Page 26 of Lord of Passion

"One of our wealthiest guests," Sergei says with a chuckle. "Miroslava Balabanova, her family is unimaginably wealthy. One of the oldest and mostrespectedfamilies here in Moscow."

The way he leans into the word respected tells me he means Bratva.

"Do you entertain manyrespectedfamilies here?" I ask.

His gaze is still following the woman as she ignores the concierge obsequiously guiding her to the elevator. "We do," he says. "In part because we are owned by arespectedfamily, so they know we understand their tastes, and the need for discretion." He looks at me with the smallest wink. "Also, because they are almost insanely spoiled, and they know that we will pet and soothe them, just as they require."

"You're a very patient man, Sergei," I say, going back to my crab. We finish dinner with a glorious round of desserts. I'm swooning over the many small plates of perfectly presented cakes and pastries. "This is heaven," I sigh, taking a bite of the berry tart with Rousselot pears.

He chuckles, trying to hide it behind his napkin.

"What? I ask, my fork hovering over the Pavlova, a cream dessert piped into the glass to look like a tutu topped with a white chocolate form of a ballerina with her arms raised.

"Well, the phrase 'snacks', as well as small edibles did come up several times in your keyword analysis," he chuckles. "Half the fun of preparing for your visit was researching what you would enjoy most." He looks sincerely regretful. "I'm only sorry we couldn't obtain Cheetos for you. At least not the large, puffy ones that I know you enjoy."

"That computer program issinister,"I say admiringly. "You know too much."

He laughs again and gestures to our server, who brings out a delicate white box with another twenty tiny desserts packed reverently between a violet ribbon.

"I will never get through this box of treats and if I did, I would never be able to get through my suite's doorway," I protest.

Sergei waves his hand negligently. "One never knows when one might wake up in the middle of the night, and suddenly be struck with a desire for small, tasty sweets. "

"You are pure evil," I say. "And may I say I find that to be your most attractive quality?"

I cringe, did that sound like a compliment or a come-on? I didn't intend to sound that way. It was the desserts. I was feeling very tender about them. We're heading toward the elevator now and his steps slow at that statement.

"You know, I keep a suite here at the hotel," he says, his warm brown eyes on mine. "Would you like to come up for a drink?"

I open my mouth to give the patented, "I'm so flattered but I don't get involved with colleagues" speech…

…Just as fucking Nikandr comes stomping up with his security and a slightly amused Vasilisa.

"Hey Vasilisa," I say, "nice to see you again."

"You as well, Caroline Basha," she nods, her gaze moving between an uncomfortable Sergei and Nikandr, who looks incensed. Why isheupset?

"Miss Basha doesn't have time for a nightcap," Nikandr says sharply. He's using his considerable height to loom over poor Sergei. "She has work requirements in the morning and this is a business trip, not sex tourism."

The sheer magnitude of outrage I feel is breathtaking.

"You absolute-"

"I did not intend anything untoward to Miss Basha-"

"We are finished here," Nikandr cuts us off.

Mouth tight, Sergei gives me a polite nod and disappears down another hall as I turn on Nikandr. "How fuh-"

An older couple and a rumpled-looking businessman join us at the elevator. My mouth shuts with a snap. To my fury, Nikandr not-quite shoves me into the elevator when the doors open and then his security surrounds us quickly, pushing the 'close' button before the other guests can join us.

I'm stationed next to the panel, subtly hitting the 12th floor button repeatedly with my elbow. Nikandr's condemning gaze lands on my dessert box.

"What is that?" he asks with a tone so acidic that it could burn a hole through metal. "Agift?"

Glaring at him, I flip the lid open. "It's dessert. Just dessert, not crotchless underwear."

Nikandr's gaze lands on the tiny cakes and tarts and I swear his pupils expand like there is a naked woman lounging in the box instead. "Is that marzipan?"