Untouched by His Diamonds

by Lucy Ellis

  Her shoulders dropped. She felt as if she was getting a crash course in male mating patterns. Was it really that easy for him? She had opened herself up last night to a connection between them and she couldn’t close it off so easily. Didn’t it mean anything to him?

  Clementine stuffed down the sudden sharp pain in her chest. She was such an idiot. Him and Joe Carnegie—both of them deserved flogging. Except, watching Serge now, she recognised he wasn’t really anything like Joe. He hadn’t hidden anything. He’d been up-front all the way. Probably in his world that was how these things were done. He was hardly going to be her boyfriend by any stretch of the imagination. She couldn’t imagine him dropping by on a Friday night at her flat with a pizza and lying on the sofa rubbing her feet.

  He turned his head suddenly and scanned the crowd, and Clementine froze. She knew when he found her because she felt it like a jolt down to her toes. She recognised the flare of those green eyes, how her own were probably huge in her frozen face. She waited for him to dismiss her, to turn away, but instead his features firmed. He looked resolved.

  She spun around before she could see anything that would make mincemeat of her feelings and made her way blindly towards the bar. She needed a drink. She needed hard liquor and fast.

  If I’d said yes I could be with him now, she thought helplessly. I could be in that woman’s shoes. I could be going with him to New York.

  She reached the bar and asked for a Bloody Mary. It wasn’t something she normally drank, but she needed something sharp and unfamiliar to snap herself out of this mood. Before it arrived she felt him rather than saw him. The solidity of his body; the turning of other people’s heads. There were people everywhere, brushing shoulders, bumping elbows, but she knew it was him.

  She gravitated towards him like a planet to the sun and looked up into those eyes of his. She said softly, ‘Yes,’ then hopelessly, ‘I wish I’d said yes. I should have said yes.’

  He looked stunned, poleaxed. But at least he didn’t look angry or, worse, amused.

  I am crazy, thought Clementine. Why did I tell him that? He doesn’t care.

  Serge experienced the now familiar surge of frustration connected with this woman. What was she playing at?

  As Clementine pushed her way through the crowd his first instinct was to pursue her. It was basically his foremost instinct where she was concerned, he acknowledged with more frustration. Yet all he could do was watch her vanish into the crowd, even as his thoughts curled possessively around her admission.

  That’s the girl. Run away. You won’t be getting far.

  He had to deal with Raisa before he tried anything bolder with Clementine, and that would take tact, but once he was free he would be going after her.

  Clementine had better be able to run fast on those impossible heels of hers, because she’d just declared herself his and he was coming to collect.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘DARL, can you cheer up? You’re frightening the other passengers.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t get much shut-eye.’ They were queuing to put their bags through at the airport, and at four in the morning she felt just about dead on her feet. But she manufactured a smile for Luke, remembering the old adage to fake it until you make it.

  Which she would be applying to her life the minute she got back to London. The last couple of days had impressed on her as nothing else had the need to get back on track with her life. It was time to let the past go. She’d allowed her experience with Joe Carnegie to completely blow anything she might have with Serge Marinov right out of the water. He held a measure of blame, too. If he’d been less forceful she might have been able to navigate around his invitation. Instead they’d both hit a wall—his expectations versus hers—and he had moved on.

  ‘Still thinking about the gorgeous brute?’ commented Luke from behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. ‘I thought he was going to pop me one yesterday.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I didn’t mean for you to get involved.’

  ‘He seems pretty keen on you, Clem.’

  ‘What? No, that’s all over.’

  ‘Okey-doke. But I’m not sure he agrees.’

  Clementine frowned and moved forward in the queue. Why was Luke speaking in the present tense? Why were people in the queue looking at her?

  ‘Clementine.’ His voice turned her around. Deep, dark Russian male.

  Serge. So close to her she didn’t know where to look. So she looked up and tumbled into his eyes again. It happened each and every time, and she couldn’t work out why. Her breath hitched. She didn’t know what to say.

  His mouth eased into a knowing smile. ‘Come with me now to New York, kisa.’

  Go with him? She was boarding a plane…Of all the unreasonable…

  ‘Are these your bags?’

  To her astonishment a young man in a jacket and tie took hold of her suitcase and overnight bag.

  ‘Just a minute—those are my things!’

  Serge made a casual gesture with one hand and the guy froze mid-move.

  ‘You have changed your mind?’ That smile was still curling wickedly at the corner of his mouth, as if it couldn’t possibly be true.

  ‘No, I—’ She looked around to find Luke madly nodding at her like a jack-in-the-box.

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to say goodbye to your friend and then join me.’ Serge’s eyes had narrowed on Luke. Clementine already recognised that slight hardening of his mouth.

  He was jealous. Well, maybe a teensy weensy bit. Which reminded her…

  ‘What about your girlfriend?’

  ‘Sto?’ He looked genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Last night. Remember? She was your date. Or are there so many we start to blur?’

  Luke snickered.

  ‘Raisa is a friend, nothing more.’ He actually sounded a bit affronted, as if he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

  The lady in front of her looked Serge up and down. ‘I wouldn’t trust him, love. Too good-looking.’

  Too good-looking. It was an understatement. He was a big, tough gorgeous Cossack. Every other woman in the vicinity was glued to him.

  Clementine bit her lip. It was funny, and she had to admit it was extremely exciting.

  She deserved some fun—to be a light-hearted girl again instead of the cautious woman she had become, constantly second-guessing herself.

  And he was here. He’d come for her. It was ridiculous to consider any of this romantic but she did. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.

  ‘All right,’ she heard herself saying, throwing herself off the emotional diving board. ‘Why not?’

  Satisfaction entered the look Serge was giving her, and she noticed a little breathlessly that his gaze took a round trip of her body but she decided to let it pass. Right now she just wanted to revel in her romantic moment.

  Serge offered his hand and she took it. It was big and rough and enclosed hers completely. It felt unfailingly intimate. Even this man’s hands were fantasy material.

  ‘I’ll call you when I arrive,’ she said belatedly to Luke, who was grinning and gazing up at Serge like a fan girl.

  ‘You do that, Clem. Have fun, darl.’

  They had only gone a few hundred metres when she realised they were moving away from the public terminal.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘My plane, kisa.’

  ‘Your plane?’

  ‘Private jet.’ He glanced down at her and was met with a look of complete wonderment. Cynically, he wondered if that little bit of information was going to get him laid before the plane even took off.

  She dug in her heels as they left the terminal and hit the tarmac. Ahead was indeed a private plane—a state-of-the-art jet. Nerves set in like never before. She yanked on his hand. ‘Serge, I need to make a few things clear before we go any further.’

  He looked at her impatiently.
‘We’ll discuss it on board.’

  ‘No, we need to discuss it now. I have …’ She didn’t know how to phrase it, so she grabbed the nearest equivalent. ‘I have some terms and I want to make sure you’re okay with them. I don’t want any misunderstandings.’

  He gave her a look of sheer disbelief. ‘You cannot be serious?’

  Her heart stuttered at that. He wasn’t going to be difficult about this, was he? It wasn’t a deal-breaker?

  ‘I am serious,’ she said more crossly. ‘And I want to be up-front about this.’ She’d come to a complete halt, pulling free of his hand. ‘I don’t want to be treated like some girl you’ve just picked up.’

  He made a sound of deep male frustration in the back of his throat. ‘I have no intention of treating you as anything but a lady. Frankly, Clementine, in Russia we do not do things in this way. Would you not prefer some discretion?’

  Baffled she gazed up at him. He would treat her as a lady? Why didn’t that reassure her? Shouldn’t he consider her a lady?

  Suddenly it all felt too hard, and she decided then and there to let it go. She was reading too much into everything he said because she was having trouble trusting anyone. It wasn’t fair to Serge, and it was going to ruin things before they started.

  ‘We can discuss your terms when we’re alone, kisa,’ he said dryly. ‘But I can assure you there won’t be any “misunderstandings” as you describe it.’

  She laid her hand gently on his chest. He felt so hard, and she could feel the shift of muscle as he took a deep breath. She affected him, and it thrilled her because it answered her own desire for him. But it wasn’t anything she was going to act on unless it felt absolutely right.

  She smiled up at him—her first for the day. ‘I’m really glad you came for me, Serge.’

  ‘You like the jet, kisa?’

  ‘I guess.’ She gave a gasp as he slid his arm around her waist and scooped her up into his arms.

  ‘Serge!’

  ‘Da—Serge.’

  The sudden physical closeness wrapped around her and she melted. That fast she was a mess of hormones and longing.

  He carried her as if she weighed nothing. Something long dormant inside her leapt in answer to his overt masculine display of physical strength and dominance. He was taking her over, and it was stunningly clear her body liked it.

  Serge experienced a primitive satisfaction in having Clementine in his arms. He’d been anticipating this since last night. He’d been working towards it since he’d followed her down the Nevsky. Elusive Clementine, who withheld so much, only made him want more, to give her more.

  Those terms of hers…Never had he been confronted with such a bald request from a woman. Did she imagine he wasn’t going to cough up with the gifts? And how high exactly did she measure her favours? Not that it really mattered; at this point he was prepared to pay any price. ‘How much does all this cost?’

  Clementine ground to a halt in her silver slingbacks and did a three-sixty as she took in the hotel foyer. Understated elegance had never looked so expensive. Adding it to the limo from JFK, the posse of minders following them in another car, and not forgetting the plane—the private jet—the world was starting to resemble Oz, of the Wizard variety.

  Serge waited, dark green eyes steady on her, his hand extended in a gesture to have her join him.

  ‘Okay, Slugger—spill.’ She sashayed up to him and slid her hand into his as if she accompanied wealthy, powerful men into hotels every day of the week.

  ‘This sports management gig—who in heck do you manage?’

  ‘Not who, kisa, what.’ His expression was indulgent, as if she entertained him. ‘I own a corporation that broadcasts and hosts boxing and mixed martial arts fights.’

  Clementine batted her eyelashes at him. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s—wow.’

  ‘I’m getting an impressed vibe from you, Clementine.’

  The entire twelve hours of the flight—half of which she had slept—Serge had been an exemplary host, seeing to her needs before retreating behind his laptop and work. But she was definitely getting a more playful Serge now that they were on terra firma.

  He ushered her into the elevator and the doors closed out the rest of the world. Serge’s shoulders rose up in front of her and Clementine couldn’t see anything else but him.

  ‘Where I come from your line of business translates as very blokey. It explains a lot.’

  And there it was—that little private smile he’d been waiting for.

  He gently twined her hair over her shoulder and said quietly, close to her ear, ‘And what does it explain, Clementine?’

  She shivered in response. ‘All the testosterone. That’s why you were able to beat off those guys. You knew what you were doing.’ Her own voice had grown hushed. She looked up at him.

  ‘Since meeting you, kisa, it’s been the only thing I’ve been sure of doing.’ His admission, meant only to tease her, suddenly hit him as absolute fact.

  She batted those lashes more slowly. ‘You’re not sure of me, Slugger?’

  ‘Clementine, I have a feeling no man has ever been sure of you.’

  His hand moved around her waist. He leaned in and gave her a moment to accept he was going to kiss her, and then his mouth was suddenly hot and moving fast against her own, opening her up with his tongue, tasting her, giving her no time to back away.

  He hauled her up against him and Clementine turned to liquid heat. She moaned helplessly and slid her arms up around his neck, powerless against the feelings he was stoking in her. His body felt so hard against her own, and the slide of his tongue over her lower lip found an answering pulse deep down inside her. It was almost too much.

  The doors slid open with a soft ping and Serge broke their kiss. It had only lasted a matter of moments, but it felt like for ever, and Clementine couldn’t believe she’d got so carried away from one kiss. Mouth trembling, nipples pressing tight and hot against the lace of her bra, she pulled at her dress. The silk jersey had risen up over her thighs and her hair felt tangled and messy from his hands.

  She watched him use a keycard on the door, trying to clear her head. She hadn’t known a kiss could undo her, and suddenly all her certainty about what she was doing began to fall away.

  Serge ushered her inside, his hand on the small of her back. She needed to keep a clear head if she was going to navigate these waters. ‘Wow,’ she said inadequately as she stepped into sheer luxury. ‘This is—incredible.’

  The extravagance of the hotel suite was another reminder of exactly who Serge was. A rich man. Who could buy a great deal to keep himself happy. No doubt including women.

  But not this woman. She needed to make that very clear to him. Somehow.

  ‘I’m not that impressed, you know, Slugger. Money doesn’t do it for me.’

  ‘What does do it for you, Clementine?’ He was smiling at her, that big, lazy Russian male smile, as if he knew something she didn’t.

  ‘Honesty,’ she replied. ‘Sincerity.’

  The smile darkened to something else. She’d surprised him.

  Her pulse was going thumpity-thumpity as she made her way slowly through the rooms—the living area, the dining room with seating for twenty-four, past the baby grand. She stopped to run her fingers down an octave.

  ‘You play, kisa?’

  ‘By ear.’ She lifted her gaze to his heated expression and a rush of sweet arousal washed through her body. ‘I’m a quick study.’

  She backed away from the piano, realised Serge was measuring her with his gaze. She needed to keep her wits about her with this man. She needed to keep up the banter, hold him off a little longer until she got herself back under control. Beckoning to him with one manicured finger, she fashioned a smile. ‘Come on, Slugger, we’ll see what else we can find.’

  Her heart was pounding as she strolled into the bedroom, knowing her big Siberian tiger was following.

  Cheeks pink, breathing shallow, she put her head in at the en su
ite bathroom door.

  ‘Now, that is one big tub.’

  ‘Would you like to make use of it, Clementine?’ he said from behind her.

  ‘Not right now.’ She was astonished at how steady her voice was.

  She felt his body only centimetres from her own, and she tensed. She had to be smart about this.

  She heard her zip start to slide down and suddenly knew she couldn’t do it. It came over her in a panic, most unlike her, and she pulled away.

  A few days ago she’d wondered if she could handle him. She was fast discovering her answer was no. A resounding no.

  Jerking around, she put a hand up as if she were stopping traffic. ‘Hang on a minute, Slugger, we’ve only just got here.’ Her voice sounded ridiculously girlish. ‘How about dinner and a movie first?’

  She could feel the heat coming off his body, the slam of his breathing as his chest rose and fell just inches from hers. He slid one big hand around her waist, pulling her towards him, smiling that wicked smile of his, and she realised he wasn’t taking her seriously at all.

  ‘Hey.’ She shoved at his chest with one hand and pulled on his arm with the other. ‘I’m not playing, mister. Hands to yourself.’

  She couldn’t be serious? He frowned. By all that was holy, she was serious. Serge released her slowly, but Clementine backed up so fast she hit the doorframe of the en suite bathroom, banging her head.

  Bringing up her hand to rub the offended spot, she blinked at him warily. ‘I said dinner and a movie,’ she repeated mulishly, not liking feeling this way—a little foolish and on the back foot.

  She kept her eyes on his, daring him to argue her down.

  She wasn’t a newbie at this, but Serge Marinov was something beyond her experience. She just didn’t feel ready to be that out of control, and that kiss in the lift had rung some pretty significant bells. This man could very well annihilate all her inhibitions, and she really, really didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning to a note on the pillow telling her thanks, he’d be in touch.

  She wasn’t naive. She got the impression Serge saw her as a lot more sophisticated than she actually was, and she probably needed to talk to him about that. Which made dinner an excellent idea.