Prince Voronov's Virgin. Lynn Raye Harris
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“Emma’s twenty-one, as of yesterday. She’s nothing like me. She’s tall and blonde, and she likes to have fun and go shopping. She went on a guided tour this afternoon while I worked to prepare Chad’s papers for his meeting tomorrow. I ate dinner in Chad’s suite while we worked, and stayed with him until about eight-thirty. I had a text from Emma around eight, telling me she would be in the hotel bar for a while. She wasn’t in our room when I got back, but I didn’t think anything of it until she didn’t return by eleven. I tried calling her, but she never answered.”
The twinge of feeling he got when he thought of this woman with Russell surprised him. Because he doubted very much that she’d simply been working with her boss all that time. A beautiful woman like her with a man like Russell? He’d lay odds they’d been doing far more than going over paperwork.
She plunked the tumbler on the table and stood. But she must have gotten up too quickly because the color drained from her face and she sank back down again. Then she put a hand to her head.
“I don’t usually drink alcohol,” she said more to herself than to him. She looked up again, her eyes slightly glazed. How could anyone get drunk on two gulps of scotch? “I have to find her,” she whispered.
“I will find her for you,” Alexei said smoothly. Let her believe her plan was working. “You looked for her in this bar?”
She clasped both hands in her lap, her knuckles whitening. “Yes. I asked if anyone had seen her, but they claimed not to remember.”
“So you decided to wander alone through Red Square at midnight?”
Her eyes were huge and liquid. “It was stupid, I know. But I thought she couldn’t have gone far, thought maybe she was outside. And then someone said there was another bar, so I went there. Each place I went was farther than the last until I found myself in the square and those men started bothering me.”
“Where is your cell phone?”
She patted her coat, came up empty. “I think I dropped it when they grabbed me.”
Alexei took his phone from his jacket and handed it to her. “Try to call your sister.”
She punched in a few numbers. He could hear the error message on the other end as she handed the phone back, her expression a mixture of frustration and fear. “I don’t know how to dial it from a foreign number.”
“Tell me the number.” He punched it in while she recited it, adding the proper codes, then handed the phone back when it began to ring. Her face screwed up while she concentrated, as if she were willing her sister—assuming there really was a sister—to answer.
It didn’t work, however, because she gave the phone back to him a moment later, her expression crumpling.
Alexei dialed another number. After issuing instructions to his head of personal security, he hung up.
“Why don’t you give me your coat? I will turn on the fire to warm you.”
“I really should be going,” she said, her pretty bow mouth drawing his attention as her teeth scraped her bottom lip worriedly.
Alexei tried very hard to ignore the arrow of arousal that shot straight to his groin. She’d been uncertain earlier, but she’d warmed up to their kiss, coming alive beneath his touch. It had been everything he could do to push her away when all he’d wanted was to sample the rest of her. To see if the fire in that kiss would translate to the bedroom.
Odd, when she wasn’t his usual type of woman. He liked glamorous women, effortlessly feminine women who wore their confidence like a second skin. Paige was neither glamorous nor confident, though she was definitely feminine. Authentic was the word that came to mind—though of course that couldn’t be the case when she was working for Chad Russell. She was simply a very good actress.
“It is safer to remain here,” he said. “In case those men are looking for you.”
She blinked. “How could that be? They don’t know me—”
“Your phone.”
Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that. I still don’t know why they’d care.” She shook her head suddenly. “But they wouldn’t. And I need to find my sister, so I should go back—”
“I will find your sister, I promise.” He said it impatiently, since she couldn’t really want to leave yet, but she didn’t seem to notice.
She blinked at him, her eyes adorably owlish behind her glasses. “Do you really think you can find her?”
He nodded. “You are in Russia, maya krasavitsa, and I am Russian. I guarantee I will find her before your Chad could do so.”
Real hope kindled in the depths of those eyes. It made him wonder, for an instant, if he was wrong about her motives for being here.
That is exactly what you are supposed to think.
He shoved the thought aside, but not before he pictured another set of eyes gazing at him with hope. Katerina, I’m sorry…
A cold hand gripped his, pulling him back to the present. He didn’t mind the cold. It was the touch of her skin that surprised him. The jolt must have surprised her as well, because she quickly pulled away.
“Thank you, Alexei,” she said in that soft, breathy voice that reminded him of film stars of the 1940s. “You have been very kind. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
If the whole scenario hadn’t been a setup, then he knew exactly what could have happened—and it wasn’t pretty.
“You must never go out alone at night in a strange city where you do not speak the language or understand the culture.” He said it rather harshly, he thought, but she merely nodded.
“You’re right, of course.” She sank back against the cushions and closed her eyes. When she didn’t open them again, he grew concerned. A moment later, her jaw dropped open and a soft snore escaped.
Alexei stood there for a moment in disbelief. Tossing back the rest of his scotch, he decided to turn the lights down and leave her where she was. If she were here to spy, she’d be up in no time. All he had to do was wait and see.
Paige was warm and cozy. Something soft nestled against her cheek as she stirred. She smiled, sighing as she burrowed deeper beneath the cover. The hotel bed was comfortable, but it felt different tonight than it had the night before. Firmer. And why was she still wearing her clothes?
A tendril of unease twisted through her. Something wasn’t right. Her eyes popped open—a second later, she bolted upright. Her gaze darted around the room, but nothing was familiar.
Where was she?
Her surroundings were luxurious—the couch she lay on was covered in silk brocade, oil paintings adorned the walls and the cover she’d been snuggling into was made out of some kind of fur.
A fire burned softly in the grate, the only sound in the room. Paige stood, wrapping the blanket around