The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) (9 page)

His large hands cupped her rear and he brought her into delicious contact with his erection. The pointed tips of her breasts jutted into his chest. He lowered his head and took her lips in a deep kiss, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips against her belly. He had to hold her up now because her legs crumpled like wet cardboard as he continued the assault on her lips.

Abruptly, the water turned icy, and Sabrina jerked back in shock. Vlad caught her in his arms with a chuckle.

“Come, little one,” he said, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her back to the bedroom. “The shower will be for another time.”

He stood her up on the rug in front of the blazing hearth. He used the towel and roughly dried them both off, his hands lingering as they swept over her legs.

He had brought up a plate of cheese and crackers that sat near the bed.

Sabrina looked over at the snack and said, “I could’ve made pasta.”

“Takes too long.” His eyes were intent on her body, and she felt her cheeks flame.

He tossed the towel down and smiled.

“What?” Her voice was a breathy squeak.

It wasn’t easy to sound serious when you were stark naked. Her breasts blossomed ever fuller under his scrutiny.

“Don’t know how I missed this before,” he said, bending to stroke a finger over the place on her right ankle where a tiny tattoo of the sun sat blazing yellow.

“Oh, God, yeah, stupid rebellious teen. So cliché.” Sabrina’s felt a flush creep up her entire body.

He kept a grip on her ankle and Sabrina was seriously uncomfortable and yet curiously turned on to have him crouched below her naked body looking up at her.

“I have one, too,” he revealed, looking into her eyes.

“Oh? Where?”

Sabrina so overwhelmed by the size of him, the sex with him, somehow she had missed his tattoo.

“You can tell me when you find it.”

“So let me go so I can look,” she demanded, wriggling her foot. His large hand completely enclosed her ankle, and Vlad shook his head no.

Then he proceeded to use both hands to stroke her legs upward from her ankles to her calves to her thighs to the indentation of her rear. He knelt there and the warmth of his hands as they slid ever upward caused her legs to begin quaking with sexual anticipation. In seconds, she lost her balance and collapsed in a heap in front of him on the rug.

He nodded. “Now the playing field is equal.”

His voice was a low rumble. He continued to stroke her from behind, sweeping his hands over the smooth velvet of her back and down again to the crease of her buttocks. When she would have turned, he held her before him and shortly replaced his hands with his mouth; trailing his lips over every inch of her shoulders, then down her spine. Smoothing her bottom with a light touch, he continued caressing—there was no other word for it—her thighs, her legs and her feet. He laved the tiny tattoo with his tongue and Sabrina felt herself wishing she were as inked as a circus attraction if it meant he would use his tongue like that all over her.

“Da,
moyo solnyshko
, da.” He reared up, covered her breasts with his hands and started to pump with smooth strokes, picking up speed until she closed her eyes and let go as he sent them both into a sun-splitting orgasm.

Chapter 7

No Place Like Home

Sabrina awakened to the sound of outdoor activity, geese, sandpipers, ducks, and all manner of birds she couldn’t name. They’d taken refuge from the storm and now they called out to each other, excited to emerge from their shelters. The rain had finally stopped.

The small lamp on the table was lit now so the power had to be back, too. Secretly, she knew she would’ve been happy for the storm to continue. Then she could stay right here in bed, in a town she couldn’t name, eating chicken noodle soup forever with Vlad. The natural beauty of this spot, the complete absence of other people and life as she knew it in the city was a gift she wanted to savor.

She shut her eyes against the intrusive light and lifted her arms in a lazy stretch up toward the vaulted ceiling, relishing the delicious ache in her body. Technicolor scenes of the day and night before appeared before her closed eyes. Oh, yeah. She felt good, practically boneless with satiation. She sank back to snuggle into the comfy duvet and the multiple down pillows that covered what had to be seventeen inches of luxurious mattress. It was all so cozy she might just roll over and sleep a little more. God knows, they’d barely slept the night before.

But no, she should help Vlad with whatever he needed to deal with in the aftermath of the storm. Forcing herself out of bed was the toughest thing she’d done in two days. Then it was a quick shower without a partner before she pulled on her remaining clean clothing.

****

Walking barefoot into the kitchen, she didn’t notice at first that he was on the phone. She stopped short at the sound of his sleep-roughened voice. His back was to her, his cell plugged in and charging in one of the center island outlets as he spoke.

Vlad chuckled but Sabrina picked up the hard edge in it.

“Yeah, da, they found a hottie and put her right on my plate. In my bed?” another chuckle, “…let’s just say not my type at all, but I’ll do what I have to do to figure out who put her up to it.”

He was listening now and shaking his head.

“No, no. She denies it, but it’s clear she’s really hard up for money. No, I never knew how far they would go to discredit me. Is it fully out? The story?” He nodded, listening, then, “What about Europe? And Russia? That’s crucial. Keep me posted. Right, power’s back now. I know. I can’t wait to get back to civilization. Let’s fix this mess.”

He ended the call.

Sabrina’s stood there, feeling the heat of her anger and hurt bubble up like scalding lava out of a volcano even as her self-esteem steadily seeped out of her like the excess water soaking cold into the ground outside.

“You creepy bastard!” she shouted.

Vlad’s head whipped around. “No need to get personal.”

His mouth turned down at the corner at some private joke.

“You heard some of that, I guess. My lawyer. You know what they say about eavesdroppers.”

“You slimy slug!”

She advanced on him ready to pummel him and then stopped, thinking better of touching him even in the throes of the worst anger and humiliation she had ever experienced.

She couldn’t trust herself, not to cry or cling, or do something to further disgrace herself. Because the most frightening part of it was, she was still so attracted to him. Attracted? That was a pallid word. She’d barely washed the scent of him off her body, and she’d heard him say those horrible words about her. Well, that was sexual infatuation, wasn’t it? He was like an addictive drug and if she got too close, if she put herself anywhere near, she might weaken and then she’d be lost.

“Take me home,” she said.

She didn’t trust herself to say another word. There was a dangerous wobble in the back of her throat, a place where tears were gathering. But she refused to let them out. She looked down her nose at him as she issued the command as if she was royalty and he was the chauffeur.

Then she turned her back on him and ran upstairs to get her knapsack.

****

Vlad had to admit that in a way, he was glad she’d heard some of his conversation with Yuri. She was angry, and she would keep her distance and that was fine with him. He had far too much trouble keeping his hands off of her. Bringing her out to the house had been a boneheaded move, born of the desire to escape the paparazzi, buy time, and try to pry some information out of her.

Yuri Abromovsky, his personal lawyer and university classmate had advised him to get out of town and wait for the media frenzy to die down. Good advice from one of the only people who knew who he was and who he had been.

But who knew the storm would turn into a hurricane? Who knew that with the power out, they would turn to an age-old form of entertainment?

He had told Yuri the truth. She was hot, but she was not his type, and she was hurting for cash. That added up to a play, some kind of plot to discredit him.

It was an old game. And yeah, he’d seen through her, but nevertheless, it would play particularly well back in Russia. And it would hurt all of those orphaned kids who depended on him and his largesse for the programs of education, care, and adoption he had organized through his charitable foundation.

The Russian authorities were furious that he’d succeeded not only in helping the bastard and forgotten children of his birthplace but in doing it on his own terms.

He called every shot insofar as how the money was spent and how foreign adoptions were carried out. He sought to keep young mothers with their children, where feasible, and treat them for their addictions, provide birth control and education. He did this without ever stepping foot in the country of his birth and with a U.S. citizenship behind him.

The authorities, the government functionaries took the money he gave but grudgingly adhered to his rules. He knew they would do anything to show that he was morally bankrupt, politically corrupt, and was only sending the money and organizing the programs as some sort of penance for crimes against Russia.

The fabricated story that he was the father of a bastard child, a child his enemies back in Russia claim he failed to acknowledge as his own and abandoned would be the crowning glory in the campaign to discredit him. It was further icing on the cake that they claimed he neglected that child financially and in every other way, and had fathered him with a woman from the wrong side of the tracks, a woman just like them. It was a brilliantly trashy lie. The kind of lie that spread like wildfire with the media eagerly fanning the flames. How long before they discovered everything about his sordid beginnings?

How long before the many donors to his foundation decided it was too much of a challenge to put their hard-earned contributions into his charity when there were so many others equally worthy of support and so much more above reproach?

It was a perfect excuse to conduct a war of words in the worldwide court of public opinion. The ideal opportunity to reject his assistance as just dirty money that would sully the very children he sought to protect.

It was too textbook a plan not to have been engineered by the best disinformation network the world had ever known.

Admittedly, the selection of Sabrina had been a masterstroke. She exuded sex appeal in waves. And yet she exhibited just the right amount of innocent responsiveness that would be most apt to get into the psyche of the world-weary cynic he was. No doubt in other circumstances, he could have enjoyed a week’s long interlude with her.

But they were challenging the wrong man. Who knew better than he how to combat these forces? He would win and he’d take out anyone who got in the way of that goal. Even their paid bed warmer.

****

Now that the power was back, now that she’d overheard that hideous phone call, Sabrina was ready to be gone.

As she stuffed her things back into the backpack, Vlad’s chuckle kept reverberating through her head. That kind of boys-will-be-boys laugh guys always used when discussing women.
Not my type
.
Do what I have to do.
With those words, Vlad made it clear he’d used the situation, the attraction between them which she’d thought mutual and genuine, as just a way to wear down an opponent to obtain information.

Bedding the enemy? How had she made such an epic fool of herself with such a conceited jerk?

Stupid, stupid, stupid was she and shame on her. He had fired her—he was already the worst kind of arrogant SOB of a boss—but somehow that hadn’t stopped her from falling into his bed like a ripe peach. She’d practically begged him to take her. And wow, had he obliged. So she’d been to heaven and now she was back to less than zero.

He was calling around to the minders of his beautiful house making sure his staff was safe, mobile, and able to get to his property, inspect it, and see to repairing any storm damage.

Sabrina couldn’t wait to depart the scene of her humiliation. By the time he finished the last call, she had already squished her way down to the foot of the driveway and gotten into the backseat of the Navigator. She blinked back useless tears, remembering that not a day ago, he’d picked her up and carried her up the driveway and over the threshold of his home. Her fool’s heart hadn’t been able to resist the Cinderella charm of that moment, and she’d started weaving happy ever after fantasies right then. She was an ass. Oh God, would he get into the car so they could get out of here?

He tossed his bag on the front seat.

“Give me my phone. I want to call Mrs. Egan and talk to Alex.”

“You’re not getting your phone back. But I will call them now.” Vlad behaved as if he were dispensing a very special favor. She wanted to strangle him.

****

He put the speakerphone on and put the call through. He greeted her babysitter, then Sabrina had a conversation first with the older woman and then with her son.

He listened as he drove with care down the rutted lane to the main road, crushing the impulse to gun it, which would only delay them if they came upon an obstacle on the waterlogged terrain. It irritated him that the little boy called her by her given name, Rina instead of a more traditional maternal name. But it confirmed his opinion that some young women who became pregnant when they were little more than girls themselves wanted to maintain some illusion that they were not, in fact, mothers. His mother had probably been the same way. That’s probably why he knew what his mother’s name was as opposed to recalling his own.

He shoved the observation away. This entire situation was dredging up so many thoughts he hadn’t cared to dwell on in years. Now he was compelled to listen as her voice softened and she patiently answered Alex’s excited questions. That soothing tone with the underlying hint of a smile wrapped warmly inside of it. He had been on the receiving end of it yesterday. He had an inexplicable memory of her voice inside one of his dreams, soothing him that same way. Had he dreamed of her? He pushed that thought away as arrant nonsense.