Behind the Palace Walls (12 page)

The man who’d greeted them earlier stood by the ornately carved door. He and Alexei spoke briefly, and then he was opening the door as Alexei turned and took her by the elbow.

“Watch your step,” Alexei said as they emerged into the frigid night air.

“Spokojnoj Nochi,” the man called out before shutting the huge door behind them.

The whop-whop-whop of the helicopter rotors sounded nearby, as well as a scratching sound that she realized was the top layer of snow being disturbed in the vortex.

When they were safely onboard, the craft lifted into the air and banked to the right. Paige stared down at the ghostly shadow of the Voronov Palace, huge and hulking on the pristine snow. She half expected the ground to open up and swallow it whole, like a sacred location that disappeared after you’d completed a quest.

Twenty minutes later, they were boarding Alexei’s private jet. Alexei hadn’t spoken a word to her since he’d told her to watch her step. Instead he’d been on the phone, on his computer, his concentration intense and undivided. A flight attendant came over and asked if she would like something to drink.

“No, thank you,” she replied. After the woman left, Paige tried to close her eyes and rest. It was nearly eleven-thirty, and though she had no idea what Chad’s plans were for tomorrow, she had to get up and be ready in case he needed her to do something.

Hot guilt sizzled through her like a brand. She’d been reckless, and now she was regretting the impulse. The man she’d risked her job for had been ignoring her almost since the moment he’d found his release in her body.

It stung her pride, and yet she’d gone into it with eyes wide-open. She had no one to blame but herself.

She was aware of the moment he snapped his computer closed. Aware of the dark, powerful energy radiating from him as his voice went silent. Presumably he was finished with his call.

He said something that sounded like an order. When the flight attendant answered, Paige knew she’d guessed right.

A minute later something popped. It almost sounded like a gun. Paige sat up ramrod straight, her eyes darting to Alexei. He held a glass of champagne, his smile devilish as he lifted it in her direction.

“Madam,” a soft voice said, and Paige realized the flight attendant was holding out a glass for her. She took it before looking to Alexei again.

His face had been transformed once more, and her heart thumped against her chest. He was so handsome, so sexy. And so lonely, she thought.

No. She would not feel empathy for him, not now.

“What are we drinking to?” she said as coolly as she could manage. Two could play this game.

“Triumph,” he replied before taking a long swallow.

Paige’s blood froze in her veins. She set the glass down. “What are you saying?”

But she knew. Oh, God, she knew.

“Chad Russell is broke, is he not? This was his last chance to salvage his company.” He took another sip of champagne while her heart refused to beat. “His financiers have pulled out of the deal.”

Chad would be destroyed. And Emma’s happiness along with him. Paige was halfway out of her seat—to do what she didn’t know—before Alexei’s cruel laugh stopped her.

“Ah yes, you did know something, though you claimed you did not. I can see it written on your face.”

Hatred broke the ice in her veins, pumped hot blood into her heart. She’d known the deal was life or death to Chad, but she hadn’t known the extent of it. “Then I guess we both lied. This was all a game, wasn’t it? You only pretended to want me.”

He stretched like a cat before rising from his seat and coming over to plop down into the plush club chair next to hers. “Ah, no,” he said, his gray gaze slipping over her, “I did not pretend. I think that should be clear based on what we shared tonight.”

Outrage and self-loathing were a vile stew inside her. How had she fallen for this? How? “You brought me here to seduce me. You arranged the nice dinner, the troika—”

She broke off, unable to continue. She’d let herself go, let herself enjoy and believe—for a short time—that a prince could be interested in a dull secretary.

What a joke.

“Da, I arranged it all,” he said matter-of-factly. “But that does not mean I didn’t enjoy it.”

She turned away from him. Evil man. Worst of all, she’d actually felt something with him. The wonder and beauty of what he’d done to her, the intensity of her response—it was more than she’d ever experienced before.

And now the memory was ruined.

“Come, Paige, do not act so hurt. This was war. You and I both knew it.”

She collected her emotions, turned back to him. “Don’t drag me down to your level. I’m nothing like you. I don’t use people.”

“Are you not? I seem to remember that you were the one who wanted me to make love to you last night in my apartment.” He tipped a finger under her chin when she would have turned away again, held her steady while his hot eyes bored into her. “You wanted to use me to forget what Chad had done to you.”

Her conscience burned with the truth of what he was saying. And yet it wasn’t the same at all. “I told you that Chad and I weren’t involved. He didn’t do anything to me.”

“But you wanted him to,” Alexei said. “You wanted him to be the man who made love to you.”

“No,” she breathed—and yet he’d stated the truth. She’d thought she’d wanted her boss as her lover, thought he was the perfect man. But she knew, after tonight, that she couldn’t have done with Chad what she’d done with Alexei.

“Deny it all you like,” he said. “But we both know the truth.”

“Why do you hate him so much?” she asked.

A shadow crossed his features. “Who said anything about hate? This is business.”

Paige shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. I saw the way you looked at him today.”

“Perhaps you should ask him,” Alexei said, his jaw tightening. She got the impression he’d said more than he intended with that short sentence.

“I can’t do that and you know it.”

He set the empty champagne glass down on the table in front of them and stood. “You can do anything you wish, maya krasavitsa. As of tomorrow, you will no longer be working for Chad Russell.”

“I won’t work for you, either,” she blurted.

He scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, Paige. You need the money.”

Though fear made her pulse throb in her temples, she knew she couldn’t work for Alexei Voronov. It was the one thing she could do for herself, the one way to reclaim her self-respect. After a night of self-indulgent folly, she could stand firm on this one thing.

“I’d rather clean toilets for a living before working for a man I hate.”

He bent over her chair, cupping his hands on either side of her face before she could stop him. His mouth claimed hers in a hard, dominant kiss. Fury whipped through her with tornado strength and she clamped her lips tight against his. He answered her by gripping her jaw hard enough to force her mouth open.

And then he was inside, kissing her with the heat and strength of earlier. When she bit down on his tongue, he laughed and clamped his fingers around her jaw again until she released him.

The kiss turned explosive, with him bending her back in the seat and her taking as much as he could give. Never again would she be meek or easily manipulated.

This was an angry kiss, a kiss of war, but a hot kiss nonetheless. When he broke away, she whimpered in response before she could stop herself.

But she wasn’t the only one affected. His eyes were wild as he gazed down at her, hot and dark and full of need. He thrust a hand through his dark hair, pulled in a deep breath.

And then he was collected once more, staring down at her with such coolness that she shivered. “Oh, yes, Paige Barnes,” he threw at her, “you definitely hate me. If we had more time, I would show you exactly how much.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

One month later…

PAIGE HIT THE alarm, flopping back into bed with a groggy sigh. Six o’clock seemed to come earlier and earlier each morning. For the past two weeks, she’d had such trouble waking up. It wasn’t jet lag; they’d returned to Dallas a month ago, and she’d been over the jet lag within a few days.

But she’d gotten more and more tired with each passing day, as if she needed a shot of caffeine straight to her veins to get her moving. She drank coffee every morning, but by noon she was dragging again. By the time she got home, she was ready for bed.

Nothing had been right since she’d left Russia. She’d started a new job at a downtown law firm just last week, thanks to Mavis, who’d recently taken a job there because she’d also refused to work for Alexei after spending so many years with Chad and his father. The pay, at least for Paige, wasn’t as good as it had been at Russell Tech, but she’d gone over her budget and figured out how to pay all her bills and stay in the same house she’d been renting for the past three years.

It was tight, but it worked.

Somehow, Paige managed to haul herself from the bed and throw on her robe. Before she could hit the shower, she needed a cup of coffee.

“You look like hell,” Emma said when she entered the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Paige replied as she grabbed a mug and filled it.

She didn’t bother to tell Emma that she looked like hell, too. For a different reason, of course. Since they’d returned to Texas, she’d barely seen Chad. He was off in Alaska, trying to drum up business with some of his father’s old acquaintances. He’d poured his personal fortune into Russell Tech over the last few years. When the company went broke, he had, too.

There was no question of a wedding anytime soon. Paige secretly added if ever, though it hurt her to do so. Emma tried to be brave, but Paige heard her crying at night sometimes. She hated Alexei Voronov for many things, but for that most of all.

Paige took a sip of coffee, waiting for the pleasurable little jolt. But the flavor turned her stomach instead. She set the cup back down, frowning. “What are you doing up so early?”

Emma’s brows drew together as she studied Paige. “I have final exams today. Are you sick?”

Paige put her hands to either side of her head. She’d asked herself that question every day. “I don’t know.”

“You look pale. Maybe you should stay home.”

“I can’t. I’m too new and I don’t have any sick leave yet.”

“But you’re not well. I’m sure they’ll work something out. If you want, I’ll call Mavis for you.”

Paige waved a hand. “No, don’t do that. I’ll be fine as soon as I shower.”

But when she stood beneath the hot spray, she didn’t feel better at all; she felt ill. Her stomach heaved, and before she could get to the toilet, she was sick. Since there was nothing in her stomach, it was over quickly.

Maybe Emma was right. Maybe she’d caught something at work, though no one seemed to be sick at Fennell, Brown, and Ramirez.

Paige finished her shower, dragged on a pair of dark slacks and a powder-blue top and headed for work without attempting to eat breakfast since food was impossible.

The morning passed torturously. Paige tried to eat one of the doughnuts Mavis had brought in, but the first bite shot bile up into her throat. She ran to the toilet three times and threw up twice, though she’d eaten nothing at all.

The third time she returned to her desk, Mavis was frowning at her.

“You look like death warmed over, sugar,” the older woman said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Paige settled into her chair very carefully. The document she’d been working on was still open on her computer, the cursor blinking at her accusingly.

“I think I must have eaten something bad,” she said, taking a sip of her bottled water.

Mavis shoved a pencil in her steel-gray hair. Mavis’s hair was a good five inches tall, having been teased and sprayed to within an inch of its life. Paige had often wondered if Mavis got home at the end of the day and discovered bits of flotsam she’d shoved in there during work. Stray pencils, an eraser, correction tape.

Mavis’s face scrunched in concentration. “Could be, but seems like you’d be a lot sicker a whole lot quicker, if you know what I mean.” She tilted her head to the side. “This has been going on for a while. Can you keep anything down?”

“Not this morning.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“I’ve been tired a lot, but I think it must be leftover jet lag or something. I can hardly get out of bed in the morning.”

The corners of Mavis’s eyes crinkled as she screwed her face up even tighter. “Now, darlin’, you don’t have a boyfriend or anything do you?”

Paige shook her head. “You know I don’t.”

“I thought so, sweetie, but things could have changed.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you did, I’d be wanting to know when you’d last had your period. Because if it’d been a while, you might want to pee on a stick.”

“Pee on a stick?” Oh, dear God.

Mavis mistook her statement for an actual question. “Honey, I’m talking about a pregnancy test,” she said in her syrupy accent, drawing the word test into two syllables. “But since it can’t be that, maybe you should go to the doctor and see if you got that swine flu or something. Though you sure do remind me of my daughter when she was pregnant with the twins. Poor girl couldn’t keep a thing down for weeks. Slept all the time, too.”