He thought how huge her eyes looked tonight and how dark and kiss-bruised her lips. She had piled her hair up high on her head so that only a few loose tendrils were dangling down around her face—and it occurred to him that by now he should be growing a little bit bored. Too much unbroken time in one woman’s company was usually enough to make him want to make his excuses, and leave.
Usually.
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. Was it her lack of sophistication which was responsible for the unfamiliar sense of ease he was experiencing in her company? Or because he had known from the outset that there could be no future in it? And there i
s no future in it, he reminded himself as his pager went off in his pocket.
He took the call with the news that the New York merger was finally going ahead—and in a way it made his decision for him. He would have to bring his schedule forward and cut short this weekend. He saw Zara’s tentative little smile at him over the rim of her glass and thought that maybe it was for the best—because he suspected she was starting to care for him, and that was certainly not what he had intended.
She was no virgin. In fact, she was one of the most exciting and inventive lovers he had ever known—and yet in a funny sort of way she seemed terribly innocent. She was also very sweet and he didn’t want her to get hurt. And didn’t he always hurt women—no matter how unintentionally—because he could never give them what they wanted?
‘Did I mention that I have to go to New York tomorrow?’ he questioned suddenly. ‘Which means that I’ll have to fly out first thing.’
Painfully, Zara’s heart slammed beneath her breast and the previous peace of the evening disintegrated. So this was it. The goodbye she had been expecting—only not quite so soon, nor quite so brutally executed. And she was going to have to take it on the chin.
‘No, no, you didn’t mention it.’ In the candlelight, she forced a bright smile. ‘But I was supposed to be leaving tomorrow anyway and I guess I am a little redundant—now that your guests have gone.’
For some reason he felt bad. ‘Perhaps we can meet up in London some time?’ he suggested.
But Zara was certain she heard evasion in his voice and she forced herself to heed it. Because she knew that their paths would never cross in London—not unless she happened to be working, and how awkward would it be if she tried to follow it up? To try to make their brief fling into something it wasn’t—and destroy her good memories of it in the process. This place had been like an oasis, she thought. She should look on it as a beautiful interlude after a tough year and put it down to experience.
‘Perhaps,’ she answered politely.
‘Shall I get the bill?’
Zara nodded and picked up her handbag. ‘Yes, please.’
He drove back to the villa and took her to his bedroom—a place of restrained and very masculine luxury—where he proceeded to make love to her. But even as her body splintered with pleasure as he wrapped her in his powerful arms Zara felt curiously distanced by the whole experience. As if some self-protective instinct were already encasing her emotions in ice—to stop her from getting hurt.
In the morning, she awoke to find him getting dressed and she watched from between slitted eyes as he pulled on a silk shirt and tucked it into his dark, tapered trousers. She thought how shuttered his features appeared—as if he was lost in thought and had already moved on.
‘You’re awake,’ he said softly.
She blinked in surprise. ‘You noticed.’
Walking over to the bed, he saw the tumble of her hair spread over his pillows and the rise and fall of her luscious breasts. ‘I notice everything about you. I noticed the way your breathing changed and the way your body stirred. And I’d much rather be here,’ he said thickly, his hand moving down over the sheet to rest in the fork between her thighs, ‘than on a damned plane.’ He leaned over to plant a lingering kiss on her lips. ‘A car will come and collect you later and take you to the airport. In the meantime help yourself to anything you want. Have a swim. Use the hot tub. I want you to enjoy your last few hours here. And safe journey home, Zara.’
Quickly, she sat up, the sheet falling to her waist as she heard what essentially amounted to a dismissal. The party was over—and it was time to get back to being who she really was. ‘And you.’
He went over to the bureau, where he picked up a long white envelope, which he waggled at her. ‘Oh, and by the way—your cheque is here.’
She blinked. ‘M-my cheque?’
‘Your wages.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Remember? The reason you came here? Big money.’
‘Of course.’ Big money? The reason you came here? Zara only just stopped herself flinching at his crass references and the sudden mention of money in the bedroom made her want to curl up and die. Awkwardly, she grabbed at the sheet and held it up against her chin.
‘Don’t cover yourself up,’ he said softly.
‘I feel naked.’
‘That’s because you are naked and someone with a body like yours should never sully it with clothes.’ For a moment he just stared at her long and hard—as if committing her to memory—before glittering her a last, brief smile. ‘Goodbye, angel moy.’
‘Goodbye, Nikolai.’
The words tore at her as she waited until she heard the sound of his car leaving, then she slipped over to the window to see his silver sports car snaking its way over the mountain road towards the airport. Her heart was hammering furiously and some dread feeling at the pit of her stomach made her go to the bureau and pick up the envelope, her fingers trembling as she pulled out the cheque which lay inside.
She stared down at it in disbelief. It was not the amount they had agreed on back in London—it was more than double that, and a huge payment for the meagre amount of work she’d done, by anyone’s estimation.