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‘That’s very generous.’
He’d heard the smile in her voice and grunted. Then he’d been unable to help himself. ‘And Eleanore? Is she going?’
‘Of course. The men all insisted. I think they’ve all grown really fond of her. She’s a real trooper.’
Really fond of her... Lukas stewed on that. He knew she and Greg had worked closely together these past two weeks to finish the project. But how close? Were they even now clinking glasses and toasting each other. Smiling and getting a little tipsy. Tipsy enough to take their business relationship into the personal realm?
‘Mr Kuznetskov? You look like you disapprove the idea?’
Lukas glanced up. ‘Nyet, nyet...I didn’t say that.’
His finance manager smiled broadly. ‘So it’s a go? Frankly we wondered if we weren’t pushing it a bit but the risk isn’t that big.’
Knowing he couldn’t tell the guy that he hadn’t heard a word he’d said Lukas cleared his throat. ‘Just, ah...just send the details through to my PA before you finalise things.’
‘Right.’ The man scrawled himself a note. ‘Now the head of HR has some exciting...’
‘Sorry,’ Lukas said, rising to his feet and buttoning his single-breasted jacket. It was time he stopped kidding himself about where he wanted to be. ‘I’ve just realised I need to get back to St Petersburg. I apologise for leaving early. Email me that exciting—’ What had he said? News? Plans? ‘—information and I’ll look at it over the weekend.’
* * *
Eleanore stared down at her shot glass of vodka. The men around her were chanting for her to down it and she rolled her eyes. ‘One and one only,’ she reiterated to the burly workmen around her with their beaming we’ve-just-finished-a-beast-of-a-job faces.
She crinkled her nose at the glass and tilted her head back. She had never been the shot glass kind of girl, not even at university, preferring beer or wine, but when in Russia... She held her breath and swallowed the clear liquid in one go.
Her co-workers cheered and someone clapped her on the back when she started coughing. Her throat burned and reminded her of the last time she’d accidently downed tequila a month ago at Glaciers. Then she’d been about to visit Lukas in his hotel room.
And why was she thinking of him again? She hadn’t seen him for two weeks. Two weeks of peace where she and Greg had been left alone to complete the hotel. It had been bliss.
Of course she had kept Lukas apprised of what was going on. Short, professional emails that had matched the equally short and cordial tone of his.
Just the way it should have been between them all along. And thank God she’d come to her senses when she had. If she hadn’t...if she hadn’t... She didn’t let her mind wander any further down that track. It was pointless. Career and men went together as well as lip gloss and windy weather and right now she was completely focused on the former.
Though there had been one good thing to come out of that night because Lukas’s comments had prompted her to write a lengthy email to Isabelle outlining how she felt and what she wanted. She’d never done that before. At least not with Isabelle, but that was because she admired her so much and hadn’t wanted to bother her. She never had done.
Back when they were kids Eleanore had been the pesky younger sister begging Isabelle to play dolls, or build Lego cities. Unfortunately Isabelle had been more interested in talking business with their father—even then—so Eleanore had often played alone or with Olivia when she’d had time. It had established a hero worship style of relationship between her and Isabelle that was probably well past its sell-by date.
And so far the only response she’d received to her email was that Isabelle would talk to her about it when she got to St Petersburg. Eleanore hoped the succinct reply had been because Isabelle was busy and not because she had pushed too hard.
‘Another Stoli, Eleanore?’
Eleanore turned toward big Dominic and raised her hand in the universal sign of stop. ‘Absolutely...’ The word not stalled in her throat as she saw Lukas wind his way between all the raucous bar crowd toward them. He was casually dressed, like everyone else, in low-slung jeans and boots, a black sweater and matching puffer jacket and he looked long and lean and lethally attractive.
Lethally male.
All Eleanore’s feminine hormones spiked at the sight of him and she told herself to forget about it. Told herself to forget how he kissed and how he tasted and how he smelt. Told herself to remember her goals.
