‘Natalya.’ It was easy to smile as she offered the correction.
‘Of Russian origin?’
‘It was my great-grandmother’s name.’
‘How interesting.’
Her great-grandmother’s history was interesting...the story of a family who escaped a life of poverty to settle on a distant relative’s farm in northern Europe. As a young girl of eighteen, she’d entered into an arranged marriage and bore four children...the youngest of which being Natalya’s grandmother, who’d fled to America as a teenager, found work and lodging in a Californian vineyard, borrowed a sewing machine and made children’s clothes long hours into the night. Embroidery was her specialty, and at first her exquisitely embroidered gowns sold by word of mouth, until she was encouraged to sell direct to a childrenswear shop in a nearby town. In storybook style, her grandmother had married the vintner’s son, bore two children, a girl and a boy. Sadly her husband and young son were killed in an accident together with her husband’s parents. Stricken with grief, Natalya’s grandmother attempted to run the vineyard, only to sell it within two years, and start a new life with her daughter Ivana in Australia, settling in Sydney, where she set up shop, employed minimum staff, and gradually expanded over time to export her childrenswear overseas.
Natalya’s cherished Babushka...so morally and emotionally strong. A woman who had worked every day of her life and for whom family was everything, and who left behind so many memories of love, wisdom and laughter.
‘More champagne?’
The sound of Alexei’s voice intruded, and the ballroom with its numerous guests returned in sharp focus as Natalya offered a polite smile together with a quietly voiced refusal.
Background music faded, and there was the introductory speech of welcome, followed by the purpose of the charity in question, funds raised, together with a plea for guests to be generous with their donations.
In terms of success, the event topped the scale, given the plaudits offered throughout the evening. Guests appeared at their sparkling best, the food superb and the champagne flowed.
Polite small-talk appeared to be the order of the evening...the best party a few of the society doyennes had attended, who were present, snippets of gossip, and descriptions of apparel...designer of course, and who wore it best.
Different country, another major city...familiar scenario, merely on a larger scale.
Natalya briefly compared the evening with some she had attended with her father; the increasing tension as his alcohol intake rose, and her attempt to minimise the fallout. The relief when the evening came to a close and they could leave.
Now there was tension of a different kind, arising from her emotional reaction to Alexei’s presence. Sexual sensuality...a heightened awareness that threatened her sanity. The question being...what was she going to do about it?
* * *
‘We’ll be dining at my mother’s home this evening.’
Alexei’s seemingly normal statement following breakfast the next morning caused Natalya’s breath to momentarily catch in her throat.
We?
Her fingers momentarily paused from keying words into her laptop.
Surely she’d misheard?
‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy spending time with her,’ she offered with genuine sincerety as she set her fingers tapping on the keys.
There was a need to transcribe recorded notes from the previous day’s meeting, prior to lunch and a mid-afternoon consult...when casual attire would be exchanged for suit, heels to present a more professional image.
Vastly different from his current casual attire of black fitted jeans and black tee shirt which emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, powerful flex of toned forearm musculature...the taut stomach, narrow waist and six-pack abs. The fact he worked out was evident in every move he made.
It made her want to explore. To track every muscle, the hard flex and tone with her hands. Purr with pleasure at the thought of dragging the tee shirt from his body, to tease and caress his bare skin...with the familiar touch of a lover.
Exult in his response, the faint catch in his breath when she unbuckled the belt at his waist, slid the studded button free, then slowly freed the zip of his jeans in a slow sensuous play that could only have one end...almost crying out as he mimicked each movement she made, slowly, with exquisite care. The almost reverent touch as he cupped each breast, lowered his head to taste one nipple, and drove her wild as he used his mouth to draw it deep and suckle, before slowly withdrawing to shift focus to its twin.
The way she trailed a hand over his stomach to trace the extended length of him, feel, rather than sense his indrawn breath, the shift in his body as he lifted his head and claimed her mouth in erotic possession...until extended foreplay wasn’t enough. Nor the whispered words inciting the sensual promise of sexual pleasure.
Stop right there, a silent voice echoed in Natalya’s mind. Mentally reliving an erotic memory of what they’d once shared served no purpose.
Almost as if Alexei knew, his dark eyes lifted and held her own for what seemed to be a long minute, when it could only have been a few seconds.
She couldn’t move, nor did she have the power to utter a word.
A lost moment in time, brief...but it took an age before she managed to gather herself together and gain a sense of focus on the prosaic...laptop, transcribing notes.
Yet her mind lingered... Five years on there was a maturity evident, an innate knowledge of the man he had become. A certain ruthlessness apparent that almost alluded to an element of danger should anyone be sufficiently foolish to attempt to thwart him...on any level.
He possessed charm, respect, loyalty, and employed each characteristic facet with ease. Yet he possessed the ability to freeze an opponent with a mere glance; the power to walk away from a prospective deal without so much as a second’s hesitation.
Was that how he treated his women?
Don’t go there.
‘The invitation includes you.’
Natalya’s fingers inadvertently touched a wrong key, and a silent epithet echoed inside her head as she turned towards him.
Professional, she could manage. Sharing dinner with Alexei’s mother was in a different category entirely.
‘Will I be required to take notes this evening?’ The query held polite civility, and one as his PA she was entitled to ask.
Alexei’s expression remained unchanged. ‘Possibly, given my two brothers and I form part of a European-based business partnership. Although primarily the evening will be a family gathering.’
Her stomach executed a slow roll of discomfort. She didn’t do family...specifically not an ex-lover’s family.
A slightly hysterical laugh rose and died in her throat. Like she’d had more than one lover?
A couple of close encounters that hadn’t ended
