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She did. She was enjoying it far too much. Plato was being utterly outrageous, expecting her just to up and follow him across the world, and she really shouldn’t be so compliant. She’d fled Houston vowing she would never let other people make her decisions for her ever again. It made no sense to let Plato Kuragin call the shots now…except for the thrill it gave her. She liked it. She liked the way he knew what he wanted and went after it, and how he seemed to know what she wanted too.
It was as if all those longings to let loose and behave wildly, repressed during her college years with a passive Bill, were rising to the surface, stirred up by proximity to this big, dominant man.
Sure, her life was here, and his was there—as he’d put it so succinctly—but how often did a guy like this appear on your doorstep? And, goodness, she liked him an awful lot. It was just that she got the impression Plato also liked a whole lot of other things. Namely, his comfort, getting his own way, and clearly—from the tabloid reports—Nordic blondes and Scandinavian skyscrapers. She really needed to ask him about that orgy on the yacht…
Then it struck her. For all his rather liberal sex life had been so colourfully reported over the last few weeks in the tabloids, he had been the one to slow things down upstairs. He had also been amazingly tender with her, and incredibly hot.
If she gave way to his wishes—and something told her she would—what would happen then? It was the not knowing, she suspected, that gave her such a charge. It had been so long since she’d felt comfortable enough to let a man take the reins.
It’s not just him, she thought, startled, it’s me. I’m changing. I feel confident enough to know I can snatch back those reins any time I see fit.
This was her chance to let go of being the fairy godmother and step into Cinderella’s glass slippers.
Rose moistened her lips. ‘I think my passport is in my desk drawer, but it’s a mess. It might take some time to find it.’
Plato’s big hand slid down her hip, over her bottom. ‘I will help you look.’
‘Somehow I don’t think that’s going to speed up the process. You go and explain to Mrs Padalecki that I’m going away for the weekend. She’ll be concerned if she doesn’t see me coming in and out.’
‘I think I am already having far too much to do with Mrs Padalecki,’ commented Plato, but his hand moved away and Rose found she could concentrate a little better.
‘What time is the flight?’ she asked a tad breathlessly over her shoulder as she padded barefoot down the hall. She couldn’t quite believe she was doing this.
Plato frowned. ‘Rose, we won’t be flying on a commercial plane. Malenki, I have a jet.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course you do,’ Rose said, rolling her eyes. ‘What was I thinking?’
CHAPTER NINE
PLATO glanced at the delicate profile of the woman sitting beside him, his hand tightening around the wheel of the Ferrari. She had such a soft look about her, and it was playing havoc with his more cynical side. Did she know what she was getting into? For that matter, did he?
The intensity of whatever this was between them made what should be a straightforward weekend in Moscow feel more like a leap into the unknown. He’d been telling himself since he issued the invitation that this didn’t need to be anything other than about right now. He’d give her a taste of Moscow…him…and send her home happy. Da, she was a traditional sort of girl—but not so traditional she hadn’t leapt into this car with him.
A more knowing hardness entered his eyes. He could put his conscience on ice. Rose was a smart girl. She’d proved at every turn she knew what she was doing.
She had her laptop open on her knee and was intent on the screen. He would have preferred her attention on him. She was saying something about Sasha’s ad being up on YouTube. He smiled to himself. She really was proud of this little internet business of hers. Another reason she wouldn’t want to be away too long…
‘Clever. It won’t do Rykov any harm.’ He paused, then decided it couldn’t hurt to tell her. ‘He’ll be signing with an NHL team tomorrow.’
‘You’re kidding?’ A big smile broke across Rose’s face as she turned to him. ‘That’s fantastic—or is it? It means he won’t be playing for the Wolves.’
‘No, it’s great news,’ he responded, trying not to get too distracted by that smile. ‘He deserves it.’
‘Doesn’t it ever bother you? Training up these great players and then losing them to Canadian and American teams?’
‘No, that’s the point, malenki, that’s why I do it. Take Rykov. He comes from a town without much to offer a kid. He’s not academically minded. He probably would have ended up in the mines with his father. But he’s got this skill. He can play hockey.’
‘It’s a way out and up,’ said Rose. ‘I get it.’
He glanced at her again. She was a smart girl. He liked that about her. Beautiful and smart and…funny. He really liked the funny. He wondered idly what her reaction would be if he told her what he’d come from, how he’d made his own way up and out. Would she judge, or would she respect the outcome? He caught the drift of his thoughts. Why in the hell did he care? He wouldn’t be seeing her again after this weekend.
‘Wait a minute.’ She turned those big blue eyes on him. ‘Did you factor all this in when you let Sasha loose on me?’
Da, smart. ‘I would have given you a couple of players regardless, but I have to say when it came to making the choice of who to send your way Rykov’s future was at the forefront of my mind.’
‘I wish you’d told me that at dinner,’ she said a little awkwardly, surprising him. ‘I wouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry for calling you names and making threats and…other things.’
Was she apologising to him?
