The Lion in Russia (4 page)

“Pushka?” Working with Pasha and her nearly
all-Russian staff Vries had picked up a smattering of Russian, and
was perpetually confused by their affinity for nicknames, but
surely his name didn’t mean...

“Cannon,” Leo said confirming her
suspicion.

Vries raised her brows, but really the man
did look like a big gun with his bald head and bulky build. He
looked as though he could easily take on anyone foolish enough to
attack. Still, it was stupid, bordering on insane for Leo to go
without security especially given the current situation. Clearly
Lelia’s intelligence was dead-on and he was in dire need of
protection. She slid across the silky smooth leather of the car’s
seat, making sure to clutch her jeweled
minaudière
with its
lethal arsenal more closely. It would be a miracle if she didn’t
have to break it out tonight.

Leo stared at the woman sitting across the
table from him, almost not believing that he finally had her where
he wanted her. Well not exactly. He suspected that had he asked her
to go to his flat right away he would have got that “fuck you”
stare that she seemed to have patented. Besides he really was
hungry. The osso bucco was divine as always but for once it was not
his primary focus. Vries, the Goddess of Milan, Luz de un Girasole.
She of many names. It seemed he’d wanted her forever. But the
timing was never right. Either one or both were seeing someone, or
business would intervene. She was always jetting off to who knew
where and so was he. Foolish of him not to make the time, and he
was furious that she’d almost got away. He pressed his lips
together, incensed as he thought about that model she had been with
at Gianni’s. He made a mental note to make inquiries about the man
as soon as possible. Now that had come to his senses he would brook
no competition for Vries. Really it would be a goddamned shame to
kill the man, but damned if he would brook any interference now
that she was finally willing to be his. It would probably be
prudent to have Pushka look into the situation.

Her hair in its fluffy wild glory gave him a
hard-on every time he saw her. He just wanted to get his hands in
it, to hold her still as he made her his. The golden brown cast of
her skin contrasted with the pure whiteness of her dress and its
intriguing cut-outs. Her big round eyes with their long spidery
lashes had always intrigued him, for there he found a mixture of
womanliness and innocence holding tales of deep-held secrets that
made him want to know more. No matter how often he told himself
that the artlessness he saw in her eyes was out of the question in
a sophisticated woman like Vries, it still drew him in a way he’d
never experienced before. She had a way of looking up at him
through her lashes that with other women signaled flirtatiousness,
but her look was analytical and at times quite leery. Still, he
couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of her, period.
After he spent hours playing in her hair he wanted her mouth with
its full bottom lip that looked as though she was in a perpetual
pout. He’d had dreams of sucking on that lip for hours, then he
wanted it on his cock... He shook his head slowly arresting those
thoughts.

“Pasha told me she’d renewed your contract
for Girasole. I told her you were still the perfect representative
for the brand,” he said.

“Somehow I don’t think you would say that if
you didn’t have, shall we say, a personal interest in me.”

“Then you don’t know me. I never mix business
and pleasure. Your contract is very lucrative. Some would say
extortionate, and while I have no qualms about doing what I have to
do to get what I want, I would never risk my company to do so. You
are perfect for Girasole because you are just what the name is. You
are like the sunflower.”

She laughed. “Really? Other women are
compared to roses or lilies of the valley, but I’m a big, loud
sunflower,” she said, still laughing. Her southern accent rounded
her vowels as she spoke. He liked her like this; relaxed and
comfortable. He knew that she usually eradicated that accent from
her speech. Knowing she felt comfortable enough with him to speak
naturally gave him a great deal of pleasure.

“Elegant. Awe-inspiring. The light of the
sun, and its only true lover,” he said.

“Oh my, I had no idea there was a Russian
equivalent to the Blarney Stone.”

“Surely you know by now that I never say that
which I don’t mean.”

“Not even to get a woman in bed?” she said
and there was that look again. Her lashes swept down on the high
curve of cheekbones as she gave him an assessing look through
them.

“Especially not to get a woman in bed. You
will make love with me or not for one reason and one reason
only.”

“And what reason is that?”

“Because you feel the same pull that I do.
Because you lie awake nights wondering what it would be like to
feel my body sink into yours. Because you burn with the need to
feel my tongue against your skin.”

“My, you’re a confident bastard, aren’t you?
How do you know I feel any of that?”

“Because that’s the way I feel. As though if
I don’t have you tonight I will cease breathing.”

He watched as his confident dinner partner
looked down at the small salad on her plate apparently at a loss
for words. He took another bite of his delicious veal shank,
wanting nothing more than to have her under his mouth instead. He
was pretty sure he could have her naked in less than five minutes.
His gaze traveled to the complicated fastening at the neckline of
her dress. Okay, maybe seven, at the very most. It might be easier
to just rip the goddamned thing off and buy her another one.

Vries forced her gaze back to Leo’s. She knew
her rapid blinking made her look like an idiot but she didn’t seem
to be able to do anything about it because...damn. She hadn’t
expected him to put it down like that. They’d been dancing around
their attraction for over a year now, so she’d anticipated more of
the same. Now it was all she could do to think straight and she
definitely regretted wearing the clingy white dress as she was sure
he could see her arousal pointed right at him in her rigid nipples.
Thank God he couldn’t see what was going on below as her nerve
endings throbbed in response to his words. Apparently Deringer
wasn’t going to be enough of a barrier, but really sleeping with a
client was so unprofessional. Lelia would be appalled, but they
probably would have wound up just at this point even if he wasn’t
her client. That was irrelevant, of course. He
was
her
client, and sleeping with him was a major violation of protocol and
her professional ethics. Vries realized she’d been staring at Leo
for an uncomfortably long time, to the point of rudeness
really.

“So, is that a no?” he said.

Vries frowned, had he asked her a question?
Man, she was really out of it. “What?”

“Usually when I ask a woman to go to bed with
me they answer either yes or no.”

“I doubt there are many nos.”

“Not lately, but then I’m a man of great
wealth.”

“I’m sure women want to sleep with you even
if you drove taxis,” she said.

“You think so? You work with beautiful men
all the time. My looks are not anything special.”

Vries frowned fascinated by the melancholy
note to his voice. He sounded almost jealous. Surely he didn’t
think anything of all the male models that hung around her. For one
thing, most were gay, besides, compared to him they were boys. Leo,
with his imposing presence, graying blond hair and sharp Tartar
features was all man. He’d lived an interesting life and it was
stamped on every line of his face.

“I’m not going to pander to your ego.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I suspect you know perfectly well
why women go nuts for you.”

“Yes, my money,” he said.

Vries rolled her eyes and took a sip of her
wine. Her second glass tonight. She didn’t want to think about the
brutal workout her trainer would put her through to pay for it.

Surprisingly Leo didn’t raise the question of
their sleeping together again, and after dinner he escorted her
back to the car and his patiently waiting driver. Without a word,
he directed Pushka to her flat. When they arrived, Pushka opened
the door and she turned to get out.

“I’ve had a lovely evening,” she said,
surprised as Leo followed her out of the vehicle.

“I’ll just walk you to your door,” he
said.

Conscious of Pushka standing just a few feet
away, Vries turned to Leo when they arrived at her door. “As I
said, it was a lovely evening. Thank you.”

“What are you doing tomorrow? How about
lunch?” he said.

Vries smiled. She had all but cleared her
calendar when she received this assignment, but there were still
some things pressing. Though not as popular as she’d once been she
was still a favorite of a few photographers, and some were a bit
put out by the cancellations.

“I have a shoot tomorrow. It’s been awhile
since I’ve received a lunch invitation.”

“I wanted to make it breakfast, but didn’t
want to be accused of imposing. What time?” he said with a wry
twist of his full mouth.

“What time?” she repeated, still intrigued by
his lips.

“What time is your shoot?”

“Nine.”

“Will it go all day?”

“Probably.”

“Couldn’t you cancel or re-schedule?” he said
with an impatient frown.

Vries rolled her eyes at the man’s arrogance.
“Somehow I don’t think you’d be suggesting that if I told you it
was for Girasole. And the photographer is Miralena.”

“Dear God,” he said with a melodramatic
shudder. “Pasha
will
have my head. How about breakfast
before your shoot?”

“Clearly you’re not Milanese. You know
Italians don’t eat breakfast, and certainly not at the crack of
dawn,” she said with a laugh.

“Fortunately, I’m not Italian. Frankly I
think they’d be a more efficient country if they had something more
substantial than coffee and pastry for breakfast,” he said.

“Italian inefficiency, in a country this
lovely with such wonderful food why would anyone hurry? Russians
have to move fast for fear of freezing to death.”

“When there are millions of dollars at stake,
inefficiency is money.”

“Good point, but it’s not going to change, so
you might as well relax and have another cappuccino,” she said with
a laugh. “And speaking of cappuccino, if you really want to torture
yourself why don’t you come work out with me? We start pretty
early, though,” she warned. It was nearly midnight now.

“Sounds delightful. I’ve been so busy of late
I’ve gotten out of my workout routine.”

“Well, Pietro will certainly whip you into
shape.”

Leo nodded. “Should I call for you here?”

“Sure.”

“Until tomorrow lovely Vrieshka. Dream of
me,” he said. Then he leaned forward to place an almost chaste kiss
on her mouth. Before she could move to deepen it he stepped away.
She turned and unlocked the door to her flat.
Dream of me,
he said. Well that was pretty much a given.

Chapter Four

Vries studied Leo from the back of the gym
where she’d retreated to take a water break. As she had suspected,
her trainer, Pietro, was particularly brutal this morning. It was
as though he had something on her that let him know when she’d
deviated from her strict diet and exercise regimen. The gym was
small, and unlike most in the area not at all spa-like. Vries liked
it because the patrons ignored her and she wasn’t required to dress
up to attend. In Milan style was everything, and under most
circumstances she loved that about the city, but at six in the
morning she just wanted to get her workout in and get out again.
She did a languid stretch wincing as her shoulder muscles reminded
her that she’d just spent the last twenty minutes pulling Pietro’s
favorite torture device, the sled. Leo was using it now, and even
with twice the weight his movements were smooth and coordinated.
She watched as his muscles rippled in his casual t-shirt and
running shorts. His thigh and gluteal muscles bulged as he strained
to pull the weighted cart. For a billionaire financier he was a
real hard body. No wonder he felt comfortable going without a
bodyguard. Of course, muscles don’t stop bullets, she reminded
herself, but watching him she had a sneaking suspicion he was more
than capable of caring for himself.

Pietro called time and gestured for Vries to
resume her workout while Leo took a break. She almost groaned out
loud because she knew what was coming next, burpees. Oh how she
hated them. Oh how she loved what they did for her body. She put
the water bottle down on the floor and walked back over to her
trainer, passing Leo on the way. Almost against her will she
inhaled deeply as she did so, filling her nose with his clean,
masculine scent. Her body responded immediately wanting more.

Leo sat on the cold linoleum floor across
from Vries. As they tossed a weighted medicine ball back and forth
he was intrigued by the glistening sheen the hard workout had
brought out on her richly toned skin. More than anything he wanted
her to sweat like that for him and vowed that it would happen.
Distracted by a small bead of perspiration that meandered in a
leisurely course down her cleavage he missed his catch and was
rewarded when the ball slammed into his chest with a hard
thwat!
Vries St. John definitely did not throw like a
girl.

“What’s wrong Leo? Are you okay?” she said,
frowning in concern.

He raised his hand to rub his chest in the
area that still smarted from contact with the ball. “Yes. Yes. I
was just lost in thought for a moment. When will this torture
session be over?”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one hurting
all over. Pietro is in rare form today. We’ll probably do just a
little more cardio, then after some stretching we should be
done.”