Behind the Palace Walls (2 page)

Paige felt heat and passion so strongly that it shocked her. How could she be so responsive at a time like this?

The man growled low in his throat, squeezed her tighter to him as the kiss slid over the edge.

Paige wasn’t herself. It was the only explanation. She was no longer a dull secretary working for a man she could never have, no longer the responsible older sister who took care of everything. She was hot, sensual, and completely in charge of her destiny. She was living a life of international intrigue and danger, an exciting life filled with passion and amazing men who spoke Russian-accented English and kissed the living daylights out of her.

Voices sounded close by, bringing her back to reality. And then a wolf-whistle. Paige’s heart dived into her stomach.

“Don’t be frightened,” the stranger whispered against the column of her throat as he maneuvered her face away from the side the men were on. “They will go soon.”

She trembled in answer, though it wasn’t from fear as his mouth glided near her ear again.

“What is your name?”

It startled her, that question. He was pressed against her so intimately, his lips moving across her skin as if they’d been born to do so, the ridge of an impressive erection riding the crease in her thighs, and he didn’t even know her name. If the situation weren’t so insane, she’d have laughed.

He flexed his hips and sensation bolted through her. If he kept doing that, oh…

“Your name,” he said against her cheekbone.

“Paige,” she said in the instant before his mouth claimed hers again.

The whistles grew louder, and then a voice said something sharp and they stopped. The voice said something again, louder and sharper. She felt the stranger’s muscles tighten.

The other man spoke in Russian, a question by the way he left the statement hanging at the end. The truth hit her like a blast of icy water. He was questioning them. Paige’s breath drew in sharply.

“Moan,” the stranger said against her lips.

The word was so foreign to her, so heavy with meaning. His accent scraped over the word, made it seem both harder and sexier than anything she’d ever heard in her life.

He squeezed her thighs hard, and she realized they were in danger, that he knew it, too. Somehow, the fact he was aware of the danger made it seem bigger, more real. They were completely outnumbered. If these men realized who she was, if they decided to finish what they’d started, the stranger would be no help against so many.

Paige pulled her mouth from his, buried her face against his neck and let out the best moan she could. The sound was weak, unconvincing.

“Louder,” he said in her ear, his hips flexing once more against her center.

Sensation caught, held, spun her in its grip as he ground against her. The moan that left her lips this time was very real. His mouth sought hers again. His kiss was warm, hard and demanding. Paige threaded her fingers in the hair at his nape, toyed with the soft edge of the fur cap he wore.

With the pressure of his body centered on her most sensitive spot, he drove her toward something she’d never actually experienced with a man. They were clothed, and yet she was about to splinter apart.

She’d been so deprived and now—oh now the floodgates had been opened. They weren’t even naked, weren’t really intimate in any way, and she felt so much.

She moaned again, gasping as his hand cupped her breast through her shirt. His thumb slid over her nipple; he made a noise when he realized it was a hard little point. The sound of his voice rocked her, kicked up her senses.

Unbelievably she was almost there, almost to that peak of sensation. She felt wicked, hot and utterly desperate.

It was wrong, wrong, and yet—

The stranger tore his mouth from hers and put distance between them. He still supported her, but they were no longer so tightly pressed together. He looked completely unaffected by what had just happened while she was hot and cold and frustrated all at once.

And then she remembered. Her gaze shot over his shoulder as confusion gave way to panic. He’d decided to give her up, decided she wasn’t worth helping—

“They are gone,” he said. He eased her legs down his hips until she was standing. Released from his grip, she felt so cold all of a sudden. She wrapped her arms around her body. Her teeth started to chatter softly, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Thank you,” she said, strangely disappointed that she hadn’t tumbled over that peak after all. Her body still hummed with the aftereffects of too much adrenaline, too much thwarted pleasure.

“Ne ze chto. Now we must go.”

Paige blinked up at him, looking at him fully for the first time—and nearly sank to the cold ground in shock. He was a stunning man. Hollywood handsome in a way that screamed bad boy, playboy. Except he wasn’t a boy at all. It struck her how incongruous those terms were to describe a man like him.

She’d been so focused before, so scared, that she’d barely registered any details about him.

Now, she took them in. Every last incredible line. Beneath his cap, he had dark thick hair that was probably brown but looked black in the lights, and the kind of nose and cheekbones that artists had been sculpting out of marble for hundreds of years. His lips were full, sensual, his jaw strong. He watched her with glacial eyes that missed nothing. And he’d just told her they needed to leave. Together. Paige backed up a step, suddenly confused and wary. She’d made too many mistakes already. She’d come this far from her hotel without a plan, and nearly been assaulted. Going anywhere with this man was out of the question, no matter how much she might owe him for helping her.

“I appreciate your help, and I’d be happy to pay you, but if you think I’m going somewhere with you to finish—”

His expression grew absolutely stony. “You think too highly of yourself, Paige. And you will come with me now if you wish to avoid a repeat scenario. Those men could return to the square in five minutes, when they’ve realized you didn’t go into the subway or any of the open clubs.”

“I’ll return to my hotel. It’s just down the street—” “It’s not safe.”

“My boss is there and he can help—” “No,” he cut in. “It will be safer if you come with me now.”

The slow burn of anger began in her belly. Who was he to tell her what to do? And what did he mean it wasn’t safe? It had to be safer than going with him! “I appreciate your help, but my sister is missing and I think Chad is the only one who can help me—”

He took a step closer, every inch of him suddenly on alert. “Chad? Chad Russell is your boss?”

Paige bit her lip, uncertain whether this was a good or a bad sign. “You know Chad?”

His laugh was not precisely friendly. “Indeed, I know Chad Russell, maya krasavitsa. And I know that you had better come with me now, if you want to survive this night.”

Paige shivered. Something in his tone made her want to back away. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said.

He glared at her until she was certain he would grab her bodily and force her to go whether she wanted to or not. But then he shrugged. “It is your life. Do what you wish.”

“But why? Why isn’t it safe?” she demanded, her heart racing.

His mouth twisted disdainfully. “The streets are not safe at night, as you have so recently discovered. This is true of many big cities, I understand.”

She felt like he was mocking her, and yet there was some sense to what he said. Would she walk the streets of downtown Dallas alone at night? Definitely not.

“I can pay you to take me back to the hotel.”

His bark of laughter was not what she expected. Her face burned, as if she’d insulted him somehow and embarrassed herself in the process. God, what a strange night!

“Come with me, or go your own way. The choice is yours.” He didn’t wait for her to reply. He simply turned and started down the hill in the direction the men had gone. Paige chewed her lip, shivering and wondering what in the hell she should do now.

Maybe she could make it back alone, assuming she didn’t get lost again. Her hotel was through the square and down the road that ran along the Moscow River. It was a long walk. Cold. Dark.

She would run. She could make it in ten minutes if she hurried. Maybe Emma had already returned. If not, Chad was there to help.

The sound of male voices, speaking in Russian, filtered to her on the night air. Their speech was loud and punctuated with laughter. She didn’t know if it was the same men who’d tried to grab her, but could she risk it?

Paige pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. Oh, God, what was she doing here? Why had she thought she could handle this alone? She didn’t speak the language, and sometimes didn’t even understand the thickly accented English that was spoken to her. Her eyes strained to see the figure of the man disappearing into the night. She understood him.

But he was a stranger. How could she go anywhere with a man she didn’t know?

The Russian voices grew louder as they moved closer to where she still stood in front of the department store. Given a choice between meeting up with these men, or going with the man who’d helped her, she realized the truth: there was no choice.

Paige broke into a run.

CHAPTER TWO

ALEXEI POURED SCOTCH into a tumbler and handed it to the woman sitting so forlornly on his couch. The walk through the cold city streets had chilled her, he was certain, but a stiff drink would bring her around. And then he would find out why she’d been in Red Square at the precise time he’d been supposed to meet with his informant. Considering she was one of Chad Russell’s employees, it was quite a coincidence.

He did not believe in coincidences. Hard work and sacrifice had gotten him where he was today, not belief in mystical concurrences. If he’d left his life up to luck and circumstance, he’d probably be lying in a crypt with the rest of his family.

She accepted the glass without looking and took a big drink. Then she coughed. “That’s horrible!”

Alexei sipped his own scotch, enjoying the notes of caramel and oak as it slid down his throat. The fifty-year-old single malt was perfect. And so was her performance. She definitely knew how to play the innocent.

His mouth twisted in disdain.

Like his father before him, Chad Russell had always believed he could ruin Voronov Exploration if he threw enough money at the right people. He hadn’t yet succeeded, nor would he.

Alexei would die before he would lose the next round in their epic battle. Whoever could convince Pyotr Valishnikov to sell his Baltic and Siberian holdings first would reap a huge reward—and effectively leave the other company in the metaphorical dust. This deal was the culmination of everything Alexei had ever worked for. With the stroke of a pen, Valishnikov could give him the power to finally crush Russell Tech once and for all.

Then Katerina would be avenged. It was all that mattered.

Alexei studied the woman on his couch.

Was she here to dig up information about his plans? If so, she would be sorely disappointed. But if she was supposed to distract him enough to let down his guard, she wasn’t doing the best job of it. She was beautiful, though in an unstudied way. He’d known many beautiful women over the years, but this one seemed quite unaware of her beauty. She hadn’t once tried to fix her hair or asked to see a mirror so she could primp and preen. Her makeup was so understated as to be practically nonexistent.

And she seemed to be in shock, which was why he’d given her the scotch.

As he watched, she reached into one of the pockets of her very unstylish coat and pulled out a pair of glasses. Then she glanced up at him and shrugged as she put them on.

“I can see pretty well without them, but I get headaches if I go too long.” She dropped her gaze to the glass in her hand. “They fogged up when I went outside and I just never put them back on.”

“What were you doing in Red Square alone?”

She looked up at him again, her dark eyes shiny with unshed tears. Once more, he got that little kick in the gut he’d felt earlier when he’d breathed in her scent. His sister’d had dark eyes like those. Dark, haunting eyes that he couldn’t escape, no matter how successful he became or how much he tried to put the past behind him.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said numbly.

“Alexei,” he replied. He did not doubt that she knew exactly who he was. Perhaps he should have taken her up on her offer to return her to her hotel. He hadn’t believed it was genuine at the time, nor did he now. But what would she have done if he’d said yes? That would have caused a bit of consternation, he was certain. When he’d first told her she needed to come with him, before he’d known who she was, he’d had every intention of driving her back to her hotel once he’d reached his apartment.

Afterward, it had seemed unnecessary—not to mention counterintuitive to her plan. He wondered why she’d even told him she worked for Chad Russell in the first place.

“Alexei,” she repeated.

“Da. Now tell me about your sister.”

He would play her game. For now.

Panic threaded into those smoky eyes. She took another swig of scotch, coughed. If she was acting, she was doing a fine job of it.