The Last Dance (11 page)

Vlad did not respond. She considered speaking to him in Russian, but he would no doubt tell Roman she was fluent, and then he would never speak freely in front of her again. She didn’t care about getting information to feed to Pavel. That ship had sailed. She wanted to know what Roman said because… God, she didn’t know why.

“No wife or girlfriend,” Vlad replied.

Georgina’s head shot up. She had not expected a response from the man. “You speak English?”

Vlad nodded. The knowledge sent a surge of excitement through her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him about Roman—all the accusations, the rumors. Roman obviously trusted the man, so he had to know the truth about him. She opened her mouth to speak but snapped it shut when she remembered the bug she had planted in the car. Anything they said Pavel would hear. She shook her head. Any conversations they had would have to be superficial. The trouble was she was woefully out of practice at small talk, so they drove in silence.

“You don’t have to sit in the car and wait for me. I get complimentary tickets. You can come in and watch any performance. Maybe bring a date,” Georgina added. “And definitely give her the flowers. Most women love flowers.” She did not add that she was in the small minority of women that did not appreciate them. She didn’t need to tell him that Pavel had ruined them for her.

“Thank you. I would like that.”

Georgina had to remind herself to close her mouth. That was not the answer she was expecting. “Good. I will leave the tickets at the box office.”

Vlad stopped in front of Roman’s building. He opened the car door for her. In typical St. Petersburg fashion the stucco building was painted a bright periwinkle with crisp white trim. She was about to ask which apartment was his, but one glance at the door told her that the entire building belonged to him. It had all been converted into a single dwelling.

She shook her head. So flash. He did not need an entire building. He also did not need several billion dollars. Ridiculous.

* * * *

As if he was expecting her, Roman, answered as soon as she buzzed. He had changed since that morning. He was wearing a charcoal suit and a blue tie the exact shade of his eyes. He looked like a sexy businessman, not the criminal he was.

An older woman came up behind Roman, bundled in a padded down jacket. “See you in the morning,” she said as she pulled on black leather gloves. She smiled up at Roman, genuinely beaming.

“Good night, Bepa.”

“Is she your maid?” Georgina asked when the woman had disappeared onto the dark street. The woman must be paid to look adoringly at him.

Roman nodded.

Georgina noted the woman did not raise an eye at Roman entertaining female guests at a late hour. No doubt she had seen many women come and go. Georgina ignored the annoyance that realization brought. She didn’t care what Roman did with his life. He was nothing to her. “If Vlad is going to watch me all day, he is welcome to sit in the café while I rehearse. I have offered him tickets to the performances at night so he doesn’t have to sit in the cold. Though if we really were lovers you wouldn’t be likely to have your goon attend every night. It looks suspicious. Not exactly romantic, is it? Not much of a charade if you don’t get that part right.” She was determined to keep Roman at arm’s length. She would not forget again.

“
Goon.
I am unfamiliar with this word. I shall look it up. The world will consider him a bodyguard. Very romantic, that I enjoy your body enough to want to protect it.”

She ignored Roman and continued to walk through the spacious apartment, taking it all in. The flat was in stark contrast to his country home. Everything here was industrial and modern, very masculine, very Roman. The floors were polished concrete and the walls a stone color. Instead of paintings, the walls were bare except for a few black-and-white photographs. She took off her jacket and set it on the back of a chair.

There was very little ornamentation to speak of anywhere actually, which made the porous red lump on the shelf stand out. Georgina ran her hand over the rough surface. “Bauxite?” she asked. She had never seen it, but she was familiar with aluminum production.

Roman nodded. “From the first mine I owned. You have your tattoos to remind you. I have that.”

Georgina was taken aback by his admission. She knew how he had acquired his first mine; everyone did. People had died. No one could prove Roman had done it, but the murders stopped when he took control. Unbelievable. He thought they were the same. Yes, they both did bad things, but Georgina’s tattoos reminded her she still had boundaries, still had something left of herself. She wasn’t proud of her tattoos or what she had become.

Georgina reached into her bag. “I have another transmitter. I will need to plant this here. Also I have placed one in your car. He will hear everything you say once it is activated,” she warned. If they were doing this, they were doing it right. It was her only hope of getting out alive.

“You surprise me. I assumed you work for your government, but you don’t. You work for the Foreign Intelligence Service. What is the name of your handler?”

Georgina continued to stare straight ahead. She refused to give Roman confirmation. Soon enough he would trace Pavel, but Georgina would not give him up. She valued her life too much for that.

“How did you get involved with Russian Intelligence? A pretty dancer from Montana. How did that happen? Is your handler your lover? Is that how you got involved?”

Georgina bit into her lip to keep from speaking. Roman did not get her truths; he did not deserve them.

“He is your lover, and he allows you to be whored out. He is no man. He should be shot.” Bitterness dripped from his deep voice. His face contorted into an expression even uglier than his scars. Hatred: that was what she saw reflected in his pale eyes. Was it toward her, Pavel, or both? She could not tell and she wouldn’t ask.

And she would not be judged. Not by Roman. He could think whatever he wanted. In fact she preferred that he hate her. At least one of them should be clear in their emotions. “Yes, he is my lover. And he is fabulous, best I ever had. As soon as you left this morning he came by. That’s why Vlad had to wait so long for me. I really must apologize to him, but I needed to get a proper fuck in this morning.” She held up the bug again. “I am about to activate this, so if there is anything you want to say before then, do it now or forever hold your peace.”

Roman closed his hand over hers. “Don’t. Don’t play games. Tell me his name.”

“Not a game. A charade, remember? That’s what we’re calling it, right? Out there”—Georgina gesticulated—“we pretend. But right now we can call a spade a spade. You’re a criminal, and I am the spy charged with gathering the information to bring you down.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed into tight slits. “You want me to treat you like a spy?”

Georgina scrubbed at her face. “Yes. Yes that is exactly what I want. Don’t pretend this is anything else. Don’t be kind to me just to be cruel to me later.”

Roman stared at her. Anger radiated from him. He looked like a predator stalking his prey. In an instant his hands were on her. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her up a flight of stairs to the master bedroom. Georgina’s heart pounded violently against her ribs. No matter what happened she would not show fear or beg for mercy.

Good. He was being cruel. Yes. This was what she needed to see. This was the real Roman.

Roman put her down at the foot of the bed. She took a step back, stopping only when she hit the mattress. Her gaze darted around the large room, taking it all in. This room at least had color though not one Georgina would have picked. The wall behind the bed was bloodred. There were no paintings or decoration of any kind, just a massive black wrought-iron bed and polished walnut floors and a single cream rug.

“Hand me your bag,” Roman demanded.

When she did, he dumped the contents on the bed and rummaged through them. “You want me to treat you like the spy you are? This is it. This is what it looks like. Tell me the name of your handler and I will stop. We can be civilized again.”

Georgina shook her head.

“Fine. Take off your clothes. I shall show you how a spy would be treated.”

Georgina blinked. Why did he want her naked? Did he think she was wearing a wire? That didn’t even make sense. She had just shown him the bug she was placing in his house; there was no way she would need to wear a wire.

She was obviously moving too slowly. Roman pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor. He yanked her up and then he stripped off her trousers, leaving her standing in nothing but her socks and underwear. “Do you want to take them off or shall I?”

Georgina’s eyes narrowed in anger. Wordlessly she took off her bra and threw it at him. Roman caught it and shoved it in his trouser pocked.

“There,” she said when she stepped out of her underwear.

“Socks.” Roman pointed.

“You want my socks?”

Roman did not answer. Instead he picked her up and laid her on the bed and pulled her socks off himself. “This is how spies are treated. They are searched. There are many places to hide things on the human body.” He pulled her toes apart and ran his fingers between each one and then up the arch of her foot.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Georgina’s heart vibrated beneath her ribs. Her hands clenched into tight fists, but she complied. Roman ran the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip, his skin rough. He slid his finger in her mouth. Like everything about him it was large, oversized. Slowly he searched her mouth, his movements deliberate and intimate as he explored, almost like a kiss.

Her gaze went to his full lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to dislodge the image of Roman kissing her. But she couldn’t. Why did her body betray her? He was the enemy.

Roman withdrew his finger, gliding it up her cheek. Again his movements were painfully slow. Her skin warmed at his touch. She should not be enjoying this. He was a monster. She commanded herself to stare at his scars, but again her body betrayed her and her gaze went to his mouth.

Roman ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Georgina’s mouth was suddenly dry. She licked her lips as his hands ran over her face again, touching her everywhere, searching. Her cheeks burned. She had no idea the spot behind her ear was so sensitive until his hand brushed it as he continued examining.

“Are you ready to stop playing games? Tell me his name. Your loyalty is to me now.”

Georgina shook her head. She had no loyalty to either man.

Roman ran his hand through his cropped blond hair. “Spread your legs.”

Georgina’s pulse spiked. He was going to touch her again there. She should be disgusted. Her nipples hardened as terror and arousal mingled in her. She closed her eyes as she let her head fall to the side.

“Tell me his name, or I will search every inch of you,” Roman warned.

“Do what you have to do.” Her voice faltered.

Nothing happened. Roman did not move to touch her. Time stopped. Then his hands ran up her thighs, spreading her legs wide so she was exposed fully to him. Her body shivered. Even with her eyes closed she was acutely aware of his stare. Her body burned with mortification. It took every ounce of strength not to close her legs. She would not give him that satisfaction.

Georgina sucked in a sharp breath when Roman’s hands brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs. Over and over he stroked her hair, his touch featherlight. Her palms pressed into the mattress as his hand lowered. He traced the seam of her body, opening her. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. There was no hiding from his stare or his touch.

“So many places to hide things.” His finger lowered again. He circled over the entrance of her body, over and over, each loop increasing the exquisite pressure.

Heat flooded her. Her pussy was wet; she could feel it. Silently she prayed that he would not notice her body’s betrayal, but then he dipped his long finger into her and then another; there was no hiding her arousal. Roman’s fingers curled as he stroked her inner walls, finding the exact spot to make her moan. Her hips bucked as a wave of sensation spread over her. She bit back the moan that formed low in her belly. This should not feel so good. She should not be enjoying this. But then his thumb circled her clit as his long fingers stroked her, and there was no holding it back. Over and over he worked her body until her legs trembled. She was going to come if he did not stop. She tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle. Roman’s touch was too much, his fingers too skilled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Suddenly his hand stopped. “So many places…” His low voice trailed off.

Don’t stop, her mind begged. Georgina bit her lip to keep from saying the words aloud.

Roman’s hand lowered again, farther down her body until he reached a place no man had ever breached. Her eyes flew open, locking on his. His pale eyes were hooded with desire. His hand began to move, slowly tracing circles over the taut ring of muscle. She took in a sharp breath, his touch too intimate. No one had ever touched her there. Nerve receptors she did not know she had were awakened. The sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced, intense and erotic, forbidden. Her hips rose to meet his touch. His thumb was on her clit again, stroking her, coaxing her higher as his finger pushed into her. Her body offered no resistance. She was greedy for his touch; she would take anything he gave her.

Her breathing came in shallow pants, her chest rising and falling quickly. She was going to come like this.

His hand stilled. “Let me make you come. Tell me his name.”

Georgina’s eyes flew open. Before she could register his words, she pushed her hips up farther, desperate for his touch. She was so close. The name was on her lips; two words were all she had to say, and the sweet ache between her thighs would be eased.

Her mind screamed, telling her no. Roman knew exactly how to use her body against her. He could make her do anything, say anything.
Not this time.
Georgina took in a deep breath, pushing air down in her body until her lungs burned.