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“The first option depends on me; I’d have to want that too. As for the second option, it’d earn you a lawsuit for wrongful dismissal.”

“Who’s the man who answered the phone when I called you yesterday?”

“You called me on my cell phone?”

“Yes, and apparently you weren’t alone… Who’s the guy?”

He’s my sister’s guy, but Vadim doesn’t need to know that.

“And it’s your business because…?”

“Answer me, Alma. You wanted us to be honest with each other, didn’t you?”

“Right… You’re with Grace Montgomery, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Grace and I haven’t promised each other anything. We’re dating, having a good time, nothing more.”

“And I don’t get to do the same? You’re enjoying your freedom, so let me live my life, Arcadi!” I snap, exasperated. “If you want to be with me, and for us to be exclusive, all you have to do is have the guts to ask.”

Vadim doesn’t seem to appreciate being backed into a corner. If he really thought I’d let him decide everything for me, he doesn’t know me very well. Yes, he loved the sweet, fragile Alma he knew back then, but maybe he doesn’t like the woman I’ve become. If that’s the case, all he has to do is say so. I hold his stormy gaze for several long seconds, without wavering. This silent duel could go on until morning for all I care; I’m not ready to back down.

Eventually, his features relax. His eyes soften, and a faint smile appears on his face. Vadim bites his lip as if hesitating over his choice of words, then decides not to say anything. He runs a hand through his silky hair, then stands up. The connection is broken, and I kick myself for pretending to be so tough. He’s admitted he’s obsessed with me, but my ego has ruined everything again. The evening is coming to an end, we’re going to part ways… and lose each other again along the way. Tomorrow, he’ll have forgotten all about this.

“Alma Lancaster,” he murmurs in a warm voice as he gently pulls my chair back.

Standing behind me, he leans forward slightly, his arms brushing my bare shoulders. I stand up, flustered by the sudden attention and trying not to stumble. Once on my feet, I’m mere inches from him, and the closeness makes me instantly light-headed.

I search within myself for the strength to push everything else aside. My fears, our jobs, his girlfriend, my pride. I just want to kiss him, bury my face in the crook of his neck, press myself against him, let myself desire him. I don’t care anymore who’s right and who’s wrong. I want to enjoy the moment while there’s still time.

Vadim seems to have the same idea. His bright gaze locked on mine, he caresses my cheek, takes my hand, then leans in and whispers a few words I find impossible to resist: “So, are we going to my place?”

***

I don’t have time to visit the small sitting room adjoining the larger one, nor to figure out the difference between the office and the library. Vadim lifts me off my feet the moment we step out of the elevator that brought us up to the top floor of the palatial suite in the luxury hotel where he lives. I laugh as he carries me across the sprawling space before finally setting me down. My feet touch the floor again, but my mind is still floating. I’m already far away. He strokes my face, looking at me as if he has never seen me this close before. He leans in to kiss me, then pulls back, frowning.

“You are many things to me, Alma, but you are absolutely not a booty call.” There is a gravity in his voice.

I nod slowly, my eyes locked on his, my heart pounding wildly. “Message received.”

I watch his lips, still parted slightly, even though he isn’t speaking anymore. I move closer to him. Time stops. Silence envelops us. I love that we are both delaying this kiss as if it were sacred. As if we already know how intoxicating, moving, dizzying, it will be. As if we are about to experience one of those unforgettable moments that exist outside of time—the kind you never forget. This is what happens when he and I kiss.

The Vadim + Alma effect.

Our mouths are drawn together with a deliberate slowness that electrifies me. Then, when our lips are almost brushing, a cry rings out through the room.

Grace Montgomery appears in the open doorway. I jump, and Vadim instinctively steps between us. The actress’s face is streaked with tears, but she doesn’t say a word.

Suddenly, it hits me: I am “the other woman,” the mistress, the heartless bitch stealing her man. I’m ashamed. It’s true they are neither married nor engaged, but I don’t know how she feels about him. Or if her heart is breaking right now.

“How could you do this to me, Vadim?!” she sobs.

“Grace, I told you we weren’t spending the night together. You had other plans, too.”

“And you forgot to tell me you’d be spending it with someone else!”

“You accepted my arrangement, my terms. You knew this could happen. What’s changed?”

“Everything! Everything has changed!”