The Russian's Ultimatum Read online

  He’d planned to sleep on the flight from London but for once had been unable to, his awareness of the proximity of his guest having made it impossible for him to relax. He kept catching wafts of the perfume Emily had applied before he’d finally got her out of her bedroom. Her scent was delicious, an earthy smell with a touch of honeyed sweetness his senses responded to of their own accord, much to his annoyance.

  He needed rest, and for that he’d need space. He would have a quick meal then get his head down—eight solid hours to recharge his batteries—then leave at first light.

  He followed the pathway, traversing the beach up to the main entrance of the lodge, aware of Emily following behind him. Valeria, his head of housekeeping, was there to greet them.

  After exchanging pleasantries, he said, ‘Please show Miss Richardson to her guest hut and show her where everything is. Are we okay to eat in an hour?’

  Valeria nodded. His unplanned visit hadn’t fazed her in the slightest. Under normal circumstances Pascha would give proper notice of a planned visit so she could prepare for it. Today she’d had roughly twelve hours to get everything ready, but from what he could see everything was in hand.

  When he stepped into his hut, everything was exactly as it should be, not a speck of dust to be seen. Before heading to the bathroom, he stepped out onto the veranda and breathed in the salty air, closing his eyes as he willed the usual peace he found on Aliana Island to envelope him.

  With Emily Richardson there, he suspected peace would be a long way off.

  * * *

  If Emily’s eyes were capable of widening any further, they would have. Connected to the main house by a set of dark hardwood stairs, her hut looked more like an enormous high-end luxury cabin than anything else, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up to give a panoramic view, not just of the island but the surrounding ocean. The entire front section of the hut was one huge sliding door. Steps led out to a private veranda with a dining table, then down to a balcony with an abundance of soft white sun-loungers. More steps led down onto the beach.

  After a quick discussion about Emily’s dietary requirements—apparently there were three chefs on site to prepare whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted—Valeria left her to settle in.

  Alone, Emily tried to take it all in, but she was so overwhelmed by her hut, her surroundings, the fact that Aliana Island was a private paradise...

  And this was her prison. A jail with a four-poster bed.

  It felt as if she’d been plunged into the middle of a fantastical dream.

  In the far corner of her hut was a roll-topped bath. She longed to get into it but felt too exposed with all the surrounding glass. Instead, she opted for a shower in her bathroom, which was mercifully private, then changed into a pair of three-quarter-length skinny black trousers with silver sequins running down the lines and a silky grey vest top. She applied her make-up with care. She’d always adored wearing make-up, loved the way it could enhance a mood. Today it felt as if she were applying battle armour.

  Her appearance taken care of, she set about unpacking then padded out barefoot onto the veranda. Her spirits soared further when she found her own small private swimming pool. She’d caught a glimpse of the long pool that snaked around the main house, but to find she had her own one too...and one that was entirely private.

  Now that she really took stock of everything, she could see she really did have complete privacy. No one could see into her space. She decided that she would definitely use the bath in the morning.

  She checked herself, forcing a curb on her excitement. This was not a holiday. Not by a long mark. She must not forget that.

  It wasn’t until she leaned over the pebbled wall separating her balcony from the steps down to the beach that she caught a glimpse of another hut overhanging to the left of hers. Craning her neck for a better look, she jerked when she saw Pascha leaning over his own wall talking into his mobile phone, the top part of his naked torso visible...

  He must have sensed her gaze for he suddenly looked down. For the briefest of moments their eyes locked before she tore her eyes away and stepped back, out of sight.

  She inhaled deeply and placed a hand to her chest. Her heart raced, her skin tingled and, much as she tried to blink the image away, all she could see was the hard chest with a smattering of dark hair over taut muscles.

  Utterly unnerved by her reaction to semi-naked Pascha, Emily resolved to stay in her hut for the rest of the evening, using its phone to call down to the kitchen and request her dinner be brought up to her.

  It felt safer to keep out of his way. Much safer.

  In the meantime, she needed to call home. But picking up the receiver proved a fruitless task. The phone in her hut connected to the main house but nowhere else. As soon as she dialled any other number, a beep rang in her ear. She was disappointed, but she wasn’t surprised. The whole point in Pascha keeping her there was to stop her communicating with anyone. All the same, she decided to try her mobile phone. She curled up on an outdoor sofa that was completely hidden from view and switched it on. Nothing. No signal bars, no Internet access. Nothing. No wonder Pascha hadn’t bothered trying to take it from her.

  She muttered a curse just as a soft buzzer went off in her room.

  ‘Come in,’ she called, assuming it was her dinner being brought to her. Rising to her feet, she gave a sharp intake of breath when she found Pascha in her hut.

  ‘How have you settled in?’ he asked, stepping out to join her on the veranda. He’d changed into dark linen trousers and an open-necked light blue shirt. Were it not for the fact his attire had been ironed to within an inch of its life, and his hair styled to such an extent that not a single strand dared depart from the slight quiff, she would have said he looked casual. But then, casual was a state of mind. Emily doubted he ever switched off.

  ‘I’ve settled in fine,’ she replied, resisting the urge to push him back into the hut and shove him out through the French doors. It wouldn’t make any difference if she did; they’d only be separated by the windows. She held her phone out to him. ‘I need to call home.’

  He didn’t even look at it. ‘There’s a block on all electronic communications without an access code.’

  ‘I gathered that. I need to call home. Is there another phone I can use?’

  ‘You only left this morning.’

  ‘A lot can happen in a day.’ At his narrowing eyes, she quickly added, ‘You can hover by my side while I make the call and satisfy yourself that I’m not revealing any state secrets. I just want to make sure my dad’s okay and that my brother’s got there.’

  Silence hung between them while Pascha contemplated her request. After what felt like an age, he inclined his head. ‘You can use my phone.’

  ‘Seeing as my phone is useless here, I’ll need a number my dad and brother can reach me on too.’ She’d assumed he would take her phone and keep it on him, had assumed her family would be able to reach her even if she couldn’t contact them.

  When it looked as if he would refuse, she folded her arms. ‘Look, you either let me give them an emergency contact number or I will make it my business to be the most difficult guest you’ve ever had here.’

  ‘You’re already the most difficult guest I’ve ever had here.’ Was it her imagination or was that a glimmer of humour in his eyes?

  ‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’

  ‘I can well believe it. You can call home and give my number as an emergency contact, but it can wait until after we’ve eaten.’

  This time it was her eyes that narrowed.

  His cheeks formed a semblance of a smile. ‘Yes, Emily, you will be dining with me tonight.’

  ‘I was planning on eating on my veranda. Alone,’ she added pointedly.

  ‘You can dine alone on your veranda for the rest of the week but this
evening I require the pleasure of your company. My staff have set up the beach table for us.’ From the way he enunciated the word ‘pleasure’, it was obvious he found the prospect of her company nothing of the sort.

  ‘Why not?’ She threw him a brittle smile. ‘You and I are clearly ideal candidates for a romantic meal for two.’

  His lips tightened. ‘Circumstances are what they are. I’ll be leaving for Paris first thing in the morning and there are a number of things we need to discuss before I leave.’

  ‘Excellent.’ She grinned at him without an ounce of warmth. ‘Let’s get this over with, then—with any luck it’ll be the last time we have to suffer one another’s company.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE LONG TABLE on the beach had been set up for them just metres from the lapping waves of the ocean, tea-lights in lanterns glowing under the dusky sky.

  ‘We’re sitting on mats?’ she asked, nodding at the thick cushions on the sand.

  ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

  She shrugged. ‘No. I’m just surprised—I imagined you’d be averse to getting sand on your expensive clothes.’

  ‘I find the sound of the ocean soothing,’ he answered shortly. Emily’s antagonism towards him was becoming trying. She had no one to blame for her predicament but herself. ‘After the day I’ve had, I could use some respite.’

  She settled onto a mat, tucking her bare feet beneath her. They really were the most delicate feet, he noticed: petite, much like the rest of her. Except her luscious mouth, of course.

  He’d followed behind as they’d descended the stairs, holding onto the rail while she bounded down the steps without support, her long black hair, free from confinement, springing in all directions.

  Emily had an energy about her that zinged. He found it intriguing. He found her intriguing. Any other woman in her predicament likely would have resorted to tears to get her own way. Emily had only become more defiant.

  For the first time in a long time the image of Yana came into his mind, startling him. He never thought of his ex, had ruthlessly dispelled all memories of her so she was just a hazy figure in his past.

  Yana and Emily were polar opposites, in looks and temperament.

  The more time he spent with Emily, the more he was reminded of an uncut fire opal, passionate and vibrant. Yana was as polished as a Plushenko diamond. But by the time he’d ended their relationship she’d been a diamond without the lustre. And it had all been his fault.

  He’d never had a problem attracting women but since he’d broken away from Andrei and set up on his own, building a multi-billion-dollar business in less than a decade, the feminine attention had become altogether hungrier. They were all wasting their time, something he spelt out at the outset of any fling. Sex was the most he could offer, the most he could give.

  He’d destroyed the cut and polish of one woman. He would never put another in that position.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a member of staff bringing out their starter of grilled squid and topping their wineglasses with chilled white before disappearing.

  Pascha watched Emily take a bite, her lips moving in a way he could only describe as sensual. She really did have the sexiest of lips.

  ‘What?’ she asked a few moments later, looking at him quizzically.

  To his chagrin, he realised he’d been too busy staring to take a bite of his own food.

  He speared his fork into the delicate flesh of the squid. ‘While you’re staying here, I don’t want you feeling you have to hide yourself away.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem when you’ve left. I’m looking forward to exploring your island.’

  ‘Good.’ It shouldn’t bother him that she didn’t want to be in his company. It didn’t bother him. ‘You’ll find the island a place of hidden treasures. My staff are highly trained and able to cater for any wish you might have, which leads me to the next item on the agenda.’

  ‘Do you want me to take minutes?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You mentioned items on an agenda.’ She put her knife and fork together and pushed her plate forward. ‘Would you like me to act as secretary and write a set of minutes so neither of us forget what’s discussed?’

  Were it not for the unexpected spark of light that flashed in her eyes, he could have believed she was serious. ‘I’m sure you’ll remember it all without any problem.’

  ‘A near compliment? I’m touched.’

  His smile loosened a fraction. ‘Onto my next item—my staff. I hand-picked them all and I do not want them upset in any shape or form.’

  The spark of light in Emily’s eyes vanished. ‘My problem is with you, not your staff.’

  ‘So long as you remember that. They follow my directives and know not to help you communicate with the outside world. Don’t embarrass yourself or them by asking for their help.’

  ‘I can go along with that so long as you promise to pass on any message from my family straight away.’

  ‘If they get in touch once I’ve left the island, I will let Valeria know and she will pass on any message.’

  ‘You’d better,’ she muttered, becoming mute as staff inconspicuously cleared their starters away before returning with their main course. Soon, an array of fresh lobster, salads and spicy rice dishes was placed before them.

  Emily heaped her plate with a little of everything then, using a bare hand, gripped the body of the lobster. Her eyes met his, insolence ringing from them as she reached for a claw with her other hand and twisted it off with a snap.

  Pascha winced. While Emily attacked her lobster with relish, only using her crackers when absolutely necessary, Pascha used a more methodical approach, taking great care with the hard shell. By the time they’d finished eating, he was as clean as when he’d started, while her lips and fingers were slippery with butter.

  His blood thickened as an image came into his mind of those slick fingers touching him...

  What was it with this woman? Since he’d given Yana her freedom, he’d had more than his share of brief encounters, all with highly groomed, beautiful women who looked good on his arm. Not one of those women had roused him in anything other than the most basic of fashions. They certainly hadn’t roused his senses. Not in the way Emily was doing at that moment and she wasn’t even trying.

  ‘Anything else you want to discuss?’ she asked, pulling him out of his wayward thoughts. Bowls of hot flannels were placed before them and she took one, dabbing at her mouth, that beautiful, sensual mouth, and wiping her hands.

  ‘No. That’s everything.’ There had been other issues but at that moment his brain felt as if a hazy fog had been tipped into it.

  It was time to step away from this situation.

  He should have got his staff to set up the dining hall, which had a table large enough to seat thirty. He should have stuck her right at the other end from him, all communication via megaphone.

  If he hadn’t wanted to eat by the ocean, he would have done just that, but in the morning he would leave for Paris, unlikely to return for a few months. There was something soothing about the sound of the gentle, rippling waves. It brought a contentment he’d never found anywhere else, a knowledge that whatever he did and wherever his future lay the tides would still turn.

  ‘In that case, let’s move on to “any other business”: my phone call home.’ She held a hand out, palm up. ‘You gave me your word.’

  He had to admire her devotion to her father. Such intense loyalty, she’d been prepared to spend a night in a police cell for it. It almost made him forgive that it had been his office she’d broken into and his data she’d attempted to steal. Almost.

  Where had his own loyalty been eight years ago? He’d put his pride first and now it was too late. Andrei had died estranged from the adopted son he’d once
adored. Was it any wonder his mother couldn’t forgive him?

  Snapping himself out of the settling melancholy, he pulled his smart phone out of his pocket and keyed in the password. ‘What’s the number?’

  She recited it from memory. As soon as he heard the tone connecting the two lines, he passed it to her. She practically snatched it from him and pressed it to her ear.

  ‘James?’ Emily couldn’t hide her relief. Her brother was there.

  After hearing that her father had refused to get out of bed for his dinner, never mind eat it, Emily’s eyes darted back to Pascha, who was watching her.

  There were so many more questions she wanted to ask, but she resisted.

  Now was not the time, not with Pascha listening in so closely. It was one thing for people to know how ill her father was, but his suicide attempt... No; that was between James, her and the medical profession. When her father recovered—and he would; whatever it took to get him better she would do it—she didn’t want him living with the stigma of being the man who’d tried to kill himself. He wouldn’t want it for himself. When he was well, his pride was everything. It had always been that way.

  ‘My phone hasn’t got a signal here,’ she lied to her brother. ‘So use this number if there’s an emergency. It’s right there in front of you on caller display—write it down, James. By the way, has Hugo called?’ She didn’t know if it was relief or dread she felt when James replied in the negative.

  Disconnecting the call, she handed the phone back.

  Her chest felt full and heavy and she suddenly realised she was on the verge of tears.

  ‘Who is Hugo?’ Pascha asked. ‘You mentioned him earlier.’

  Emily sighed.

  ‘Hugo is my boss. Or perhaps I should say was my boss.’

  Pascha arched a brow. ‘Was?’

  ‘Unless Hugo’s had a new heart transplanted into him, I won’t have a job to go back to. Most employers wouldn’t be happy about a key member of staff taking off for a week’s leave on a whim, especially when that member of staff has already been given an official warning for taking too many unauthorised absences.’ Stopping herself, Emily clamped her lips together. Pascha didn’t care about her or her job. All she was to him was a potential threat that had to be hidden away.