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All impressive, but it was Leonid Aristov’s Georgian Revival mansion that was the most impressive of all. Tucked between a canopy of trees as they climbed the hill, the redbrick mansion stood white-pillared and regal on rolling acres. Massive. She’d read it contained fifty-two rooms, including eighteen bedrooms and ten bathrooms, an Imperial-inspired ballroom and an underground bath that harked back to Roman times. As they continued to climb, she stared up at the structure gleaming with light. She’d never seen anything like it.
When they reached the top of the hill, they turned a corner and accessed the property from the official entrance off a quiet road cradled in the branches of giant oak trees. Limousines pulled to a halt in a parade of arrivals in the circular driveway.
Frankie tugged the low bodice of her dress up and checked her hair for the tenth time as they waited in the queue. Harrison shot her a quelling glance. “Stop fidgeting. You look perfect.”
She stuck her hands back in her lap. “I suppose you do this once a week.”
A fleeting smile crossed his lips. “Not once a week. Remember—they are people like you.”
Her heart did a little flip. He was breathtaking when he smiled. How had she ever thought Coburn the better-looking brother? Where Coburn was stunning in a flashy, attention-getting way, Harrison was devastating in a complex, unforgettable way. He had about fifty layers. She wondered if anyone ever got to the bottom of them. It made a woman want to try, that was for sure.
She removed her gaze from him. The only lover she’d had was a year-long relationship two years ago in college. What did she know about unpeeling layers? Heavens. She needed to focus on keeping her job, not unraveling her boss in a very distracting way.
The car slid forward to the pillared entrance. A white-gloved, uniformed staff member stepped forward to open the door. “Welcome to Gvidon House.”
Harrison stepped out and offered her his hand. She took it and emerged into the flashing bulbs of paparazzi cameras. He leaned down to her. “Gvidon House?”
She blinked against the blinding lights and rested her hand on his arm for balance. “He’s a prince from a Russian fairy tale. Apparently Leonid is a big fan of them.”
“Fairy tales?”
She nodded, settling her weight firmly on two feet as she eyed the red carpet. It seemed long and never ending.
Harrison set a hand to the small of her back to guide her toward it. “How do you know that?”
“I did my research.”
He gave her a measuring look. “Then you know his current girlfriend is Juliana Rossellini, who works for one of London’s top auction houses.”
“Who is fifteen years his junior.”
He nodded. “See if you can gain some intelligence about Leonid from her.”
She would, but right now she was too consumed by the distracting feeling of his palm on the bare skin of her back as the handlers indicated they could start down the carpet. It was big and warm. Comforting yet disconcerting at the same time.
His fingers increased their pressure on her skin. “Relax. Pretend it’s a walk in the park. You’re smelling the flowers...enjoying yourself.”
The park didn’t have fifty cameras stuck in her face. The park hadn’t just realized it was Harrison on the carpet, causing an unexpected buzz. They called his name as they moved forward. Frankie stuck the fakest smile of her life on her lips and held it.
“What if they connect us in the photo?”
His mouth quirked. “It wouldn’t do my reputation any harm having a stunning brunette on my arm. I’ve apparently been going through a dry spell.”
A stunning brunette. A flush she was certain would show up in the photographs deepened her cheeks. She was quite sure she didn’t compare to any of his beautiful escorts. She’d seen them. They were way out of her league.
“Does it bother you?” she asked. “Being in a constant media spotlight?”
He shrugged. “It’s been my life. You get used to it.”
They made it down the carpet without incident to the entrance where a queue was forming. People were removing their wraps, shoes... “Metal detector,” one of the greeters explained.
A metal detector?
Frankie looked around for something to hold on to while she took off her shoes. Harrison held out his elbow. “Why is it always the women’s shoes?” she complained.
His mouth curled. “Because they are weapons. With you, they could be a dangerous thing.”
She made a face at him. They made it through the metal detector unscathed and were directed to the terrace where the cocktails were being served. Frankie was gobsmacked by the scene. Some guests were milling about the exquisitely landscaped, multilevel terrace in the same formal wear she and Harrison had on, jewels dripping from their necks and ears. Others were lounging in the pool in bathing suits, cocktails in hand.
Her eyes widened at the sight of a diamond-encrusted blonde in the pool across the bridge. She was pretty sure those were real diamonds making up the hardly there bikini. They were just too sparkly not to be.
“Apparently,” she murmured to Harrison, “I just needed to bring my bathing suit. It would have been a lot cheaper.”
He gave her one of his dark, fathomless looks. “I think you’re a lot safer in the dress.”
The heat that passed between them was swift and unmistakable. She bit the inside of her mouth. Unfair, her eyes told him. I thought we were playing by the rules.
You asked for that one, his gaze flashed in return. Be honest.
She wanted to say she had no experience playing this game. That she was merely attempting to keep her job by attending this party. But he was already scouting the crowd. “Let’s make our way to the bar. We can look for our hosts along the way.”
They weren’t more than a few feet into the crowd when Harrison spotted Aristov. He nodded his head toward the far pool. “He’s in a tux, Juliana’s in a red dress.” Frankie found the couple easily, having also looked at photos of Leonid Aristov during her research. They stood out even among this decadent crowd with their superior, distinctive good looks. A definite power couple.
Harrison acquired a drink for them at the bar, then they wound their way around the candle-strewn lively pools until they were close enough to greet Aristov when he was finished his conversation. It was a good twenty minutes before the Russian made his way over to them with his entourage. She could feel Harrison’s powerful body gaining heat beside her with every minute that passed.
Harrison and Leonid exchanged greetings. Leonid, a tall, thin Russian with whiskey-colored eyes and a craggy attractive face, gave Frankie a kiss on each cheek, then introduced his tall, statuesque girlfriend, Juliana, and his second in command, Viktor Kaminski. Juliana was a jaw-droppingly beautiful brunette with just enough imperfections to make her fascinating. She gave Harrison an appreciative look as he kissed her on each cheek, then greeted Frankie. Viktor Kaminski, a ruddy-cheeked, slightly paunchy, not attractive Russian, brought Frankie’s hand to his mouth. “How lucky for Harrison,” he murmured against her fingers.
She retrieved her hand but couldn’t escape Viktor’s ardent admiration, particularly when Harrison mentioned she spoke Russian. He insisted she try it out with him while he told her all about the magnificent paintings up for auction that evening, a subject she knew nothing about but feigned interest in.
Thankfully she and Juliana, who was unpretentious and lovely, hit it off. When Leonid offered to introduce Harrison around, Juliana grabbed her hand. “I’ll take Francesca to get another glass of champagne. You are so boring when you talk business.”
“Good thing I shine in other areas,” Leonid came back with one of his crooked smiles.
Juliana gave him a saucy look as she took Frankie’s arm and led her through the crowd. “Two powerful, delicious men,” she murmured. “They look good together.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
At the bar, Juliana claimed two seats. Frankie sat down beside her. “Poor Viktor,” Juliana teased, “he so has the hots for you. But who would be interested in him when your boss looks like Harrison?”
“I’d like to keep my job.”
Juliana’s dark eyes sparkled. “You can always find another job...”
Not like hers. Not when she’d worked so hard to prove she could be a success. She hadn’t performed a ground-breaking open-heart surgery like her brother Emilio had.
Juliana caught the bartender’s attention and ordered them champagne. “Leonid says Harrison has big political ambitions...that a presidential run isn’t out of the question.”
“I wouldn’t mention that to him,” Frankie said drily. “He’ll feed you a whole spiel about how presidential candidates don’t really run. They lurk.”
“Still.” Juliana gave her a meaningful look. “Power is an aphrodisiac. And he is delicious.”
“He’s not hard to look at.”
“There’s tension between him and Leonid,” Juliana observed.
She kept her smile even. “I think Harrison is just anxious to close the deal. There seems to be a couple of minor sticking points.”
Juliana snorted. “I think they’re too much alike, that’s the problem. Leonid likes to be in control. So does Harrison. They’re alpha dogs of the highest order. Even if Leonid’s empire is crumbling in a very public way, his ego needs to be stroked.”
