Alexei's Passionate Revenge. HELEN BIANCHIN
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Lunch should be interesting, to say the least.
She could do this, Natalya assured herself silently a few hours later as she rode the elevator with Alexei to the ground floor.
So why did she feel conscious of every breath she took, together with an incredibly heightened awareness that threatened to destroy her hard-won composure.
He radiated male sexuality, too much for any woman to ignore. Especially her, having known how it felt to be possessed by him. Sensual heaven...and then some.
Even now, when she had every reason to hate him, he still held the power to affect her emotions.
Five years...during which time she’d attempted to convince herself she was over him...disappeared like mist beneath rays of the sun.
Not good. Not good at all.
So much for self-survival skills.
And this was only day two in her contracted employ.
So...suck it up.
Which she did. Although there was a moment when Alexei indicated they share the rear seat of the chauffeur-driven limousine.
A deliberate ploy to unsettle her?
Who could tell?
She could analyse it to hell and back, and still not arrive at a definitive answer...so why even try?
The key being to adhere to the rules...a faultless PA during business hours, amenable and highly professional, even if it killed her, for no way would she allow him to glimpse so much as a chink in her emotional armour.
Consequently Natalya entered the restaurant at Alexei’s side, where the maître d’ offered a deferential greeting and led the way to their table.
Not the bar, which had been her father’s preferred starting point. Or, she perceived in retrospect, where Roman plied his guests with alcohol before adjourning to a table where he ordered fine wine with no regard to cost. By which time, business, as such, became a secondary consideration.
Elle Johanssen made her entrance a fashionable five minutes late, offered a faux smile, apologised briefly as she slid into the seat politely held for her to grace it, and took control by ordering wine.
A female shark baring her teeth, Natalya mused, all too aware of the woman’s reputation for shrewd deals tailored to her advantage.
In a contest of strong wills, Elle most often won out, her gritty formidability legend. So, too, was her intolerance for fools.
Natalya sat still, aware, alert...and prepared to watch the play between two business titans, each of whom were determined to win.
A little wine, which did nothing to soften Elle’s forceful tactics...and the wheeling and dealing began.
It was quite something to watch, as Alexei simply listened while Elle outlined her terms, declared them non-negotiable...only to stiffen defensively as Alexei discounted all but one of them, before stating his terms.
Stalemate.
‘You’re new in town,’ Elle dismissed haughtily, only for Alexei to qualify,
‘But not new to business dealings.’
‘My terms cannot be bettered.’
Alexei merely lifted an eyebrow. ‘I disagree.’
‘Really? By whom? A firm who’ll use a superior to broker the deal, then pass the client on to a less experienced staff member?’
‘No.’
Natalya saw Elle’s eyes narrow in speculation. The ADE Conglomerate was huge. To have Alexei as a client would be a very large feather in the woman’s cap.
It would be interesting to tell which card Elle would play.
‘Then there is nothing more to say.’
Alexei’s shoulders lifted in a negligible shrug. ‘So it would seem.’
The word-play game had just moved up a notch.
A waiter delivered their entrees, which were eaten in supposedly companionable silence.
Was this the final act in negotiations, and, if not, who would concede?
Natalya’s money was on Elle, given it was Alexei who held the power.
Conversation during the main course centred on world economics, a subject in which both Alexei and Elle were well-versed.
Dessert was declined, and Alexei chose not to linger over coffee, stating the meeting concluded.
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