The Power of Vasilii

by Penny Jordan

  ‘You didn’t want to travel on to China, did you?’ Laura asked Vasilii as soon as they were alone again.

  He had betrayed that to her? Vasilii prided himself on never betraying any feelings he might have to anyone.

  ‘If it’s because of me and last night … If you’re afraid …’ She had to say it. Had to offer to let him travel to China alone—had to make sure he understood that his accusations against her were unfounded.

  Did she think—could she possibly have sensed—that he feared his own inability to control the way he felt about her, his desire for her? Vasilii’s pride burned.

  ‘What is there for me to fear? You give yourself an importance you do not possess.’ His heart was thudding in angry, defensive denial. Because both it and he knew that he had every reason to fear the feelings that Laura aroused in him. Because both it and he knew that somehow she had changed him, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

  Laura was too astonished by Vasilii’s angry reaction to her question to respond. He had jumped to completely the wrong conclusion. What she had been about to say was that if he was afraid that she might do something silly he need not be. Instead for some reason he had assumed that she thought that he was afraid. Because of that he had immediately pushed her away with his harsh words.

  Was that compassion she felt for him? If so, perhaps she needed to remind herself of his cruelty to her last night, and the harshness of his words right now.

  He had protected her from Gang Li, she reminded herself. He had replaced her ‘missing’ earring. Which meant what? That she meant something special to him? She could hardly allow herself to think that after last night. And besides, why would she want to think it? She had to remember that the real Vasilii was the man who had told her last night what he really believed about her. The real Vasilii was the man who had turned his back on her and rejected her. The real Vasilii had made it more than plain that there was no role for her in his life other than the one she had already. The real Vasilii could never love her because he would never allow himself to love any woman.

  Love her? Laura’s heart crashed into her ribs with a force that momentarily deprived her of breath. What was she thinking? Nothing. She wasn’t thinking anything—and nor was she going to.

  He didn’t want to dwell on Laura, but not doing so was proving impossible, Vasilii recognised. A woman who had worked as tirelessly behind the scenes as Laura had obviously done on his behalf had to possess a brand of loyalty that any man would value—especially in a relationship as close as their own needed to be. A working relationship as close as theirs needed to be, Vasilii underlined for himself. And that was the only kind of relationship they could ever have.

  Laura was only doing what she had done for him because it was to her own benefit as an employee. There was nothing personal for him in what she had done.

  Everything that had happened should reinforce what he already believed about the danger of emotional relationships. It should confirm to him that he had been right to bring last night’s intimacy to an end—even if his body was insisting still, via its unrelenting aching awareness of her, just how much it wished that he had taken last night to its natural conclusion.

  Had he done so then this morning he would have woken up with Laura in his arms—in his bed. And right now that was where they would have returned to celebrate together this unexpected development that could still lead to success for his venture.

  Was that what he really wanted? Laura in his arms and in his bed?

  No. It was impossible for him to want that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FROM the minute the plane had touched down in China’s Shandong Province at just gone eight o’clock in the morning, after a twelve-hour overnight flight, with wonderfully comfortable beds in the Chinese jet, they had been treated as the most highly honoured guests as they travelled along the Yan-Peng Sightseeing Highway and into the Nanwang Grape Valley area.

  Now, their destination was within view ahead of them in the hills, several miles outside the ancient town, surrounded by Ming Dynasty walls, and Laura thought that it would be impossible for anyone not to have their senses stirred by the beauty of this remote and very beautiful part of the country.

  Wu Ying had already explained to them that China was planning to create its own wine-producing industry there. The winery owned by Wu Ying and her cousin, she had told them, had been modelled on French vineyards.

  ‘And my cousin insisted that our house was to be more like a proper French château than a farmhouse,’ she added, as their car started to climb up into the hills and they began to see the first of what turned out to be many acres of vines. ‘We have already planted Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot grapes. Next year we plan to introduce the Syrah and Viognier varieties,’ she explained, before urging Laura to look out of the window so that she could catch her first glimpse of the ‘château’.

  It was truly magnificent, Laura admitted, and surrounded by a lake so that it looked almost as though the building, with its fairy-tale towers and gilded roofs, seemed to float on the water. When they got closer Laura realised that in addition to the lake the château was also surrounded by newly planted formal parterre gardens.

  ‘My cousin and I argued about the design for this building,’ Wu Ying told them both as the car swept up a long driveway before crossing a bridge over the lake and driving through a large gateway into the inner courtyard. ‘I wanted something that was more traditionally Chinese, but he said that he wanted our home here to reflect the surroundings of the world’s very best wines. It is his goal that one day we will produce such wines here.’

  ‘It is all most impressive,’ Vasilii complimented her.

  And he was right, Laura acknowledged as they were bowed from the car by a smartly dressed major-domo and then escorted into a truly magnificent hallway, its decor very much in the style of the Palace of Versailles.

  ‘I have arranged a tour for you tomorrow—not just of our vineyard but also of the coastal Treaty Ports, built here originally by the British for foreign trade during the Opium Wars. We get many English tourists wanting to visit, and my cousin believes that this will one day be a good place to build a hotel complex such as the one in Montenegro. For now, though, Chan will show you to your room. We have given you our most special tower bedroom. It is very romantic,’ she told them with a pleased smile. ‘It has worked out well that you are able to share a room, as my cousin complains that we do not have enough bedrooms here to accommodate his entourage.’

  Laura had already opened her mouth to explain that they would prefer not to share a room, but Vasilii was shaking his head and frowning at her and Laura knew why. If they were to say now that they were not lovers, then Wu Ying would be embarrassed—especially as she had already said that she had thought there was a romantic connection between them even before Vasilii had lied to Gang Li and told him that they were lovers.

  However, whilst Laura knew why Vasilii had given her that silent warning to remain silent and say nothing, she also knew that she could not possibly share a room with him. Right now, though, she had no choice other than to follow Vasilii as Chan, the major-domo, led the way not to a fairy-tale sweeping staircase but instead to a lift that was cleverly disguised as one of several marble columns.

  The lift took them straight up to a circular upper hallway, with magnificent views of the countryside and the vines beyond the château through its windows. Several corridors radiated off the hallway. The one they were shown down had small windowed cabinets built into the walls which held beautiful pieces of Chinese art. Laura would have liked to have been able to look more closely at them, but Chan was obviously keen to show them straight to their room.

  Their room. Laura’s heart did a high dive that left her head spinning.

  The corridor came to an end outside a pair of ornately decorated doors, which Chan opened with a flourish.

  The first thing Laura saw when Vasilii stepped back so that she could precede him inside was the shaft of
sunlight coming in from the high narrow window opposite the door. Beyond it she could see the distant mountains, with their peaks wreathed in mist. Or was she simply focusing on the view beyond the room because she was afraid to look at the room itself? But of course she had to do so, and—just as she had dreaded—it was dominated by a huge bed, with a Louis XV–style carved bedhead. A huge bed. Not even two singles that had been pushed together. A huge bed and two stately but uncomfortable-looking chairs which were drawn up either side of the marble fireplace. Not even a sofa, then.

  ‘We can’t both sleep here,’ she told Vasilii as soon as Chan had gone, leaving them alone together in the room.

  ‘We have to,’ Vasilii told her grimly. ‘It’s not what either of us would have chosen, but it’s hardly the end of the world. We’re only here for a handful of days, after all, and I am not prepared to prejudice or risk a successful conclusion to my discussions at this stage.’

  ‘We aren’t just going to have to share a room, we’re going to have to share a bed as well,’ Laura stressed.

  ‘A very large bed. And since I would have thought I have already demonstrated to you that I am perfectly capable of not touching you, and you have insisted to me that you shared a suite with your previous boss without—’

  ‘A suite. Not a bedroom.’

  ‘You were found in his bed.’

  ‘But he hadn’t slept in it.’

  ‘You’re turning an admittedly unwanted situation into a dramatic production that it doesn’t warrant. All we need to do is agree that neither of us wants to have any kind of sexual or intimate contact with the other and that can be an end to the matter. On the other hand there is always a chair. Not that they look particularly comfortable. Now, what time did Wu Ying say her cousin would be arriving?’

  ‘At four o’clock this afternoon.’

  ‘That gives us two hours. I want to go over some of my costings before the meeting, but first I want a shower. I expect you feel the same. Do you want to use the bathroom first?’

  Laura nodded her head. What else could she do? Vasilii was obviously taking it for granted that they were going to share this room, and its bed, and she could hardly object after what he had said without risking having him ask her exactly why she was objecting. And she couldn’t give him the answer to that question, could she? Not when it would mean admitting to him that she was afraid of the way being so close to him made her feel.

  And what was that?

  Laura felt a shudder of sensation and longing run right through her, from the top of her head right down into her toes. In fact it was so intense that it made her curl those toes up inside her shoes. Being close to Vasilii would make her feel just like that. Lying close to him in bed would intensify it a thousandfold. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to tell him that she couldn’t share that bed because she was afraid of her own longing for him. What woman’s would?

  It had been a long day, culminating in a discussion over dinner between Vasilii and Wu Ying’s cousin from the government which had resulted in the formal offer of a contract.

  Now, tired but buoyed up with the feeling of euphoria that came from being part of such a successful conclusion, Laura was actually able to put aside her anxiety about sharing a bed with Vasilii as he unlocked the door to their room.

  ‘An excellent result,’ Vasilii told her once they were inside. ‘The terms we’re being offered are better than I’d hoped for.’

  It was ridiculous for her to feel a surge of pleasure and belonging just because he had used the word ‘we’, Laura warned herself, discreetly touching her earlobes to make sure that her earrings were still in place.

  She realised that she had not been discreet enough when she saw that Vasilii was watching her.

  ‘I’m almost afraid to wear them after so nearly losing one,’ she felt obliged to admit.

  ‘So why did you?’ Vasilii asked her.

  It was not just totally irrational but actively dangerous as well, this need he felt to keep her here with him, to talk to her properly without any barriers between them.

  ‘I always wear them when I feel I need some extraspecial help or good luck. It’s silly, I know, but because they were my mother’s wearing them makes me feel as though a part of her is with me.’

  Why had she told him that? He would think she was totally idiotic.

  ‘Why did you feel you needed some good luck?’

  Why had she started this? Now she was going to look a total fool. ‘I wanted it for the contract,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  Vasilii had turned away from her to walk over to the window. Now he turned round and admitted slowly, as though the words were being dragged from him by a force he couldn’t withstand, ‘I don’t have anything that was my mother’s.’

  What was he doing? What was he saying? What was happening to him?

  Fear and anger boiled up inside him, but despite that—in direct confrontation of them, in fact—he heard himself continue. ‘I wear my father’s favourite gold cufflinks for much the same reason, though. He had no formal training, but he was the best deal negotiator I have ever seen. His ability to turn a bad deal round and make it come good was almost magical.’

  Why was he telling her this? He had never, ever talked to anyone like this, and could hardly believe that he was doing so now.

  ‘It’s obviously a skill that you’ve inherited from him,’ Laura said truthfully, pausing before adding softly, ‘I’m sorry that you don’t have anything of your mother’s to remember her by. You do have her love, though, and a mother’s love transcends death.’

  Vasilii looked at her, overwhelmed by a need to reach out to her and for her, to hold her and go on holding her, to tell her all those things he had never told anyone else.

  She looked so passionately intense, with her eyes bright and her lips flushed and parted, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her until she kissed him back and went on kissing him.

  What in damnation was happening to him?

  He had to put some distance between them so that he could get himself back to normal. ‘We’d better call it a night. We’ve got an early start in the morning,’ he told Laura in a clipped voice.

  Out of nowhere inside his head, suddenly and wholly unexpectedly, he could see his mother’s face. Her lovely eyes were both tender with her love for him and at the same time reproaching him, in the same way they had done when as a child he had ignored her pleas not to be stubborn and risk hurting himself by doing so.

  This was Laura’s doing. Somehow she had the power to affect him like this.

  ‘Yes.’

  How wooden her own voice sounded, Laura recognised. Would Vasilii hear in it her longing to prolong their conversation and to keep him close to her?

  Determined not to let him guess how she really felt, she started to turn away from him, saying as she did so, ‘Shall I use the bathroom first or …?’

  She was going to walk away from him, and once she had …

  There was no place in his life for a woman like Laura—a woman who would want commitment and all the things that went with that. He should just let her go. Letting her go was the right thing to do. So why was he walking towards her, his voice raw with longing as he said her name as though it was a prayer?

  Laura trembled as she stood and waited for Vasilii to reach her. Unbelievably, he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes—sense it in the way he looked at her mouth. A clarion call of wild, excited joy pealed through her.

  Vasilii lifted his hand as though to cup the side of her face and then dropped it again, shaking his head as he said harshly, ‘No!’

  It was too much for Laura to endure.

  ‘Yes,’ she insisted, finding a courage she had never known she had. Her voice grew stronger as she repeated, ‘Yes,’ and then put her own hand on Vasilii’s shoulder as she leaned towards him.

  Silently they looked at one another—Laura quivering from head to foot in a mixture of wariness and longing, Vasili
i’s eyes darkening with quickening male need—and then he was kissing her, fiercely and passionately, making the whole of her thrill to the desire she could sense in him as well as to the desire he was arousing within her. His hand cupped her breast, shaping its softness, his thumb brushing against her nipple, slowly, rhythmically, hypnotically, until she was breathing in time to the rhythm of his touch.

  It was as though the whole of his self-control had been blasted away from him, Vasilii recognised as he took Laura’s mouth in a searingly, sensually intense kiss. Somewhere outside the need that was demolishing his self-control Vasilii was aware of a terse inner voice, demanding to know what he thought he was doing. The same inner voice was warning him that his behaviour was reckless, that it was dangerous, that it went against everything he had ever planned for himself. But the sound of that voice was so distant and vague that it couldn’t compete with the crashing, surging, leaping urgency of the force that had take possession of him. He should stop. He wanted to stop. But the plain truth was that he couldn’t. He wanted her too much. That wanting was an agony inside him, brought to life by the feel of her in his arms and the taste of her on his lips, savaging him, possessing him, storming through him and allowing nothing to stand in its way.

  She should stop him, Laura knew. If she didn’t she would regret it. He would reject her, just as he had already done once, and she would be humiliated again. She must stop him now—whilst she still could. She tried to pull away, but the insistent possession of Vasilii’s tongue was tempting her lips to open for him, just as the equally demanding thrust of his thigh between her own was causing them not just to part but to cling to the hard, muscular masculinity of him in mute welcome.

  It was too late. She couldn’t stop him because she couldn’t stop herself, Laura recognised. Everything she had felt in his arms before she was feeling again right now—only this time every one of those sensations, every one of those aching pulses of female desire, was intensified a hundredfold—or so it seemed to her—as her longing for him flooded through her, submerging the last of her resistance.