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I consider his words. “Do you mean that?” Because when he puts it like that, it sounds rather sweet.
“Yes,” he replies with determination. “Believe me when I say I had no ill intentions, Katyusha. I love what you wear.” His gaze darkens. “In fact, I prefer it when you wear nothing at all.”
A wave of heat works its way up my neck at the lust in his eyes and the heat in his tone. “I guess then there’s only one thing to say.”
He waits.
“Thank you.”
His smile is so warm it feels as if the sun is shining from the ceiling of his dining room. “You’re welcome. Now, with that settled, eat.”
Feeling a few tons lighter, I dip my spoon into the soup and take a sip. “Mm. This is delicious.”
“I’m glad you approve.” He lifts a bottle of wine from an ice bucket. “Pinot Noir? Chilled to the right temperature, it complements the soup nicely, but if you’d prefer, I can get a bottle of white from the cellar.”
“The red will do, thank you.” After he’s poured us each a glass, I wave at his bowl of soup, which is identical to mine. “You don’t have to avoid meat on my behalf. I know you’re not a vegetarian.”
He smiles. “I asked Marusya to cater to your diet from now on.”
I pause with my spoon midway in the air. “Now I feel bad.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Really?”
“Don’t worry. If I want a steak, I’ll ask her to cook me one. For now, I’m good with this.”
“All right.” I’m getting whiplash at how fast we’re laying down the rules of our new living arrangement. Not only do I have a new wardrobe of fancy clothes, but Alex’s household is turning vegetarian to accommodate me.
“Speaking of events,” he says, “I have a business dinner on Saturday night. I was hoping you’d join me.”
“Oh.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin when Marusya enters with a soufflé and a salad that she places in the center of the table.
“Cheese soufflé,” she announces proudly, clearing away our bowls. “French menu tonight.”
“Wow, that looks gorgeous.” She’s already at the door as I add, “Thank you so much.”
Alex takes my plate to serve me. “Well? I know you’re not working on Saturday night.”
“My best friend, Joanne, suggested we go out with her and her friend Ricky. She’d like to meet you, but we can move that to another day.”
“And I’d like to meet them, just at any other time.” He puts the plate in front of me and dishes up a helping of salad on the side. “Let me know when so I can add it to my calendar.”
“Great.” I iron out my napkin. “How did you know I’m off on Saturday?”
He stills in the middle of dishing up for himself. “I have contacts everywhere in this city. It’s imperative in my business.”
“Does that mean you have access to any information you want?”
“Just about,” he admits without flinching.
I pick up my knife and fork. “Right. Does money buy you everything?”
“Not everything.” He reaches across the table and clasps my hand in his big, warm palm. “Money can’t buy you love. Isn’t that how the saying goes here in America?”
My throat is suddenly dry. “That’s right,” I manage to say. “How does it go in Russia?”
He brings his glass to his lips. “We say that love doesn’t fill an empty stomach.”
“That sounds a bit cynical,” I say with a small laugh.
Behind the brilliant blue of his eyes, something hard flashes. “Only to those who don’t know what it feels like to go hungry.” Then the look is gone, replaced by his soft smile. “Now, thanks to Igor getting shot, I have everything.”
I’m unable to look away from the magnetic pull of his gaze. “Do you?”
“I have money, power, and the only woman I can’t seem to get out of my mind.”
I dampen my lips. “Money and power can be dangerous. Getting shot at seems like a steep price to pay.”
“But the woman at my side is a nurse. What more can a man who’s being shot at ask for?”
“Not to be shot at?”
He squeezes my fingers and releases my hand. “It’s unavoidable in my business.”
“The oil business? I don’t see other oil barons getting shot at.”
Leaning closer, he says in a low voice, “But I’m so much more than that, my love. You already know that.”
21
As far as sayings go, there’s another one about love. They say love makes you blind. I’m not worldly or sophisticated like my oligarch boyfriend, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that when it comes to business, he doesn’t play dirty. He’s already admitted to dealing with the mafia, but is that where it ends?
I consider his confession as I get dressed for the party on Saturday night. Since the evening he confessed in not so many words to be a dangerous man, I’ve done my own background check on him. I’ve pulled up every article and piece of information about Alex Volkov I could get my hands on.
