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What I’ve learned baffles me. There’s no information about his childhood or teenage years. From what I could gather, he entered a business school in Russia at nineteen. After graduating, he got a job at a major Russian oil company and quickly worked his way from the ground up, winning the favor of senior management and making powerful alliances both in the business world and in the Russian government—alliances that he parlayed into starting an oil company of his own after discovering a new oil field in Siberia.
He fast became as wealthy and powerful as the oligarchs of old who gained their wealth with the fall of the Soviet Union. His hostile takeover of a Ukrainian oil company that was owned by a descendant of Russian royalty made international news. The deal is said to have catapulted him from billionaire to zillionaire status. By his early thirties, he’d already diversified his holdings, acquiring real estate and stakes in various international companies. His influence has continued to rise since, and his advice is said to be valued by politicians and tradesmen alike, his name connected to several high-profile Russian trade deals.
It’s both awe-inspiring and intimidating to know what kind of man I’m dating. When I was still in high school, he was already on the cover of Forbes, and by the time I started college, he was voted one of the most eligible bachelors in Russia. There’s never been a shortage of women in his life. To my dismay, I’ve also learned that he has a reputation as a playboy, having been linked with famous models and actresses from around the world. However, he’s never been seen with the same woman on his arm more than once.
I suppose tonight makes me a debutante of sorts. If I make it to a second night out with my Russian playboy, it will make the news. To say I’m nervous about the upcoming event is an understatement. I now understand why he insisted on giving me a wardrobe full of suitable clothes.
Taking a step back from the vanity, I study my reflection in the mirror. The long red dress drapes softly around my frame. The color goes well with my complexion, and the fabric is kind to my curves. With a high neckline and low back, it’s a flattering cut. The bodice fits snuggly while the skirt flares out from my hips. Since I’m relatively tall, the hem ends just above my ankles, exposing my exquisite strappy silver heels. The shoes aren’t practical for the weather, but practical isn’t what I’m aiming for.
Instead of letting my hair dry naturally, I visited a salon for a change. It took an hour for the stylist to blow-dry my hair straight before taking it up in a simple but stylish French roll. I spent another hour applying my makeup, going for a darker eyeshadow that makes the green flecks in my hazel eyes pop and a paler lipstick that gives my lips extra volume.
To finish off my look, I splurged and got a manicure and pedicure while having my hair done. I’m not wearing much jewelry, though, because nothing I own fits the dress. My only accessory is the silver ring with the rose design my mom gave me for my twenty-first birthday.
With five minutes to spare, I give myself a last critical once-over, then grab the clutch that came with the dress and make my way to the door. I’m about to exit the bedroom when Alex enters, looking mouthwateringly handsome in a tux and bowtie.
“Hey,” he says in a low voice, dragging his gaze over me.
My throat goes dry, my reply scraping over my vocal cords. “Hey.”
He takes my hand and makes me twirl. “Look at you.”
“You like?” I ask when I come to a breathless halt facing him again.
“More than like.” His tone turns husky. “Although there’s nothing sexier than you in nursing scrubs.”
I swat his arm. “What is it with men and nurse costumes?” Tony always wanted me to get dressed up in a slutty nurse uniform when he’d had a drink too many.
“Oh, there are quite a few male fantasies I could enlighten you about, but since I’m the only one allowed to fantasize about you, only my fantasies matter.”
“And what are your fantasies?” I ask, smiling up at his harshly handsome face.
“You in my bed is enough. I’ve fantasized about that since the moment I set eyes on you.”
The deep timbre of his voice strokes over my senses, lighting sparks in my belly.
“I have something for you,” he says, taking a small velvet box from his pocket.
My heart skips a beat when he hands it to me. It’s a box every woman recognizes on sight, a box that can only house one thing—jewelry. I flip back the lid to reveal two red stones surrounded by sparkling white ones.
