Nikolai lifted his hand in greeting. ‘Sergei—I can’t believe that I’ve prised you away from the attractions of Paris! Aren’t you already having withdrawal symptoms?’
‘Invitations to Paradis are too rare to ever be refused,’ laughed the man. ‘Though I guess you must be eager for a fellow Muscovite to confide in! Nobody sees the world in quite the same way as a Russian.’
‘Ah, but you must know by now that I confide in no one.’
‘No, I’ve heard you play your cards very close to your chest,’ gushed the blonde, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows.
‘I don’t believe we’ve met?’ he said.
‘No, we haven’t. I’m Crystal,’ said the blonde. ‘And you’re Nikolai. Mmm. Suddenly I can understand why all my girlfriends went green when I told them where I was staying!’ Her glossy lips sparkled in the sunlight. ‘God, we got stuck in a pig of a traffic jam outside Monte Carlo and I’m absolutely parched—can I have a drink before I pass out?’
Nikolai gave a cool smile. Perhaps her skills in the bedroom compensated for her apparent lack of social graces, he thought caustically as he gestured towards Zara. ‘Of course you can. Champagne okay for you? ‘
‘Mmm! I love champagne!’
‘I rather thought you might,’ observed Nikolai drily.
‘Well, why don’t we sit over here and enjoy the gardens—lunch won’t be long, will it, Zara?’
‘No, sir,’ she answered, her cheeks even redder now as she listened to Crystal’s shameless flirting. No wonder Nikolai thought all women had some kind of agenda.
With a dexterity borne of countless jobs, Zara kept their glasses topped up and soon began serving the deceptively simple lunch which had been prepared. She busied around with the seafood salad, making sure that Sergei’s glass was topped up with copious amounts of bourbon, which was the only thing he drank, but all the time she was listening to their conversation—at least, what she could understand of it.
Nikolai and Sergei kept breaking into bursts of Russian—while Crystal said, or ate, very little. In fact, the blonde spent most of the meal holding out her champagne glass to be filled up and moodily staring out at the distant glitter of the Mediterranean.
What must it be like for a woman to be ignored like that? Zara wondered as she served the dessert, a pale yellow tarte au citron. Didn’t Crystal mind that she was being treated like an ornament—or was that the price she paid for being brought to exquisite places like this? She was so lost in her thoughts that for a moment she didn’t notice the mocking blue gaze which was being angled in her direction, until she looked up and was caught in the cool crossfire of Nikolai’s gaze. Please don’t let me blush again, she thought. Don’t let him realise that he’s getting under my skin. For a split second his eyes were thoughtful as they skimmed over her and, beneath her thin white cotton shirt, she could feel the heated prickle of her skin.
‘We’ll have coffee now, Zara,’ he instructed softly.
She nodded, her throat feeling thick and dry. ‘Certainly, sir. Shall I serve it out here?’
‘If you would.’
It was an exchange she’d had countless times in her working life but for once Zara found it hard not to resent her subservient status as she hurried off to the kitchen. Having to wear a too-hot skirt and apron and to sweat slightly beneath the too-heavy weight of the coffee tray as she made her way back to the terrace. Having to fade into the background as if she were a ghost rather than a real person.
Was that because she’d had a brief taste of what Nikolai’s life was like—tasted it and liked it—and wasn’t that dangerous? So stop thinking about it, she told herself fiercely as she slid a chilled plate of truffles onto the table.
Nikolai watched as she bent to pour him coffee and noticed the tiny pinpoints of sweat which were beading her pale brow. Through the cheap white blouse she wore, he could make out the outline of a bra which looked more functional than decorative. His eyes drifted to the appalling, heavy-soled black shoes. And suddenly, he felt bemused. There were a million women who could be his at the snap of a finger—so what was it about this little creature which had so captured his imagination? Surely now that he had seen her for what she really was—a waitress and not a goddess—then his hunger for her would wane and he could forget all about her.
So why the hell did he feel an aching throb of frustration whenever he looked at her?
Crystal suddenly stood up, and gave a rather theatrical yawn. ‘Well, I’m off to sunbathe—anyone else fancy joining me? Sergei—are you coming?’
‘No, not now.’ Shaking his head, Sergei withdrew a phone from his pocket. ‘I have to talk business.’
Crystal turned her head to look at her host and her smile changed. ‘How about you, Nikolai? ‘
Nikolai realised that the blonde was gleaming him a hungry look. Now this was a textbook predator, he thought as he shook his head. Some glossy accessory of a woman who wore her rich lover’s jewels and then flirted with his younger and more virile associate. Not some pale-faced waitress who hadn’t put a foot wrong since she’d been here.
He watched as Zara piled another set of dishes on her loaded tray and another unexpected stab of conscience hit him. Had he misjudged her? Did he only want her because she had misled him—so that his resulting anger had provided an extra frisson to the sexual hunger he already felt for her? Surely that was the only logical explanation?
‘When you’ve finished clearing away you can go, Zara,’ he said abruptly. ‘Just be back to serve cocktails at seven—okay? But until then, you’re free.’
Zara thought how shuttered his face had suddenly become and that there were no traces of lazy sensuality being directed at her now. In fact, he was behaving exactly as an employer should behave—dismissing her in that slightly curt manner which seemed to emphasise the differences in their status. And if she was experiencing a sudden pang of disappointment because that brief intimacy between them had faded, then she should be ashamed o
f herself. She gave a little nod. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Back in her room, Zara pulled off her hot uniform and hung it in the wardrobe with a sigh of relief. She had come through her first test unscathed and now she had a free afternoon ahead of her. How free was free? she wondered as she splashed cold water onto her face. Free enough to slip on a pair of shorts and to wander around this Mediterranean paradise of his?