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

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СКАЧАТЬ she felt sleek and shiny, and looked it too. Her hair had been pulled up into a smooth coil at the base of her neck, and expertly applied make-up made her eyes look huge and smoky, her lips bee-stung and dusky pink. She looked sexy, which was a revelation. She’d never thought of herself as sexy before … not until Sergei had come into her life, anyway.

      She smoothed her hands down the front of the lavender gown Sergei had asked her to wear tonight. With its halter top and fluted skirt, the material lovingly moulded itself to her body. A sheer gauzy wrap and a pair of amethyst-encrusted stiletto heels completed the really rather amazing outfit.

      Slowly Hannah drew in a breath and let it out again. After her little outburst at the boutique earlier, she’d decided not to object to Sergei’s indulgences again. What was the point? This was what was on offer, and she’d known that when she’d said yes to him at the hotel. No matter now she might be feeling frustrated or, worse, hurt.

      ‘This is it,’ she told her reflection. ‘This is what you agreed to.’

      ‘Are you talking to yourself?’ Sergei strolled into the bedroom, looking devastatingly attractive in black tie. He carried a small velvet box in his hands, which he snapped open as he stood behind Hannah, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

      ‘Krasivaya,’ he murmured, and dropped a kiss onto her bare shoulder. Beautiful. ‘I have something for you,’ he added as he withdrew a stunning diamond and amethyst choker from the velvet box. ‘May I?’

      Wordlessly Hannah nodded, and Sergei slipped the choker around her neck. It was gorgeous, but the stones were cold and their edges pricked the tender skin of her throat. Hannah swallowed, and felt the jewels constricting her neck. ‘You may keep it,’ Sergei said, carelessly, and Hannah almost quipped, For services rendered?

      She held her tongue, bit her cheek. No need to spoil the moment. No point. ‘Thank you,’ she said after a moment, and she knew she didn’t sound very grateful. Sergei’s narrowed gaze met hers in the mirror.

      ‘Do you object to jewels as well as clothes?’

      She saw colour slash his cheekbones and knew he was annoyed. Maybe even hurt. No, that was just wishful thinking … wishing that Sergei’s emotions were engaged, as hers insisted on being. Hannah drew in another deep breath.

      ‘It’s a very generous gift,’ she finally said, and Sergei let out a short laugh.

      ‘Very diplomatic, Hannah. You always were candid.’

      He held her gaze in the mirror, his eyes like ice, and Hannah could not look away. Even though he didn’t move, she felt as if he were stepping away from her yet again, for his emotional withdrawal was so evident. She touched the choker, the jewels still cold and sharp under her fingers. ‘Thank you,’ she said again and with a little sigh Sergei nodded and turned away.

      ‘We need to leave in ten minutes,’ he said over his shoulder and then he was gone.

      Hannah gazed at her reflection once more. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and dazed. She didn’t look quite so sexy any more. She looked … sad.

      Impatiently she turned away from the mirror. Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it. You knew what you were getting into. If you don’t like it, you can leave.

      She stilled, the possibility rippling through her. Leave. She could rip off this constraining choker, this elegant gown, and be out of here in minutes. She’d never see Sergei again.

      And that, Hannah acknowledged hollowly, was why she stayed.

      ‘Ready?’ Sergei called from the suite’s lounge, and reaching for her wrap—which provided no warmth—Hannah went.

      An hour later she stood next to Sergei, a flute of champagne clenched in one hand, her cheeks aching from smiling as Sergei talked business with one well-heeled guest after another. Beyond the barest flicker of a glance or nod from his companions, she was ignored. Talk about feeling like an ornament.

      As Sergei launched into another deep conversation—this time in French—Hannah decided to get some fresh air. Obviously she didn’t need to be here, except as Sergei’s accessory. She murmured her excuses—that nobody seemed to hear—and then crossed the elegant hotel ballroom, the clink of crystal and the conversation of five hundred of Paris society’s darlings a cacophony of sound all around her. A wall of French doors led onto a terrace, and Hannah slipped through them with a little sigh of relief.

      The spring air was warm and fragrant, the night quiet, the sound from inside no more than a distant murmur. Hannah moved to the railing that looked out over a private garden, now lost in shadows although she could smell roses and lilac. She breathed in deeply and let the peace of the night wash over her and steal through her soul. At least she tried to.

      How, she wondered bleakly, could she feel so sad when she was standing on the terrace of a luxurious hotel, wearing a beautiful dress, with a gorgeous man inside who undoubtedly would take her home in a few hours and make love to her for most of the night?

      She should be walking on air. Instead she felt empty.

      ‘There you are. Sergei’s latest.’

      Hannah froze, then forced herself to turn around. In the darkness she could barely make out the face of the man who stood there, lounging in the doorway. She could still feel how he was studying her, his gaze arrogant as he completed an insultingly thorough sweep of her body.

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t know you,’ she said stiffly. He came closer, and she saw the sardonic cast of his features; he was handsome, but his mouth was thin and cruel and his eyes were bloodshot.

      ‘You could get to know me,’ he offered in a soft drawl. ‘When Sergei’s done with you.’

      Hannah recoiled physically from his blatantly crude suggestion. ‘Excuse me,’ she said coldly, and made to move past him, her legs weak and watery with the shock of such an awful encounter. He grabbed her arm, and Hannah froze again, her skin crawling at the feel of his fingers on her bare flesh.

      ‘It’s happened before, you know. I don’t mind taking Sergei’s leftovers.’

      She shook his arm off, her body trembling with affront and even fear. ‘You’re disgusting.’

      He laughed, the sound one of genuine amusement. ‘So self-righteous. You are his mistress, aren’t you?’

      And this time Hannah froze both inside and out. Not just her body, but her heart. She stood there, as unable to move as if she were encased in ice.

      His mistress. That was exactly what she was. And this clearly was how she should expect to be treated.

      ‘Well?’ the man demanded, his voice turning surly and slurred. He was clearly drunk; perhaps he wouldn’t have taken such obnoxious liberties with her otherwise. Still the bleak truth of her position both in society and Sergei’s life remained, unavoidable, undeniable.

      ‘Yes,’ Hannah said stiffly, ‘that’s exactly what I am. Sergei’s mistress. Never yours.’ And with her head held high and her heart still icy, she stalked past him, only to give a little scream of fear when yet another hand clamped around her wrist and someone swung her around.

      She stared in shock at Sergei, his eyes blazing blue fire. ‘What the СКАЧАТЬ