His Diamond of Convenience

by Maisey Yates

  “It is she who inspired me to take what assisted me in bringing it to the world. She who inspired me to use my gifts to help others. I will stop boring you now. Enjoy your dinner, enjoy your dancing, enjoy your evening.”

  There were applause and Dmitri walked down from the stage, making a beeline for the back of the room, and for her.

  Victoria was about to say something to him, about to compliment him on his performance, when the band began to play again.

  He did not let her speak. Instead, he extended his hand to her. She took it and she found herself being drawn in close to his body.

  “And now, my dearest fiancée,” he said, “I think you should dance with me.”

  She should have been the one to suggest dancing, considering she was supposed to be the bastion of manners and grace. She had not expected for Dmitri to be the one to make that overture. But then, she had not expected he could look so good in a suit. So, he seemed to be offering up surprises all over the place.

  She smiled, acutely aware that all eyes were on them. “Of course.”

  She allowed him to lead her out to the center of the dance floor, forced herself to relax against his body as he pulled her into his arms. Her breath caught as he leaned in, his breath fanning over her cheek. “I should like to avoid as much social interaction as possible.”

  She let out a nervous laugh, strangely disappointed by the fact that his asking her to dance was merely a diversion. Because he had made such a romantic statement in his speech, she had no doubt that they would not be interrupted out here on the dance floor. People would be content to simply watch them lost in their apparent bubble of love.

  “A room with five hundred people may not be the best venue for solitude.”

  He placed his hand on her lower back, tightening his hold on her. “Perhaps. But this is what we came here to do, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “And so far, I think we have done it very well.” She didn’t know why, but she wanted to reassure him. Perhaps because she knew that giving the speech had been outside his comfort zone, and yet he had done it.

  “A compliment?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  Their dancing was little more than swaying to the music while holding each other, and she found it slightly disconcerting. Because it seemed rather less like dancing as an activity and rather more like something people chose to do if they wanted to touch each other in public and could not think of another socially acceptable way to accomplish that.

  “You have a way of taking a tone that sounds a bit like a disapproving schoolmistress.”

  “Not the sort of mistress I’m supposed to appear to be.”

  “I think not.” He lifted his hand and cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re supposed to appear to be the sort of mistress who warms my bed, not one who sends me to bed alone without supper.”

  “It’s a good thing that we are putting on a very convincing show, then,” she said, looking away from him to try to gauge the reactions of those still sitting at the tables. He tightened his grip on her chin, preventing her from keeping her focus away from him.

  “Perhaps you should give me a kiss.”

  Her heart slammed against her chest. “I thought you weren’t going to seduce me.”

  “I’m not.” He slid his thumb along the outer edge of her lower lip. “I am simply keeping up appearances.”

  She suddenly became acutely aware of her mouth, and her lips felt exceedingly dry. She hadn’t been aware of that at all only a moment ago, and now it was all she could think about. That she needed badly to moisten her lips. Ridiculous. And she felt too self-conscious to do it. Even more ridiculous.

  Still, she found herself running her tongue along the surface of her lower lip, then her upper lip. He shifted his thumb higher, and something wicked overtook her, something that she would not have ever said lurked inside of her, not even at her deepest, most hidden depths. But apparently, it did. She stuck her tongue out again, letting the edge of it touch his thumb, the sharp tang of salt from his skin a force that rocked her body.

  Their eyes clashed and held. “Do you know what you are inviting?”

  She nodded slowly. “I think I do.”

  She raised her hand to touch his face, and he caught it, pulling it back down to her side. “You can’t be asking for sex, darling. Because you have not given me what I require.”

  Her breath caught. Of course. That little leather wristband that would signify her freely given choice. That would have to be given to him in a thinking moment, not a feeling moment. That would drastically cool the heat between them, giving her time to reconsider. And he knew that, which was why he had done it. She chose to see clearly now and without ulterior motive. Just now she was opting to look at it at face value.

  “We have to stay for another hour.” They could not leave any earlier than that—it was impossible. “The leather cuff is in my purse, which is in the cloakroom. I’m going to give it to you on our way out.” Her words were rushed, and she could barely believe she had spoken them even after they had left her mouth. Could hardly believe that she was committing to this.

  But why not? Why not? Nothing she had ever done so far had been able to atone for the sins of her past. She had been good; she had been the best daughter she could possibly be. She had not caused any trouble, had dated no one but a prince in the ensuing years since her one very bad decision. And what had it got her? Nothing. At least, nothing for her. But here she was now on the cusp of her redemption, knowing that the return of London Diva would restore her to the proper place in her family. And knowing for sure that nothing else would.

  She had let one man destroy her feelings about her body, her sex, her feelings. Had let him ruin her relationship with her father.

  Then she had hidden every part of herself she’d decided was wrong and had sought to prove to her father that she had moved past her youthful mistakes, had sought to prove to herself that she was smarter, stronger.

  But in the end her father didn’t care about that. He didn’t care whether or not she got the business back by striking a business deal, or by trading her body. He would never have cared if she had married a prince, or merchant. He would never forgive her, not really. He would never see her the way that he once had.

  That was all very clear to her now.

  No one cared but her. Everyone had moved on but her.

  And with that strange feeling of sadness and freedom roaring through her, she knew her decision had been made. There was no future with Dmitri. But she was okay with that. She didn’t need a future with him; she just needed a future for herself. One that wasn’t for her father, one that wasn’t in response to Nathan.

  She would start tonight. With this decision. With this step forward. Reclaiming something that she would have had long ago if she hadn’t allowed her mistake to define her.

  “Be very certain,” he said.

  “Do I strike you as someone who doesn’t know her mind, Dmitri?” she asked, raising a brow and keeping her tone arch.

  “No.”

  “I thought not.”

  “And now we only have to wait an hour.”

  Her stomach constricted, but it wasn’t nerves having their way with her right now. No, it was excitement. Lust. Lust that she was finally, for the first time, embracing.

  “Yes,” she said, “an hour.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE HOUR DMITRI had to endure after Victoria made her shaky promise was interminable. In a fight, in the ring, time seemed to move both slower and faster. Minutes could stretch out into eternity and the final seconds end as though they had never existed. Nights spent in his family’s posh home when he’d been growing up had been unremarkable. The nights after his exile spent on the gritty streets had been another thing entirely.
/>   Dmitri was accustomed to the relativity of time.

  Still, he had never experienced it on quite this level before. Every moment of small talk would have been torture regardless of what had passed between Victoria and him, but this brought it to new heights. It was all but impossible to focus on what some celebrity in a monkey suit was saying, when in his mind he was already imagining what it would be like to take hold of the zipper on the red dress Victoria was wearing and draw it down, watch the rich fabric part to reveal lily-white skin beneath.

  When he was already picturing what it would be like to slide into her tight wet heat, to be skin to skin with her, to feel her tremble beneath his touch. Yes, as torturous as small talk seemed on a good day, it was amplified in this moment.

  He looked down at his watch, at the bare spot above it where the leather strap was usually tied. And he breathed a sigh of relief when the minute hand ticked over and the timer on this particular fight was up.

  Now he had another one stretching before him. And this one, he had the feeling would go by much too quickly.

  There was nothing he could offer Victoria beyond tonight, or perhaps beyond a physical relationship that would extend only until their business dealings were done.

  Either way, the timer had started already.

  He abruptly broke away from the man who was speaking to him, knowing that he appeared rude, and not giving a damn. He had one thing on his mind now, and that was Victoria. Victoria and her lovely body, Victoria and her lovely lips. Victoria and her crisp, crystal voice and the opportunity to shatter it yet again as he brought her to the peak of pleasure.

  He made his way through the ballroom, over to where she stood. Her blond hair was captured in a low bun at the nape of her neck that had been left loose, some curls escaping and cascading down her back, which was revealed to perfection by the cut of the red gown she was wearing that exposed the elegant line of her spine. The high neck of the front provided the tease, which he was starting to believe Victoria was a master of. Revealing just enough, concealing even more.

  In both her wardrobe and in her interactions.

  An irresistible combination.

  “Victoria,” he said, watching the color in her cheeks darken as he approached. “I believe, my love, it is time for us to go.” He looked at the group of people she was engaged in conversation with. “Unless, you find yourself more occupied here.”

  “Of course not. What could I possibly find more engaging than spending an evening with you?” The way she spoke the words was flirtatious, calculated. Designed to add to the illusion of their relationship, designed to give them both an escape, and designed to leave the people she had been conversing with unoffended. “You understand, don’t you?” She asked the question with a hint of cheekiness that left no doubt in anyone’s mind as to why they were escaping.

  Following her lead, he winked and said something in Russian, something bland that had more to do with the weather than with seduction, but the people in Victoria’s group had no clue. They smiled, and the women exchanged looks, the kind that let him know if he wanted to pursue them at some point, they would be open to it.

  Too bad for them he only had eyes for Victoria.

  He wrapped his arm around Victoria’s waist and pulled her close to him. “We can’t forget to make a stop at the cloakroom first.”

  “No, indeed.” She offered a wave to those standing near them and then curled herself into his side, her body much more tense than it undoubtedly appeared to the onlookers.

  “You are not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because right now you are holding yourself with all of the tension of a woman going to the gallows, not to bed with a lover.”

  “You have to bear with me. I’m not very experienced.”

  That made his stomach tighten, guilt gnawing in him. Of course she wouldn’t be very experienced. She had been badly burned by her first lover. She would have been very cautious in every situation since then. And he could hardly blame her. Likely, she was a woman who had relationships, and none of these no-strings sexual encounters. All of it cut a bit too close to the bone for him. Because he was jaded, he could admit. He was the sort of man who had encounters like this all the time. With women who were accustomed to having them.

  They cost him nothing; it cost his lovers nothing. Not a moment’s worth of worry even. It made him feel guilty to know that she was worried now, but not enough that he would turn back. Because, while he still had a conscience left to burn, it was on life support. And it had very little say in the ultimate outcome of what he did.

  He really was a bastard.

  He did not deserve to put his hands on her. Rough, tattooed, fighter’s hands, stained with ink, stained with blood. The man he’d been...the boy he’d been before his world had changed forever could have been good enough for her. But he had not been allowed to remain that boy. He’d been forced to change, to adapt. And he had.

  He’d been pushed into violence, and so he’d become violent.

  In contrast, she was smooth, untouched by the world in many ways. And he knew it. There would be no pretending later. He knew what he was doing. And more importantly he knew what he would not be able to do for her after. He could offer her nothing. Nothing but this.

  But, though it should, it was not going to stop him.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said, feeling as if he was telling her a lie. “I have no desire to hurt you.” That much was true, though it might be inevitable.

  “I won’t turn back. I’ve made up my mind.” They paused in front of the door of the coat check, and Victoria handed the woman sitting at the front her numbered ticket. A black wrap and handbag appeared a moment later, and Victoria wasted no time in opening up the little clutch and producing the cuff he’d given her this morning.

  She extended her hand and placed it into his with trembling fingers. “See? I’m committed. I’m making this decision while not under the influence of lust. Well, not mind-numbing lust anyway. You aren’t talking me into it while you have me in a fog. We had the hour. We had this long walk over here. We even had this little talk about my nerves. And the answer is still yes. This cuff is still yours. And I still want you.”

  He had told her that the leather cuff he wore around his wrist meant nothing. He had lied. It was his father’s. And he had taken it off the man’s dead body in the moments after his life had exploded around him.

  A reminder.

  Of the fact that he was a changed man now, because his father had pushed him to decide between two impossible things: his life, or Dmitri’s and his mother’s.

  Of the fact that truly, there had been only one choice. It was only a matter of being strong enough to make it.

  And he was.

  He began to tie the cuff back around his wrist, just above his watch. “You have no idea how much this pleases me, milaya moya.”

  He realized his hands were shaking, too. There was something happening inside of him, a kind of shivering sensation taking him over. It was not like anything he’d felt before.

  The closest it came was to the moment just before he had taken that gun in his hands in a beautiful home in Moscow and pointed it at the man that he had always called father. He had felt something like this then. As though the control was slipping away from his grasp, as though everything was about change. As though life and death hung in the balance and if he did not make a decision quickly he would fall on the wrong side of it. As though all of life’s options had reduced down to one, one that was terrible, great, powerful and unavoidable.

  Yes, this strange trembling feeling was most comparable to that.

  To fear.

  But that was crazy. What man feared a naked woman? Certainly not him. He had seen countless naked women before, h
ad put his hands on them. Had been inside of them. Why should she be different?

  Because she is.

  And he had known that from the beginning, which was why he had taken great pains to avoid this. To avoid touching her, kissing her, wanting her. Because he had known even then that she was different. That this was different.

  Ridiculous. She might be different, but she was still just a woman.

  He gritted his teeth and turned to face her. “Shall we go?”

  “Yes, happily, we are already sharing a room so that takes away some of the awkwardness of the whole your-room-or-mine question.”

  “We do not have the same bedroom in the suite.”

  “Still, it eliminates the walk of shame risk.”

  “Victoria,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Stop talking.”

  She snapped her mouth shut, her crimson lips sealed tightly. He was tempted to make a dry comment about how rare this must be, but he refrained. This was not the time for jokes.

  She had been making them to clear the tension, and he had decided he did not want any of it diminished. He wanted this moment. All of it. All of her.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked them both down the corridor that led to the elevators. He pressed the button and waited in silence before they stepped inside, finding themselves shrouded in the relative privacy.