Prince Voronov's Virgin (20 page)

When he’d tried to hold her, she’d wanted to be in his arms—and yet she’d known she couldn’t survive it. She’d hated the way they’d ended last night. She’d hated lying on the edge of the bed, aching for him to touch her and knowing he would not once she’d rejected him. Knowing that she would fall apart if he did so. Because he didn’t love her, and she loved him desperately.

And now he was gone and she was cursing herself for spilling her love so carelessly. If she’d said nothing, they would have continued the way they had been.

But, she asked herself angrily, was that enough? Didn’t she deserve more?

She emerged into their suite to find a maid setting the table outside on the terrace with a full breakfast. She wasn’t sure she was all that hungry, but for the baby’s sake she knew she needed to eat.

“Dobroye Utro,”
she said to the woman, who curtsied and
returned the greeting before picking up her tray and hurrying away.

A cream envelope lay beside her plate. She picked it up and sliced it open with a butter knife. She already knew what it was. The only mystery was how he would phrase the need for his absence.

She stared toward the Gulf of Finland in the distance, her insides churning with a riot of love, pain and fury. The morning sunshine sparkled on the water like millions of winking diamonds. Would one night turn into two? Would it become a week, and then a month, and then two months before she saw him again? Had she chased him away with her naive declaration?

Because how could a man like Alexei love her? He was handsome, successful and utterly ruthless with his enemies. He’d married her out of a sense of duty, nothing more. No matter what he said to the contrary, he belonged with a woman like the Countess Kozlova—someone elegant and accustomed to his world.

No.
That was ridiculous. She was being emotional and stupid and, worse, indulging in self-pity. Paige crumpled the envelope in her fist before she set it on the table and smoothed it flat again.

There was a fluttering in her stomach, so soft and light that she ignored it at first. And then it happened again. It felt like a tiny bird, like a butterfly. She realized with a sense of wonder that it was her baby moving.

Her resolve hardened. No more self-pity. No more waiting on the sidelines for Alexei to figure out how he felt.

Because she was worthy of love, and she was worthy of this man. And she was not about to let him evade her this time.

I
T HADN’T BEEN
easy to get to Moscow, but Paige had refused to take no for an answer. First, she’d ordered a car to go shopping—without Mariya there, she’d managed to get away without a security detail. Then she’d made the driver take her to the airport where she’d found an English-speaking ticket agent—in truth, they all seemed to speak English—and bought a ticket to Moscow on the earliest flight she could get.

She had a bit of difficulty finding a driver to take her to Voronov Exploration’s headquarters, but she finally managed that as well. Now, she sat in the limo speeding into Moscow and wondered if she’d gone too far.

Alexei would be furious. Her heart had been racing since she’d begun the journey, and now her stomach was upset as well. A sharp pang sliced beneath her kidney, nearly doubling her over. She should have eaten something more than a boiled egg and a glass of milk.

When the driver pulled in front of the soaring glass and steel building in the Presnensky district, Paige counted out the rubles from her purse and stepped onto the sidewalk. The noise of the city was somewhat jarring after she’d spent so many quiet weeks in the country. Cars shot by, the older ones belching fumes, and men and women hurried up and down the sidewalks, talking on cell phones, gesturing wildly as they
strode along. She remembered that life, though it seemed like a distant memory now. Once, she’d been the one in a suit and tennis shoes, rushing down the sidewalk with a tray of coffee she’d picked up at the nearest Starbucks.

She didn’t miss the economic uncertainty of that life, but she did miss Mavis and the other friends she’d made at work. Even Mr. Ramirez, who she’d barely known. He’d been so kind to her when she was new and ill, before she found out she was pregnant. He’d paid her the hours, as he’d said he would, but when she cashed the check, she sent that portion back since she hadn’t earned it.

She missed that life in some ways, the one where she mattered to people and where they valued her. She wanted Alexei to value her. But if he did not, if he would not, she was better off in Dallas, sitting in her cubicle and struggling to make ends meet. At least her life would be her own. Though it pained her to think it, she knew she had the strength. She loved Alexei, but if he did not—or would not—love her, then she would insist on making her own choices instead of meekly waiting in St. Petersburg for him to return.

Paige went into the sleek lobby and marched up to the front desk. A woman with a headset looked up, smiled briefly and then continued talking on the phone. When she finally finished, she asked what she could do to help.

“I’m here to see Prince Voronov,” Paige said.

Even the woman’s frown was friendly. “I am afraid that is not possible, madam. His schedule is booked solid today. If you would care to make an appointment?”

“No, I would not. I am his wife, and I want to see him now, please.” She tried so hard to be cool and collected, but her stomach was burning and she realized now how ridiculous it seemed for a woman to march into the lobby and claim to be Alexei’s wife. If she truly were his wife, wouldn’t she know
where to go and how to find him? Wouldn’t she at least have his cell phone number?

The woman smiled the bland, noncommittal smile of an efficient receptionist. “Please wait over there,” she said, gesturing to a row of low bench seats along one glass wall.

Paige started to argue, but what good would it do? Instead she marched over and sank onto the white leather bench as gracefully as she could manage. She was beginning to wish she’d stayed in St. Petersburg. At least she could lie in bed and wait for this queasiness to go away.

She didn’t know how long she waited, but she knew before he arrived that he’d come for her. There was an electric disturbance in the air, the crackle and snap of fury that preceded him like a wave.

And then he was in the lobby, striding toward her, his face dark and hard.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped, the words cracking through the air like a whip.

“Maybe I am,” she said. She wanted to get up and jab her finger into his chest, to demand to know why he’d left, but she didn’t have the energy.

She’d come here to be strong, to demand he not withdraw from the life they’d been building. She’d come here to assert herself and fight for her husband.

But now she was tired and aching and she just wanted to lie down and sleep. Perhaps she’d picked up a summer cold, or eaten something bad.

He reached for her. “Come, I’m sending you to my apartment. When I’m finished here, I’ll join you.”

“Fine,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed him. He would board a plane to St. Petersburg and leave her here, she was certain. Anything to get away from her.

Even with his hand on her elbow, it was a struggle to stand. It took her a moment to realize that she was wet, that she must
have sat in someone’s spilled drink. Why hadn’t she noticed when she first sat down?

“Alexei,” she started to say.

But the color drained from his face until he was as white as the bench seat. “My God, Paige,” he croaked.

She followed his gaze downward as warmth spread along her legs. It took her a moment to understand the meaning of the small drops of red on the floor between her feet. When she did, a cracked scream wrenched from her suddenly dry throat.

It was all his fault. He’d been a fool, an ass, an arrogant unfeeling brute. Alexei shoved trembling fingers through his hair. Why had he left her like that? Why hadn’t he realized it was the wrong thing to do? Why hadn’t he brought her with him? He’d intended to go back tonight, but if he were honest with himself, he knew he’d have found a reason not to.

Why?

Because he was a coward. Because he didn’t want to face his feelings and fears. He was very good at running from emotions he didn’t want to feel. He’d been doing it for years, subsisting on hate and ambition, and it had finally taken its toll.

Not only on him, but also on Paige and their child.

In that moment when he’d seen the blood on the seat and floor, he’d believed his world had come crashing down around him. He’d thought he was losing her, and he’d offered up everything he had—every ruble, every ounce of success,
everything
—if only God would listen to his plea and spare her life.

Someone had listened, because she was fine. She and the baby both. Relief had made him so weak he couldn’t stand when the doctor gave him the news. The bleeding was stabilized, and there had been no contractions, which was a good
sign. The doctor said she could go home, but she was on strict bed rest for the next month.

A nurse came and told him he could go into Paige’s room now. Alexei pushed open the door to find Paige sitting on the bed, dressed in the clothes he’d had sent over for her, her hands clenched in her lap.

His throat closed up. “You look pale,
lyubimaya moya.”

“I’m sorry, Alexei,” she said, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “I put our baby in danger and I can never forgive myself—”

Her voice broke and he went and wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head against his chest. His heart raced as he stroked the glorious, fragrant silk of her hair. “Do not cry, Paige. It’s bad for the baby.”

She made a strangled sound against him. He felt the reverberations through his body and knew that, once more, he’d said the wrong thing.

“It’s bad for you, too,” he amended. “Please don’t do anything that’s bad for you.”

She clutched his shirt as she took deep, steadying breaths. “No, of course. You’re right. I have to be careful, for both of us.”

“For all of us.”

They stayed like that for a long time, with him stroking her hair, and her holding tight to him.

“I didn’t want you to stay away,” she said softly. “That’s why I followed you to Moscow. I don’t want to do this alone, Alexei. I want what we’ve had for the past few weeks.”

He couldn’t speak, could only hold her close and comfort himself with the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, breathing.

She pushed away from him. He let her go, uncertain of what she wanted from him and unwilling to upset her again.
She looked so beautiful sitting there, so pale and fragile, that he wanted to pull her into his arms again and never let go.

“No, that’s not true,” she said, shaking her head, and his heart dropped. She’d decided that she didn’t love him, that she didn’t need or want him after all. It was his punishment for what he’d put her through, for his stubbornness and inability to see the truth.

“Tell me what you want and it is yours,” he said. Even if she wanted to leave him, he would do his utmost to allow her to go. Whatever it took to make her happy.

Her expression grew suddenly fierce. “I want
more,
Alexei. I want you to feel what I feel. I don’t want to live with a man who doesn’t love me. I’ve spent my adult life pleasing others, and I’m ready for someone to please
me.
It’s my turn to have it all. And if you can’t give that to me, then I want to know it. Because, though I love you, I won’t stay in your palace and your bed and hope that one day you’ll love me, too.”

She was so fierce, his wife. So amazing and fierce and wonderful. And he would do anything to make her happy.
Anything.

The feeling sweeping through him was so strong that his vision narrowed, as if he would collapse if he didn’t give it voice. “I love you,” he said. But the words sounded choked, rusted through. “I love you,” he said again, stronger this time.

She looked hopeful. And then, just as quickly, hope faded. “You’re just saying it because you know I want to hear it.”

He couldn’t blame her for thinking such a thing. She knew him to be ruthless and determined, willing to use her for information, willing to do whatever it took to win. Why wouldn’t he say the words he knew she wanted to hear if it benefited him to do so?

He had to make her believe, had to prove to her how hard this was for him and how utterly certain he was that it was
right. Alexei dropped to his knees in front of her. Her eyes widened as he clasped her hands in his. Then he bent until his forehead touched her knees.

“I’m no good at this,” he said, his heart feeling like a dead weight in his chest. “I don’t know how to tell you that you are the most important thing to me, that I was dead inside until you crashed into my life. I don’t know how to say the right words, Paige.
Ti nuzhna mne, ya tebya lyublyu.
That is all I have, all I know.”

“What did you say to me?” she asked, her voice soft and thready.

He looked up, his gaze clashing with hers. “I said that I need you, that I love you.”

“I want to believe you, but so much has happened, Alexei.” Her smoky eyes were sad, haunted.

“For you,” he vowed, “I will go to see Chad and Elena.”

She withdrew her hand from his grip, smoothed it along his jaw. “Oh, Alexei.” Her eyes filled with new tears. It gave him hope like he’d never had before. “I want you to see them because
you
want to, because
you
believe it will enrich your life to do so, but not because it’s something you think I expect of you.”

He understood what she was saying, and yet he knew that it was right. That he wanted to do this for himself as much as for her and their child.

“I’ve had time to consider many things these past few hours,” he told her. “When I thought I might lose you, I realized how closed off I have become, how alone. I thought you and the baby would be enough for me—and you are—but I also realized that you are right. I have hated the Russells for fifteen years, and I believed they hated me. Perhaps they still do. But I’m tired of hating. I have no more use for it.”