. His dark hair was tousled, his expensive overcoat rumpled—which had to be a first—and his gray eyes rimmed with red.
“Geoff.” Her anticipation fizzled like a wet sparkler on the Fourth of July. “You’re here. I, ah, thought you’d call when you landed.”
“Yes, well, don’t bowl me over with your enthusiasm.” He slid a bitter look over her cocktail dress. “I suppose you were expecting the other chap.”
“In fact, I was.” She was finished deferring to him, and met his hostility dead on, with a challenging look. “The Ambassador is fully briefed on my actions, and he’s authorized this appointment.”
“Appointment? Is that what you call it?” Mirthlessly, her ex laughed. “I’ll bet he didn’t authorize what I’m about to show you. It appears your ‘friend’ is tied up downstairs, so you’d better let me in.”
Briefly Alexis contemplated whether she wanted to do that. He’d had her followed like an obsessed stalker, aggravating her tricky situation with Victor, with utter disregard for the possible consequences to this Ukraine crisis. Had he wanted her to snap under the pressure?
Regardless, the guy was still her boss, and Stu had instructed her to speak with him. Damage control, he’d said. And yeah, she needed it big time.
“Come in.” Unwillingly she showed him into the suite’s elegant living room. When she took his coat, she caught the nip of whiskey on his breath.
Just what she needed. Geoff in a cold rage was hard enough to handle, but Geoff irate and drinking was intolerable.
“Looks like he’s been keeping you in style.” Sitting on the blue-and-gold striped couch, her ex adjusted his cufflinks. “You’d better not get used to it, given the abysmal way our mutual funds are performing.”
Alexis slanted him a wary look, remembering that phone call she hadn’t returned. The two of them shared the same planner and invested in the same funds, an arrangement that dated from their marriage. But Geoff had always paid much closer attention to their finances than she did.
Accurately reading her silence, he quirked a scornful brow. “You’d better get back on top of this, Alexis. The trade deficit hasn’t done much for our investments. In fact, our shares have decreased in value by thirty percent.”
“My God.” Rooted in place, she stared at him, feeling pangs of unease tighten her chest. Wryly she recognized the onset of an emotion Wayne Castle’s fortune had always buffered her from—anxiety over her financial future. She had a good-paying job, some funds squirreled away in an old-fashioned savings account, so she wasn’t going to starve. Still, obviously she needed to pay more attention to her finances, distasteful as she’d always found the subject.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” She put on her game face. “I’ll look into it. However, we both know you didn’t hop on a flight from Moscow to discuss the stock market.”
“Indeed.” Geoff straightened his poppy silk tie. “On to business then, shall we?”
“In fact, I have a few items to raise myself,” she said pointedly, perching on a wing chair that put the coffee table between them. “For a start, I’d like to know why you’ve hired off-duty Embassy security guards and their Chechen sidekicks to follow me all over Russia.”
He shot her a startled look—chagrined yet defensive. She’d seen that look too many times during their marriage, usually when she smelled some other woman’s perfume on his clothes. Grimly she stared him down.
“Don’t even think about denying it, Geoff. Your mobile phone number was on their speed dial.”
Her ex ran an agitated hand over his hair. “For God’s sake, isn’t it obvious? I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” she echoed, incredulous. “From whom?”
“From yourself.” Flying true to form, he refused to admit he’d done anything off-color. “You needed protection from your own poor judgment. I thought Kostenko was trying to compromise you, Alexis. Hell, I still think that. I hired one of our Embassy guards to tail you for your own protection, and I don’t know a thing about any Chechen sidekicks. The man must have hired them on his own initiative.”
“You’d set a tail on me without bothering to discuss it with me first, or even just show the courtesy of informing me?” Alexis struggled to contain the flare of fury, though she’d already guessed what he’d say. “That may be the most patriarchal—damn it, Geoff! You’re lucky no one ended up dead as a result of your little stunt. In case you’ve forgotten, Captain Kostenko’s a third-degree black belt, just like I am. Neither one of us needed your ‘protection.’
“And I suppose,” she added bitterly, “you told your goons that I was fully cognizant and cooperative with their surveillance?”
“I meant to tell you, but you never gave me the chance.” His voice rang with the indignation of a wronged victim. “If you weren’t so damned eager to crawl into Kostenko’s trousers, you wouldn’t be in this mess, would you? You couldn’t pick some twenty-year-old beefcake Marine with a security clearance to screw. No, you had to go and fall for a Russian intelligence agent—”
“That’s enough, Geoff!” Alexis hissed, slicing an anxious glance toward the entrance hall. Given that slip-up in a non-secure room, her ex had to be pretty close to losing it. He knew as well as she did that nothing they said in this country was private. Now her instincts warned her to cut their losses.
“Let’s not discuss this now,” she murmured. “Among other reasons, I’m expecting him to return any minute. We need to be constructive here, and use our time efficiently.”
“Right, then, how’s this for efficient? There are two things you need to know about your new boyfriend.” Geoff’s eyes flashed with malice. “Our boys dug up a body today, figuratively speaking, after a little chat with Kostenko’s bank and the local militsia.”
Now her personal antennae were definitely picking up danger signals. She needed to know what their analysts had turned up. But she knew she wouldn’t like it. Already her gut was churning with dread.
“If his bank is involved, I suppose you’ve discovered how the captain makes his money,” she said tightly, gripping her knees. “He mentioned some investments in the ‘90s.”
“Investments?” Geoff showed his teeth like a feral dog. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. The chap started with a string of adventure charters. Babysitting tourists on Siberian treks, ice-camping, polar bear viewing, et cetera. Then he expanded the business, went international, opened a dive shop on the Red Sea. Obviously capital hasn’t been an issue for this fellow. Even leads the groups himself when he can…a regular Jacques Cousteau.”
“None of this is a crime.” But her tummy was knotting with the words he hadn’t said. No way Geoff had flown all the way up here, bristling with vindication, over an adventure travel business Victor had going on the side. There had to be something more.
“Well, as it turns out, that’s just the man’s hobby.” Her ex leaned forward and locked in on her. “Kostenko’s real breadwinner is the casinos. He’s a major investor in six of them, Alexis, scattered all over Moscow. You know what this means, don’t you? The guy can’t be clean in that business, rubbing shoulders with that element—and it turns out he isn’t. The militsia say he’s in bed with the Russian Mafia.”
“My God,” Alexis whispered, hands clenching around her knees. She’d known Victor was hiding something, and figured it related to the spy business, which at least could be justified as an act of patriotism. She’d known Moscow was as rough and lawless these days as the Wild West, and the big guns ran the show. But she’d never dreamed a man with Victor’s background could be a player in the criminal un
derworld.
Slowly, her brain put the pieces together. All that money—more money than God. His imprecise comments regarding how he’d earned his fortune. Her alarm bells had been going off for days, but she hadn’t wanted to listen.
“I don’t believe it,” she said numbly.
“You’d better believe it, Alexis.” Her ex leaned forward. “And get this. There’s a police investigation in progress on the man. They intend to nail him and his casino comrades for tax evasion, money laundering and racketeering.”
Oh—shit. The ugly words knocked her flat, sent her brain spinning like a top. Evasive though he might be, Victor didn’t throw off that kind of slimy vibe, did he? She could never have fallen for a guy like that. Hell, he worked in a senior slot at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Russians had to have vetted him. But he’d lost his command, been booted out of Washington, and the details of his misdeed still weren’t clear.
“Wait a minute,” she murmured, trying desperately to reason it through. “If all of this is true, why haven’t they arrested him?”
“Because the investigation’s been placed on hold,” Geoff said impatiently. “A higher-up in the government has instructed the police to sit on the case. Kostenko’s probably bought off the mayor, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, all the standard bigwigs. That’s how these Mafia types operate.”
These Mafia types. Tax evasion, money laundering and racketeering—Jesus. How could I fall for a guy who runs with the mob? Alexis had never fainted in her life, but now a tunnel of blackness was encroaching on her vision, making her dizzy and sick.
She couldn’t seem to process it, couldn’t make it click with everything she’d observed about the man she’d fallen in love with, and what she felt in her gut. Well, obviously her judgment had been suspect.
Her breath rasped in her lungs as she leaned forward, got her head between her knees. Slowly her vision cleared.
“You said there were two pieces of information,” she breathed when she straightened, still feeling shocky. “What’s the other one?”
Her ex seemed to have trouble spitting it out, and fiddled with his cufflinks. “I understand you spoke with the Ambassador already, about the—photos.”
The Russian Seduction Page 19
