I hated his parents, more than I’d ever hated anything in my entire life, and he hated mine.
Alexander’s hand lifted, his fingers hovering near my hair. He brushed the strands, and their softness tickled my neck. I tilted my head to lean into his touch. I didn’t even mean to; I just couldn’t fight this urge. It was such a small movement. It was nothing compared to the line we’d just blurred.
No, not blurred.Decimated.
I startled as the knob of one of the double doors into the room rattled and started turning.
Alexander, unfazed, moved away from me slowly. He was so controlled, his face a blank canvas waiting to shift into whatever response was warranted by the situation. A king in training.
The butler appeared as the doors opened wider.
“Your father requests your presence, Sir.” He bent at the waist, lowering his face and averting his eyes from where we stood, still so close together near the mirror.
“Of course,” Alexander nodded, then shifted his body just enough to glance at me, “It was good speaking with you, Mrs. Zolotov. I will be sure to report positively to my father. Second chances must continue to be earned.”
My stomach clenched, his words a brutal reminder of whose house I was in… a reminder of who I’d just slept with. “Thank you, Mr. Vasiliev.”
Alexander walked past the butler, and the latter didn’t move from his subservient position. Only when Alexander was out of sight did the sharply dressed servant stand up and direct his full attention to me.
“Mrs. Zolotov, your husband is waiting outside.”
“He’s… outside?” I questioned, confused. “It was my impression we were supposed to have dinner after he and Mr. Vasiliev spoke.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Zolotov, however plans have changed. Mr. Vasiliev had intended to dine with your husband, but has another last minute engagement.” It was a canned response.
Things hadn’t gone well. If they had, I would be heading to the dining room, or forgotten while Ivan and Eduard ate together to celebrate a repaired relationship. But if the meeting was over… and they had not had dinner, and we were not to have dinner… God, Ivan and I should be sitting at some sort of giant ornate table eating from pristine ornate plates and using gold-dipped silverware. Things should have gone well.They needed to have gone well.But instead, my husband was standing outside waiting for me. What had happened in that meeting…
If Ivan was angry with the outcome, he would make it last. He would make it hurt. The limo, with all of its room to maneuver. Heaven, how I hated it.
“Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before I leave?” I smiled sweetly, feeling my own hot wetness cooling on my inner thighs. I had to clean up before I left.
He led me out of the room and down the hall. The half bath was larger than our master bath at home, floating marble sink and elegant, curving faucet. Fancy hand towels were folded neatly beside decorative soaps.
I worked quickly, lifting the skirt of my dress up. I felt frantic, my pulse racing, so glad that Alexander had at least used a condom, making the clean-up a little easier. I couldn’t take too long, or it would seem suspicious. If Ivan asked about my lack of panties, I would simply tell him that I had not worn any, eager to be ready for his touch after the dinner. He would admonish me for acting less than virtuous when I was supposed to meet Evelina Vasiliev, but secretly he would be pleased that I wanted him.
“Fuck,” I muttered, scrubbing myself as well as I could before patting myself dry with one of the expensive monogrammed towels. It wrinkled instantly, making it obvious that someone had used it. I smoothed it as best I could, hands shaking. Every time I caught a glance of myself in the large mirror, I saw the flush to my cheeks and myjust fuckedhair. He would know but I didn’t know how to hide it. I couldn’t stop the heat from my cheeks and chest, the warmth that still ran through my body, or the feeling of swollen tenderness where Alexander had just been, but if I stayed here any longer, Ivan would be furious with me.
The butler was still waiting for me when I exited the bathroom, and I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. We were almost to the door, when someone called out the butler’s name to stop him.
“Dusan, please tell the Zolotovs that since Father cannot host them for dinner this evening, that we will find a time to reschedule with the full complement of Vasiliev hospitality.”
I felt frozen, staring out the crystal-clear glass of the ornate front entrance. Ivan was standing on the stoop, the limo idling in front of him. He glanced back at the house, and I saw the rage written across his expression. I did not want to step out of this house and get in a vehicle with him right now. I wished to be walking back to Alexander, that we might have dinner now, without his father, so as to delay what would likely be a brutal ride home with Ivan.
But, also, a thrill shot through me. Alexander’s words meant that we would see each other again, and hopefully soon.
Not able to suppress a soft smile, I turned from the door to face the son of the man who’d killed my parents. When I looked at him, though, I knew in my mind I could separate him from that, because now he wasn’t just the child of a murderer, he was a man who’d given me some of the best minutes of my life. I didn’t want this to be an ‘after’, one in which he’d gotten what he’d wanted, and we would move forward to be polite strangers.
“Rescheduling dinner would be lovely, Mr. Vasiliev. Thank you.” I spoke softly, dipping my head demurely.
“We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Zolotov. I look forward to speaking with you again. Our conversation tonight was… insightful,” Alexander’s voice lowered as he spoke, and promises swirled around his words.
When the butler opened the door, Ivan angrily told me to hurry up. I hated walking out of the door and hated leaving Alexander. Ivan’s rage made my stomach hurt.
Every step felt like the long hand of a clock ticking, counting down the seconds until I could touch Alexander again. Until then, I’d have to endure my husband.
Ivan’s anger lessened some when the butler passed along Alexander’s promise of dinner later with the entire Vasliev family. But he still wasn’t happy.
For once, and to my surprise, he didn’t touch me on the way home. And then he went directly to his study, leaving me to my own devices.
