Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence - Shaw Chantelle - Страница 29
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He’d only ever wanted a mutually enjoyable sexual liaison, and he was infuriated that she seemed to have some sort of hold over him. He had spoken the truth when he’d told her that he had missed her during the five days-and hellish nights-that she had been in Paris, preparing for the concert. But he knew from experience that, for him, prolonged intimacy bred boredom. The best way to get her out of his system was to spend all his time with her, and that was exactly what he was going to do for the next days or weeks-however long it took for him to tire of her.
‘My tablets are in my dressing room,’ she told him. ‘Do you think anyone will notice if I disappear from the party for a while?’
‘I’ve already told Marcus we’re leaving.’ Vadim smiled at her startled expression and slipped his arm around her waist to steer her over to the door. ‘I assume you’ve had enough of the party?’
‘Heavens, yes,’ she agreed fervently. ‘I’m staying at the Intercontinental again. Have you booked into a hotel?’ she queried when they reached her dressing room. She quickly took a couple of the strong painkillers that would hopefully prevent her headache from developing into a full-blown migraine.
‘No, I’m flying out on the jet tonight-and you’re coming with me.’
Ella’s heart flipped at the prospect of returning to Kingfisher House with Vadim when she had expected to spend another night at her hotel, alone.
‘I take it you have no argument with the arrangements?’ he murmured as he drew her into his arms.
‘None at all. I can’t wait to go home,’ she admitted, hectic colour staining her cheeks when she imagined him making love to her in his big bed back at the house she loved. ‘But I’ll have to stop off at the hotel to collect my things.’
‘One of my staff will do that.’ He claimed her mouth in a long, sensual kiss that stirred her desire back into urgent life, and when he finally released her she snatched up her handbag and followed him out to the corridor. She collected her violin from the security desk-after refusing point-blank Vadim’s suggestion that his PA would arrange for its safe transportation.
‘My violin stays with me at all times,’ she explained.
‘So I’ve discovered. I must admit it’s a novelty to share my bedroom with a musical instrument,’ Vadim said dryly, referring to her insistence on keeping her violin beside the bed at Kingfisher House.
They emerged from the Palais Garnier to be met by a barrage of flashing camera bulbs. Ella had known that her performance had attracted some media interest, but it soon became clear that the press were more curious about her relationship with playboy billionaire Vadim Aleksandrov. ‘Maybe I should go back inside,’ she muttered as they were jostled by the dozens of photographers who were vying to snap the best shots of the enigmatic Russian and his beautiful companion who was rapidly becoming an international star.
In reply Vadim slid his arm around her waist and shouldered his way through the crowd, seemingly unconcerned that his action had incited fevered interest among the journalists. ‘Don’t worry about them,’ he told her when they finally reached the car, where his chauffeur was holding the door open for them to scramble inside.
‘But they’ll think we’re…together,’ Ella said uncertainly, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the camera bulbs that continued to flash outside the car’s windows. ‘You know how the paparazzi exaggerate things. News that we’re having a torrid affair will probably be in all tomorrow’s tabloids.’
Vadim shrugged. ‘What does is matter what they say? It’s the truth, anyway. For now, we are together, angel face.’
He seemed perfectly at ease with the likelihood that their affair would soon be common knowledge, but in London Ella had noted that he had deliberately avoided places where they might have been spotted by the press, and had taken her to out-of-the-way restaurants where they had not attracted attention. Did the fact that he now seemed happy for them to be seen in public together mean that he wanted their relationship to develop into something deeper than a meaningless sexual liaison? she wondered, annoyed with herself for the little flutter of hope in her chest. Daydreams were for children, she reminded herself irritably. And since when had she decided that Vadim was her knight in shinning armour?
They took off from Charles de Gaulle Airport within minutes of boarding the Learjet. Ella had never been on a private plane before, and as she glanced around at the elegant cabin, with its cream leather sofas, cocktail bar and vast cinema screen, she appreciated for the first time how very different Vadim’s world was from hers. Even the two female flight attendants looked like top models, she noted wryly, and a poisonous little voice in her head wondered if they provided in-flight entertainment when he travelled on his numerous business trips around the world.
‘You look like a ghost,’ Vadim murmured, frowning as he studied her pale features. ‘Is your headache worse?’
‘No, I’m just tired,’ she replied quickly, praying that his uncanny ability to read her mind would not reveal the flare of jealousy that had ripped through her when one of the flight attendants had leaned unnecessarily close to him as she had served him his drink. ‘Where are we going?’ she queried in a puzzled voice, when he unfastened her seat belt and drew her to her feet.’
‘Bed,’ he informed her succinctly.
Her heart lurched at the wicked gleam in his eyes, and she gasped when he swung her into his arms and strode towards the back of the plane. He shouldered a door and walked into a plush sleeping compartment, complete with vast double bed. ‘You certainly like to travel in comfort,’ she muttered as he laid her down and removed her shoes. The idea that he was going to make love to her when they were thirty thousand feet in the air was shockingly exciting, but to her dismay he did not join her on the bed, instead drawing the cover up to her chin as if he were taking care of a small child.
‘Go to sleep,’ he bade her gently, wondering why her air of fragility tugged on his heart. ‘I’ll wake you when we’re about to land in Nice.’
The moment Ella’s head touched the pillows exhaustion overwhelmed her, and her sleepy brain could not comprehend Vadim’s last statement. ‘Don’t you mean Heathrow?’ she mumbled. ‘We’re flying to London, not Nice.’
‘Actually, we’re on our way to my villa in the Cap d’Antibes,’ he informed her, pushing her gently back down on the mattress when she struggled to sit up. ‘Nice is the closest airport.’
She shook her head in confusion. ‘Do you mean we’re going to France for the weekend?’
‘I’m planning on us staying for a few weeks,’ he informed her smoothly.
‘Well, that might be your plan, but it’s certainly not mine,’ she snapped, annoyed by the arrogance in his tone. ‘I can’t just disappear to France indefinitely.’
‘I checked with Marcus Benning, who told me your diary is clear for the next month. You’re not scheduled to record the film score with the RLO until the end of August. Marcus actually agreed with me that it will do you good to have a holiday.’
‘Oh, did he? It’s nice to know the two of you have organised my life for me,’ Ella said tightly, using sarcasm to disguise her panic at the prospect of spending the next few weeks with Vadim at his villa. He had changed the rules of their affair without asking her, she thought bitterly. Sharing a holiday with him and being with him twenty-four hours a day was a daunting prospect. They might drive each other mad. But far more worrying was the possibility that she would fall even deeper under his spell-and that would be just asking to have her heart broken.
She could see from the determined set of Vadim’s jaw that arguing about the trip to his villa would be pointless, especially as they were already en route to France. But she would be on her guard against him, she assured herself as she lay back down on the pillows. And with that thought firmly in her mind she fell asleep.
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