Destiny's Whisper (20 page)

Chloe’s eyes fluttered open, the color of midnight and glazed brightly, her look was dazed. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” Chloe’s voice quivered, her eyes clouded in confusion and then the confusion began to shift to fear. “I’m sorry–I’m so sorry–I didn’t mean to do that. Please, please, don’t be angry. I swear, Sergei, it will never happen again!”

Sergei watched the change wash over her, could feel her fear building as easily as he heard it in her voice, and berated himself for being the cause of her torment. He could feel her slipping away from him emotionally as surely as he felt her leaving his arms. “Chloe, listen to me. I’m not angry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he stated calmly, holding out his hand to her beseechingly. “Chloe, please, come back,” he asked, watching as she skated slowly backwards away from him, putting more and more ice between them. Even as he kicked himself for hurting her, he understood her need to escape.

“Chloe…” Sergei called across the expanse of ice, his deep voice echoing off the walls.

She stopped, just short of the exit and stood perfectly still, barely breathing, poised for flight.

“No one’s ever made me feel the way you do, Chloe, that’s why I pulled away. Believe it or not, you scare the shit out of me,” Sergei explained softly, his deep voice carrying in the silence of the huge room.

“I scare you?” Chloe asked in disbelief. “No one and nothing scares Sergei Rocmanov!” Chloe stated, repeating an oft-stated comment she’d heard more times than she could count.

“Just goes to show you can’t always believe everything you hear,”

“Why should I scare you?” Chloe asked timidly.

Sergei looked at the trembling waif across the ice from him, so small and yet made of steel, and shook his head in confusion. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before; you threaten my self control and that’s not a feeling I particularly enjoy,” he attempted to explain.

“You mean you didn’t mind kissing me?” her question, barely whispered, reached his ears clearly.

“Come back here and I’ll show you how much I didn’t mind kissing you,” Sergei offered temptingly, his voice a low, deep rumble, all male and filled with sensual promise.

A small, shy smile turned the corners of her mouth upward. “Maybe another time,” Chloe offered quietly, casting one last lingering look over her shoulder as she turned and made her way off the ice.

“Chloe!” Sergei’s voice echoed in the silence. She returned her attention to the handsome athlete still standing on the ice and despite the distance separating them and his softly spoken words, his message reached her clearly. “There’s no
maybe
about it!”

With one last wistful look at Sergei, she turned her attention to slipping on her blade-guards, grabbed her bag and made a hasty exit through the doors.

The figure melted back into the shadows, hiding behind the tall shrubs and watched as Chloe rushed passed his hiding spot without seeing him. His eyes glittered dangerously as he watched her dash quickly through the garden path and slip from his view into the house. With a hateful curse he returned his attention back to the window, and Sergei, who now walked slowly off the ice. “You never should have touched her, Rocmanov!” He hissed viciously. Vowing revenge, the man looked cautiously about him, saw no one and quickly raced through the gardens, crushing prized flowers and shrubbery heedlessly beneath his feet until he reached the high back wall. There he found the knotted rope he’d left behind for his escape and pulled himself up and over the brick surface, landing heavily in the soft dirt on the other side. Quickly he untied the rope from the huge motorcycle that sat parked against the wall, stuffed it into the saddlebag and with a flick of his wrist turned the key that made the machine roar to life. With a final threatening glance at the wall, and all it held within, he sped away, birds chirping irately and scattering into the air as he raced across the manicured landscape.

Everyone, except Sergei, had been asleep for hours. The grandfather clock in the foyer sounded it’s gong twice, signifying the late hour. The deeply melodious note drew a scowl from Sergei as he checked his bedside clock; frowned at the brightly-lit numbers that matched the noisy clock downstairs and punched his pillow in an effort to get comfortable. Barely settled, he jerked in surprise when the phone on his bedside table rang, his heart racing as he grabbed for the receiver, hoping to catch it before it woke anyone else up.

“Are you fucking her yet?” a voice asked softly, his tone filled with menace, his hate so strong Sergei could feel it radiating through the phone line.

“Manning!”

“You know, there are laws about forced fucking, Rocmanov. Wouldn’t that put a kink in your family’s golden halo to have you charged with rape?” Andrew taunted.

“Stay away from her, Manning. Your days of blaming Chloe for your fuck-ups and using her as a punching bag are over. If I see you within a hundred yards of her, I’ll beat you into the ground so deeply they’ll be looking for you in China!”

“You don’t scare me, Rocmanov,”

“Well, Manning, that just goes to show what a dumb-shit you really are because you should be very afraid. You’ve taken on the wrong person this time. I hit back!” Sergei stated calmly.

“You don’t know what a mistake you’ve made stealing my partner, Rocmanov. I’ve got enough connections to keep you from ever competing again.”

“I always knew you played fairly, Manning. It must be great to have a daddy who spends so much of his time brown-nosing corporate big-wigs he doesn’t notice that his son’s beating the shit out of his skating partner and you should feel great knowing how much he supports your endeavors. But tell me, Manning, how does beating on a woman make you a better man?”

“Fuck you, Rocmanov, she deserved everything she got. If she had half an ounce of talent we’d be looking at a Gold Medal at the Olympics in two years. Instead, you’ve picked a fight with the wrong person and your life is about to become more miserable than you could ever imagine,” Manning vowed dangerously.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’d suggest you forget this phone number, because if I ever hear you on the other end of my phone again, I’ll personally find you, wrap the cord around your cowardly neck and hang you from a light post. It’s not as if society would miss your presence.” Sergei growled softly into the darkened room, his eyes glowing brilliantly, his body taut, as adrenaline rushed through his body.

“You don’t know who you’re up against, Rocmanov,” Manning stated, his voice quivering slightly, his tone not as sure.

“That’s where you’re wrong, I know exactly who I’m up against, and believe it or not, I’m actually looking forward to our little game. You’ve pushed the wrong person this time, Manning, I push back, and that’s what’s got you suddenly back-pedaling.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Andrew stated with false bravado.

“Then you’re dumber than I thought. If you had the common sense God gave a piss-ant, you’d be very afraid. Hear this, Manning, I fully intend to make you pay for everything you’ve done to Chloe and if that entails kicking your sorry ass in the process, oh well, shit happens!” Sergei stated calmly, his tone deadly yet laced with wry amusement.

“You can’t fuck with me, Rocmanov,”

“I have no intention of
fucking
with you, Manning. I simply intend to see you get what you deserve, one way or another. Pay attention, buddy, keep your back to the wall and watch out for shadows, the games are about to begin and you’re playing without a rule book.”

Manning’s attempt at a response turned into a mumbled stutter and Sergei’s low, deep chuckle ruined any effect at bravado Andrew could have mustered. A muffled “Fuck you,” ended the conversation and the rattling sound of plastic against the table top clattered loudly in Sergei’s ear before Andrew finally managed to slam the phone into its cradle.

With a heavy sigh, Sergei dropped the cordless phone to the floor, grateful the thick carpet muffled the thud, and ran his hands through his dark hair in agitation. Adrenaline still surged through his body and he wondered how long it would be before its effects subsided enough for him to fall asleep. He closed his eyes and breathed calmly in and out, tried to empty his racing mind and slow his thundering heart. It didn’t work. Forty-five minutes later he was still awake, staring at the ceiling since every time he closed his eyes visions of Chloe filled his mind and his body responded to the memory of how she had felt in his arms, how sweet her lips had tasted and melted against his own. With a mumbled curse, he kicked his blankets aside and paced across the room to lean against the wall beside his window. Brushing the sheer curtains aside, he gazed down into his mother’s gardens below, now bathed in soft moonlight. Pushing his window open, the soft sounds of night surrounded him: crickets calling their mates, an owl hooting mournfully, the gentle trickling of water as it traversed it’s path over the smooth stones of the waterfall before it splashed into the fishpond, the ferns rustling in the soft breeze. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and the breeze caressed his heated body as the moonlight bathed him in a soft glow.

Chloe quietly pushed against his partly opened door and peeked into the room. Her breath caught in her throat as she viewed Sergei bathed in the moon’s golden glow; his broad, bare, muscled chest a study of light and shadow, smooth skin and curling, dark hair. Caught between the urge to run back to her room and her curiosity at what it would feel like to touch the gorgeous form before her left her breathless, and she stood silently still, afraid to move and afraid to leave.

Sergei sensed her presence almost immediately, the gentle scent of her perfume reaching him from across the room. With a sigh he breathed deeply, a sense of calm stealing over him even as his body responded to her nearness and he thanked God for the darkness that concealed his growing arousal.

“It’s late, Chloe, you should be asleep,” he offered softly, afraid to look at her for fear he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“The phone woke me up,” she told him softly, her teeth tugging at her lower lip.

“It was a wrong number,” he answered in explanation, his sculpted, muscled shoulders lifting in a small shrug as he tried to maintain an aura of nonchalance, “it happens sometimes.”

“For a wrong number, you spoke for a long time,” she stated.

“Chloe, you really should be in bed,” he encouraged, running one hand through his hair in frustration, the full muscles of his upper arms drawing her attention as they flexed with his movement. For a moment all she could do was stare at his gorgeous shoulders and wide chest, mesmerized by the beauty of his form, and she wondered if his skin would feel like warm satin or cool marble.

“It was Andrew, wasn’t it?” she stated quietly into the darkness.

“I told you it was a wrong number,”

“Don’t lie to me, Sergei. You can do anything but lie to me. I’ve had enough lies to last a lifetime. You promised me we’d be up front with each other and so I’ll ask you one last time. It was Andrew, wasn’t it?”

Sergei watched her withdraw into herself as she read the answer in his eyes and the silence stretched out unbearably.

“What did he say?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing worth repeating,” he answered calmly.

“He’s coming after me, isn’t he?” She asked fearfully.

“Not if he’s smart and was listening to what I said.”

“He doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“Generally speaking, I’d say I have to agree with you. In this instance, however, I think I managed to get my message across,”

“There’s nothing you could say to him that would make him change his mind. When he makes a decision, it’s as if he has blinders on to everything and everyone around him. Nothing will deter him once he’s decided on something,” Chloe explained, her voice catching as she remembered one of the first times she’d questioned Andrew and the subsequent
discipline
she’d received at his hands.

“Chloe, you don’t have to worry about Manning anymore. He’ll never have the opportunity to hurt you again. I’ll see to it!” Sergei stated knowingly in a deep tone.

“You can’t be sure of that,” Chloe argued on a whisper.

“I’m very sure of it. I told him if I ever caught him within a hundred yards of you I’d take great pleasure in burying him.”

“You threatened him?”

“That was no threat, Chloe, it was a promise. I made you a promise to keep you safe and I don’t go back on my promises. Friends don’t break promises to each other.”

“We’re friends?” Chloe asked in disbelief, her question a gentle sigh.

Sergei looked at Chloe across the room, her form a mere shadow in the darkness, and shook his head in exasperation. “Chloe, you need to be in bed,” Sergei growled quietly.

Chloe left the safety of the door and slowly made her way across the room to stand in front of Sergei. Her eyes glowed brightly as she memorized every ridge of muscle, flat plane and curling pattern of hair on his torso and arms. Looking up into his dark eyes, she repeated her question. “We’re friends?”

Sergei’s heart melted at her softly spoken words, his body turned to stone at her nearness and it took every ounce of self control he possessed not to pull her into his arms and lose himself in her warmth. This woman, whose height only reached as high as his chin, wrecked havoc with his senses and he sighed deeply as he sought to still rush of emotion that washed over him. Expectantly, she awaited his answer; her tongue moistening her dry lips as the seconds dragged on in the silent room lit only by moonlight.