Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (20 page)

Her headache melted like snow
under blazing sun. Seeing Sergei would infuse her with a good dose of optimism.

“Great idea, Nicolai. Jeffrey and
Paul can handle the Belchem planning without me. Let’s go.”

Out of the restaurant, Nicolai
held her arm. “Cecile, I didn’t talk to Sergei about Roussov. Are you still
going to meet with him?”

She breathed deeply and smiled to
reassure him. “Yes but I’ll be careful and watch every word I say. Don’t worry.
I’ve faced difficult situations before.” She didn’t tell him that her throat
was so constricted she hadn’t been able to swallow a bite since the previous
evening.

* * * * *

Sergei received them with a big
smile. He shook John’s hand and bent over hers for a lingering kiss that warmed
her wrist and created a little lump in her throat. For the last two days she’d
wondered if he’d managed to snatch her out of his heart. But he was back to his
old self, with his grand manners. Had he forgotten and forgiven her refusal to
marry him?

They worked for a couple of
hours, the three men hunched over their pads, brainstorming and scrawling while
Cecile sorted their requirements and typed on her laptop. On and off, Sergei’s
deep blue gaze connected with hers and rested on her face. She reveled in the
reassurance it sent her. He still wanted her, cared for her.

“In summary, we need a machine to
clean the soil and another to filter the water,” the general concluded, while
arching his eyebrows. “What do you suggest, Cecile?”

She blinked. The only thing she
wanted to suggest was for him to dismiss the two others and take her into his
arms. She couldn’t concentrate on environmental pollution when her own
environment encompassed strong healthy arms and a muscular body she yearned to
press herself against.

Her fingers rubbed her forehead
as she tried to recall her professional faculties. “There is a cleanup
procedure for the soil.” She summarized it without too many technical details.
“It’s easy and very efficient.”

From the blank looks the two
officers sent her way, she realized her explanations sounded like Chinese.

“If you say so,” Nicolai sighed.

The general asked. “What about
the water cleaning?”

“There’s another more delicate
technique.”

“You mean as incomprehensible?
Can our scientists learn these procedures?” the colonel asked, worry lines
crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Of course.” Cecile tried to
reassure them. “Trust me these machines are easier to learn than the analytical
equipment waiting at the airport. Technical specialists will install the
machines and train your scientists.”

In spite of her refusal to marry
Sergei, she knew that she loved him with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t
marry him because she was convinced it would hurt both of them, but she would
do anything to prove to Sergei that she loved him.

Anything
?

Yes
. Even inviting Rob
Spencer to coordinate the cleanup. It was his area of expertise. She took a
deep breath. For Sergei, she’d put her stubbornness aside and deal with her
former fiancé. No matter what the cost to her pride. And she’d fulfill Sergei’s
wish for a complete environmental cleanup.

“Cecile,” John said, while
rubbing his hands. “You’ll help me formulate this proposal with all the
technical details. Tomorrow, I’ll e-mail it to my boss for approval.”

“Thank you, my friends. John, if
I know you well by now, you must be very thirsty.” The general grinned. “Reach
into my closet and pour us some vodka to celebrate. Nicolai will help you.”

As both men strode to the back of
the room, Sergei put a restraining hand on Cecile’s. “Cecilya, I miss you so
much,” he whispered in her ear. “I tried to stay away from you. But I can’t.
Please, come to my flat tonight.”

Her heart hummed with joy. She
smiled.

And then she winced. Her
shoulders slumped as she remembered she had to meet with Roussov in the
evening. It was the only way to get the equipment from the airport and set up
the lab. Turning down Sergei’s company to go with his enemy was the hardest
thing on Earth at that moment. She would give a year of her life to accept his
invitation.

With a blink and a sad smile, she
asked, “Can I come tomorrow instead?”

“A vodka toast to celebrate the
new proposal,” John boomed.

Sergei answered “Of course,” to
both of them but his smile disappeared and his questioning gaze rested on her
for a few excruciating seconds.

They drank one toast and right
away Sergei stood, dismissing them. “You will excuse me, my friends. I am
expected at the Ministry of Defense. Thank you for all your help.”

He shook hands with her and John.
There was no smile or hand kissing. With a heart laden with sorrow and a taste
of bile in her mouth, she dragged herself out of his office.

At the hotel, Nicolai left her
with a somber, “Good luck. Be very careful.”

In the elevator, John grabbed her
arm. “You’re coming to have a late lunch with me. I noticed you didn’t eat
anything this morning.” On the second floor, he pulled her along toward the
dining room. “I know anxiety can cut one’s appetite. But you were sick three
days ago. You’ll need all your strength for tonight.”

Cecile appreciated his paternal
solicitude. John was a good man, even if he sometimes lacked finesse. He
ordered for both of them and almost forced her to eat. After lunch, he walked
her to her room.

“I think you’re making too much
out of this dinner. If you succeed it’ll be good. If not, we’ll try something
else. I may ask our ambassador to intercede. After all, this Roussov has no
right to obstruct our project.” He patted her shoulder. “We’ll see you
downstairs at six-thirty. We’ll go in Tania’s van.”

Cecile sighed. John knew only
part of the problem. She couldn’t care less about Roussov. Her concern was all
for Sergei. Right now, she resented her contract and the lab refurbishment that
entrapped her in tonight’s ambush.

Chapter Sixteen

Cecile pressed a fist against her
side to tame her racing heartbeat and curtail the burning pain of her stomach.
Lifting her head, she squinted at the neon lights blinking the restaurant’s
name in multicolored flashes.

John, Paul, Jeffrey and Tania
would meet her again in a couple of hours. She took a deep breath and strode to
the entrance. In the hall, Cecile gave her name to the receptionist and asked
for Colonel Roussov’s table. From the hostess’s bright smile, she understood
she was expected. “This way please, Dr. Lornier. I have a table for two waiting
for you.”

In spite of the dimness
prevailing in the area, Roussov must have spotted her as soon as she stepped in
the dining room. Wearing a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and red tie, he was
the epitome of elegance. He came toward her, a beaming smile on his face.
Extending both hands, he took hers and squeezed them. “My dear Cecile, what a
pleasure to see you. You look lovely. I’m glad you recovered from your
indisposition.”

He helped her into a chair. “This
is a friendly—I should almost call it a family—dinner.”

Both his eyes and lips stretched
into a thin line. “You will forgive a father for indulging in useless
reminiscences. You remind me so much of my daughter, slim and almost the same
age.”

His withering gaze clearly
suggested,
And like her, I guess you’re stupidly attracted to the wrong man.

Cecile bit her tongue and
maintained a blank expression. Although his comparison shook her to the core,
she promised herself to control her emotions and facial expressions, no matter
what he said or did.

She twisted a little in her seat
and surveyed the elegant crowd patronizing the restaurant, the men in dark
suits or decorated uniforms, the women with heavy makeup, low-cut dresses and
fashionable attire. She had donned a high neck ruffled shirt and a long black
velvet skirt quite appropriate for the place. Her hair was pulled back to her
nape in the same severe bun that she wore during her work day. She was here on
a business meeting and wanted to look the part.

So far, nothing in the loud and
cheerful crowd generated fear or anxiety. A cozy place with lively music and
joyful couples swirling on the dance floor. At her table, the deceivingly
gracious banter of the old man hovering over her with a paternal smile…

And yet a cold shiver slithered
down her spine and chilled her bones. Cecile waited. For what, she didn’t know.
She slid her hand into the purse on her lap and switched on the tape recorder.

Roussov ordered the vodka and
toasted their new friendship. He drank and chuckled and joked. She hardly
tasted the liquor. He asked about her work, her company, the lab in Boston.
Innocent questions and easy conversation intended—she assumed—to help her relax
and drop her guard. He assisted her with the menu and suggested the excellent
salad buffet. She never ate salad in foreign countries and declined.

He kept the conversation light
all through dinner. A dull headache and throbbing pain pounded her skull. She
wanted to get the meal over with and run out.

“Would you like a dessert?”

“No, thank you.”

Across the table, Roussov leaned
forward. “When would you like to receive the equipment?” The question resonated
like a gong.

She sent him a wary look and
snapped to attention. “The sooner the better. Tomorrow? Do you have the permit
with you?”

His eyes narrowed. He inched
forward. His voice dropped to a murmur. Cecile fumbled in her purse to turn up
the volume of the recorder and extracted a tissue. She blew her nose. He waited
a second while she crumbled the tissue in her hand.

Roussov shook his head. “In spite
of what you think, Cecile, I want to help you retrieve your precious equipment.
I’ll sign the permit and personally oversee the transfer of the boxes to the
lab.”

She arched her eyebrows and
stared at him. This was too good to be true.

“We can work together. Trust me,
I only want to help you…and help myself.”

She swallowed hard, afraid to
guess.

Roussov rubbed his hands, then
tented his fingers. “Dr. Lornier, in this world we pay for everything.” The
ominous sentence rang loud in her ears. “My help will support your contract,
enhance your position and facilitate your life.” Roussov gave her a broad grin.
“It is worth a lot.”

Cecile abstained from asking how
much.

He seemed annoyed by her silence.
“Well, you do want your instruments and the permit?” he barked not realizing
he’d raised his voice.

“Yes, Colonel Roussov. I do want
the equipment for the Belchem Lab. And I need the permit. Am I going to get
it?” She matched his tone so he would continue to speak loudly.

“For five hundred thousand
dollars,” he spat out. “I’ll have the equipment delivered to the lab.” He
leaned back in the chair and focused a sharp gaze on her.

Cecile gasped. Her jaw sagged.
She had expected something rotten but not a blatant request for money and such
a big sum to boot. “You’re asking me for a bribe?”

“No. It is payment for services.
I heard you paid the Belchem chemists who collected samples for Fedorin.”

“You’re always well informed.”

“It’s my job, my dear.”

Her eyebrows flickered a little.
“I requested official permission to pay them. Since you know everything, you
probably heard their stipends didn’t exceed fifty dollars a person.”

“They are technicians, collecting
dirt. This is the Director of National Security offering his services.” He
sneered in disdain. She shivered and prayed the recorder was functioning well.

“It’s a big sum, Colonel Roussov.
Do you imagine me asking permission for this type of money?”

Roussov seemed to relax a bit.
“My dear Cecile, I respect you as a strong independent person. Don’t disappoint
me. I don’t expect you to ask for approval. You’re the powerful Program Manager
with complete control over your contract budget.”

She wanted him to detail his
motives. “What if someone hears about this…bribery?”

“The deal is strictly between you
and me. You will not confide in anyone. And you can be sure I will not
advertise it. I may even retire to a warmer climate.”

She pinched her lips without
answering.

“What’s your answer?” he asked
impatiently.

“No.” Cecile shook her head. “I
will not pay to get the permit.”

“Not just the permit.” He frowned
as if he couldn’t believe her refusal. “I will retrieve the whole shipment from
the airport and transfer it to the lab.”

“Not a penny, not a ruble.” Her
hands trembling, she mentally blessed her little recorder.

“You may regret it, Dr. Lornier,”
he said with an icy tone. Hatred radiated from his eyes.  

She cringed and immediately
stiffened to cope with the situation. The lights suddenly brightened the room
and Roussov clapped his hands. She noticed that applause filled the air. The
singer, a gorgeous redhead, microphone in hand, glided toward them, halted and
gave her a dazzling smile. Her thoughts still muddled by his outrageous demand,
Cecile unconsciously smiled back at the singer.

Roussov’s arm suddenly landed
around her shoulders and his head leaned against hers. A flash blinded them.
She blinked, clutched her purse shut and lunged back, jerking out of his
embrace. “What’s going on?” she almost shouted.

He shrugged but she glimpsed the
satisfied glint in his eyes. “I asked her to cheer you with a special song.”
Sarcasm underlined his words.  

“But this flash? Someone took a
picture. Why?”

“Why not? The entertainer has
announced she will sing for you. The local photographer must have taken a
picture for the restaurant.”

She didn’t believe him. He had
set her up. She was sure of that. He had put his arms around her and assumed an
intimate posture just as the photographer snapped the picture.