One Kiss In… Moscow. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ The saleswoman reached for a gown that was a column of black silk, elegant and stark.

      ‘Okay.’ It was her third shopping trip in as many days and by now Hannah had stopped bothering to have an opinion about any of the clothes Sergei insisted on buying her. Since they’d arrived in Paris she felt as if he were putting her in her place and it wasn’t a comfortable fit.

      He’d distanced himself, made her feel like … like a mistress. What an awful thought. Yet clearly an imbalance existed in their relationship. An inequality.

      Who was she kidding, Hannah thought as she slipped into the rather severe black dress. They didn’t even have a relationship. They’d had three days of some spectacular sex and a few tender moments. That was all.

      Yet she loved those moments, loved bantering with Sergei, watching those ice-blue eyes soften to sky when she made him laugh. Yet she felt as if Sergei was wearing his authority and power like a shield, armour that kept him closed off from every emotion.

      Even so, those rare moments were enough to make her feel different, lighter, almost a return to the woman she’d once been. The woman who believed in hope, and happiness, and maybe even love.

      No. She couldn’t go there. Couldn’t afford to think like that, because she knew it wasn’t true. Hadn’t the last year taught her anything? Matthew’s deception, her parents’ trickery, even Sergei himself. His brutal rejection back in Moscow still had the power to wound, and now she was only here because he wanted her to be. And when he stopped …

      ‘Hannah?’ Impatience edged Sergei’s voice and Hannah took a deep breath.

      ‘Coming.’ She left the changing room, her steps awkward and mincing in the tight black column of a dress. Sergei’s eyes narrowed as he took in the latest fashion.

      ‘No.’ He turned back to his BlackBerry, punched in a few numbers.

      ‘No?’ Hannah stood there, feeling ridiculous and a little bit vulnerable, hating that Sergei said no so quickly. Held so much sway.

      He looked up again, and in his eyes she saw another swift assessment and dismissal of the dress, of her. ‘No.’

      ‘Of course,’ the saleswoman murmured, attempting to lead her away. ‘We’ll try something else.’

      Hannah jerked her arm away from the woman and stared at Sergei. ‘Why no?’

      ‘Because I don’t like black.’

      ‘You were dressed all in black when I first met you,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘You liked it well enough then.’

      Sergei’s eyes narrowed. ‘All right,’ he said, his tone clearly conveying that she was stretching his patience, ‘I don’t like black on you. It makes you look washed out.’

      Hannah blinked. Ouch, even if she kind of agreed with him. She still didn’t like how autocratic and distant he was being. She’d wanted to resist this whole shopping expedition, but she hadn’t had the strength or a really good reason to. She was already accepting his largesse by getting on the plane, staying in the hotel, sleeping with him every night. Wasn’t this all part of the package?

      Yet still something about it felt wrong. Sordid and cheap, no matter how much money Sergei was shelling out. Silently she turned and went back to the dressing room.

      ‘Perhaps something brighter …’ the saleswoman murmured, ruffling through racks of clothing, but Hannah just shook her head.

      ‘I’m done.’

      The saleswoman looked alarmed; Hannah supposed Sergei’s mistresses weren’t meant to object to him dropping a fortune on their clothes. Yet already she was tired of playing the game. Fed up with acting like being showered with clothes and ordered around was what she wanted. The only times she’d enjoyed these last three days were the ones where she didn’t feel like an expensive ornament, the moments where they had actually been real with each other. She could count them on one hand.

      She slid the dress off and rummaged through the discarded gowns for the simple jeans and tee shirt she’d entered the boutique in. They weren’t there. She looked up, saw the saleswoman eyeing her with obvious apprehension.

      ‘Where are my clothes?’

      ‘Mr Kholodov asked me to get rid of them—’

      ‘Rid of them?’ Without another word she stalked out of the changing room, the rings of the curtain clattering against one another as she pushed it aside.

      Sergei looked up from his BlackBerry, his eyes flaring as he took her in standing there in just her underwear. At least her bra and panties, worn as they might be, were her own.

      Then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile and he lounged back against the sofa, his thumb still punching buttons. ‘Aren’t you a little cold?’

      ‘No,’ she said, hands on her hips, ‘I’m not cold. I’m angry.’

      ‘Angry?’

      She raised her eyebrows. ‘You know that word?’

      Now his smile disappeared and he tossed his phone onto the sofa, leaning forward so Hannah could see the dangerous glitter in his eyes. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly. ‘I know that word.’

      ‘I don’t want you to buy me clothes, Sergei.’

      He arched an eyebrow. ‘You have an objection to being clothed?’

      ‘You know what I mean.’

      ‘Actually, I don’t.’ He gazed at her levelly, staring her down, and from the ice in his eyes Hannah knew he wasn’t going to try to understand what she meant, or where she was coming from. He didn’t want to. And how could she explain? It wasn’t just about the clothes. It was about everything, about them, and what she’d agreed to by coming with him on this trip. Just how much of her soul—and body—she felt she was selling.

      She hadn’t realised it would be like this. Feel like this.

      ‘If you object to the gowns, forget them,’ Sergei said abruptly. ‘Just wear the lavender one tonight. It matches your eyes.’

      And just like that she felt her fury trickle away, to her own shame. ‘Tonight?’

      ‘We are attending a charity gala.’ Sergei continued, his voice gentling, ‘Why don’t you get dressed?’

      ‘In what clothes? The saleswoman got rid of mine.’

      ‘Pick whatever you want—’

      ‘I don’t want any of it.’

      Sergei let out an exasperated breath. ‘Most women I know don’t object to my buying them a few clothes,’ he finally said, his voice deliberately mild, and tears stung Hannah’s eyes.

      ‘Exactly,’ she said, and, realising how limited her options were at the moment, standing as she was in the middle of the dressing room in her underwear, she turned on her heel and went back to the changing area.

      Sergei let out an СКАЧАТЬ