Page 3 of Vienna Bliss

Alena stalked out of the ground floor parlor, which Rolf had taken over as a temporary command post. The agents who’d come with them had been given rooms in the Vatican wing of the house.

Ruslan, whose eyes were still puffy and red despite a milk bath, had spoken with the household staff. She hadn’t overheard what he’d said, what possible explanation he could have given that would make them accept that the people who’d only hours ago broken into the house and taken them prisoner were now to be treated as guests.

Alena walked briskly towards the stairs. Halfway up, she realized she had no idea where she was going. The second floor of this wing had the sitting room whose windows and French doors had been destroyed by Rolf’s overzealous morons, the gallery, and off of that, Alexander’s office.

The room she’d used to shower, the room where her ransacked luggage was waiting, was in a completely different wing, and she had no confidence in her ability to navigate the twisting innards of the villa to find it again.

She could sleep on the bed in the playroom.

Or the couch in the office.

Until the day she died, she’d remember every detail of both rooms. But it was in the office that her life had changed over the course of a few hours.

She’d had more than enough emotional revelations and surprises for today—though at this point it might be near midnight. She was tired, hungry, hurting, and just wanted a bed. She didn’t want to walk back into Alexander’s office and face the too-fresh memories.

Not that they were all bad. In fact, they were mostly good memories.

But they weren’t light and soft. They were heavy, spiky things that had ripped up her world and life as she knew it.

“Alena.”

She glanced up. Her indecision had stopped her on the mid-point of the staircase, and she had no idea how long she’d been standing here, staring vacantly at the carvings of leaves worked into the rise of the treads.

Alexander stood at the top, his shoulders and head silhouetted by the lights.

“Alexander.”

He held out a hand. “Come to bed.” He paused. “If…if you’d like to.” He cleared his throat. “The first part should have been a question.”

A half-hysterical laugh of relief and amusement bubbled up inside her. Alena jogged up the stairs and into his arms.

She laid her cheek on his shoulder, tucked her forehead against his neck, and twined her arms around his waist.

Alexander’s arms slid around her back, and his cheek rested against her head.

They’d never held one another like this, a comforting, comfortable embrace that she associated with longtime lovers. Not two people who had, only hours ago, been exchanging emotional barbs that left each other the walking wounded.

Though she had some physical aches and pains she needed to deal with too. For the past two hours, she’d been sitting across a desk from Rolf while they had Agent de Gaul on speakerphone. And as she sat there, the pain medicine wore off and her ass started to throb. She hadn’t dared get up, not when the man sitting across from her was a Dom. The revelation about Rolf’s longstanding membership at the Orchid Club was something she’d need to think about, and would most definitely share with Alexander.

She hadn’t wanted to risk that Rolf would guess exactly why she needed to stand up, so she’d remained seated, even as the pain grew so intense that she bit the inside of her lip.

“I need to lie down, and I need aspirin.”

Alexander cursed in German, then kissed the top of her head. With one arm around her, holding her against his side, he guided them through what she was starting to think of as the Moldovan wing.

He brought her to a room whose door was tucked down a short, nondescript hallway. He opened it and guided her in.

She couldn’t help it, she held her breath as she waited to see if he would be inside with her, or on the outside, the door locked behind him.

“I can send someone for your case,” Alexander squeezed her shoulder and then glided away.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

“Let them sleep.” Alena leaned her shoulder against the wall by the door and watched as Alexander strode away.

It was an odd room and would have fascinated her if she weren’t so distracted by pain and worry. It was L-shaped, with the door at the bottom corner. After studying the view out the many windows, she realized that this room probably spanned two wings. The long side of the L was in the Moldovan wing, while the short corner was situated within, what was from the outside, a replica of the Vatican.