Outside, the estate's lawn glowed green in the afternoon sun, but my attention wasn't on those perfectly manicured hedges. For two days, my mind had been stuck on that night in Nikolai's room—how close we'd been, his breath on my face, those gray eyes boring into me like he wanted to swallow me whole.
And that heat. God, that burning heat.
I shook my head hard, trying to clear out the mess, but my stupid heart kept hammering against my ribs like it was on cocaine.
Christ, Vivienne Cole, get a grip! You're not actually falling for that arrogant bastard, are you?
No. Absolutely not. I buried my face in my hands with a silent groan.
This is just biology, Vivienne. You haven't been with a man in too long, so of course you're reacting to someone hot with a good body.
This has nothing to do with love.
This is a goddamn contract with a price tag, and once the year'sup, I'll take my check and fly off to Hawaii to keep a surf instructor with an eight-pack. Yeah. That's the plan.
I took a deep breath, set the coffee cup down hard on the windowsill, and got up to change. Today was day three—the last day of training. Get through this, and I could escape that damned magic wand and Gable's perpetually pinched face.
That thought improved my mood. Slightly.
At two p.m., when I stood in that sun-drenched conservatory again, reality smashed my pink fantasies to pieces with one brutal punch.
"Very good, Ms. Cole. After two days of intensive correction, your frame and basic footwork have barely reached passing level."
Dance instructor Patrick stood elegantly in the center of the wooden floor, that damned black baton spinning in his fingers with a whoosh that made my skin crawl. His tone was warm but completely devoid of warmth. "Today is the final assessment. To cultivate chemistry between you and Mr. Volkov, he will personally serve as your partner for the simulation test."
What?
Before I could react, the heavy double doors to the conservatory swung open.
Nikolai strode in with that steady, elegant gait. For once, he wasn't wearing one of those oppressive black suits—instead, he had on a crisp charcoal silk shirt, the collar arrogantly open two buttons, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing sinewy forearms covered in old scars. That silver hair gleamed coldly in the harsh sunlight, and those dark gray eyes visibly quirked up when they landed on me.
Looking at him, my thigh muscles and lower back started throbbing again—the humiliation of that night came roaring back, when he'd pinned me against the bed, eyes raking over my soaked white shirt.
"Hope your performance today matches how steady you were when you talked back to me in the dining room, firecracker." He stopped in front of me, bringing with him that intensecedar scent mixed with faint liquor, looking down at me from his height as he extended his large, callused right hand.
No way out.
"Of course, boss man."
I plastered on a flawlessly sweet fake smile and placed my left hand in his palm. His hand was big and hot, and the moment our hands clasped, that domineering, familiar sense of control burned up through my fingertips straight into my spine.
Patrick pressed the button on the antique gramophone. The waltz's dramatic, grand orchestral intro instantly shattered the quiet in the conservatory.
"One, two, three, step—"
Nikolai's large hand locked onto my waist, that shocking strength instantly commandeering my center of gravity. Our bodies pressed tightly together the instant the music started, gliding and spinning across the smooth wooden floor with the rhythm.
The first eight counts barely passed, the music hitting a perfect spinning accent.
The sweetness vanished from my eyes. Using the momentum Nikolai gave me in the spin, I subtly shifted all my weight downward, and with my right foot—that seven-centimeter stiletto heel sharp as a nail—I aimed for his polished custom leather shoes and stomped down hard with everything I had!
A deep, brief, restrained grunt escaped from Nikolai's chest.
His gliding steps faltered for a split second, but his powerful core strength forced the mistake into submission. Those dark gray eyes instantly froze into blocks of ice, radiating a nearly tangible, terrifying pressure as they locked onto my face.
I stared right back at him without blinking, my blue eyes full of innocence and confusion, even batting my lashes affectedly twice. "Oh God, I'm sorry, darling. That spin had so much centrifugal force, my foot must've slipped."
Nikolai's sharp jawline went rigid, his hand at my waist tightening until it felt like he'd crush my ribs. "Is that so, Vivienne? Then I suggest you plant your feet more carefully with every step."
