One Kiss in... Moscow: Kholodov's Last Mistress / The Man She Shouldn't Crave / Strangers When We Meet. Кейт Хьюит

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 irritated breath and turned back to the text he’d been composing on his BlackBerry. Only now he’d forgotten what it was about.

      Why was Hannah being so prickly? So difficult? He’d thought he’d been treating her, buying her a few nice things. Just as he’d said, most women—

      Except Hannah wasn’t like most women.

      Sergei swore under his breath. He rose from the sofa and restlessly paced the confines of the dressing room. The last few days had been good, he’d thought. Simple. He knew what to do with a woman when he was taking her to Paris, wining and dining and pleasuring her until the small hours of the night. He’d been smugly satisfied to have Hannah exactly where he wanted her, in his bed, out of his mind. He’d finally reverted to his former self, efficient and distant, with a woman adorning his arm.

      The realisation had relieved him … until now.

      Now he felt edgy again, and restless, and annoyed by it all. By Hannah. How did she do this to him? Affect him so much? He’d been closing people out for years, ever since he was a child. Even Grigori and Varya didn’t get close.

      And Alyona—

      Sergei put a halt to that thought. So he felt a bit restless. He’d get over it. And he’d keep Hannah exactly where he wanted her. Maybe, he thought grimly, she needed a little reminder of just what kind of arrangement they had.

      Several hours later Hannah stood in front of the full-length mirror in the sumptuous bedroom of their royal suite. She kept staring at her reflection because she СКАЧАТЬ