Tonight, she’s helping me do my hair and make-up before dinner with Andrei. After three long days away, he’s back tonight, and has requested I join him for dinner. Alone.
I’m more nervous than I’ve been in a long time. We’ve already shared so much, but something about tonight feels more real. Like a date. Which is absolutely insane. I need to get a grip and remember why I’m doing this—for my freedom. I cannot catch feelings for Andrei, no matter how easy it feels sometimes.
“All right, open your eyes,” Piper says with a flourish of a brush against my cheekbones. The face staring back at me in the mirror is one I barely recognize. I somehow look both seductive and understated with smokey eyes, glossy lips and my hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of my neck.
“Wow, Piper. You certainly have a gift.”
“Please, it’s all you.” She waves her hand at me. “Andrei is going to freak.”
“No, it’s not like that. It's just dinner. Like a business dinner.”
Her eyes narrow, and she purses her lips. “Uh-huh. Sure it is. I see the way he looks at you.”
My face becomes hot and I fight the urge to fidget. “And how does he look at me?”
“Definitely not like you’re a business associate.”
Jesus, is it hot in here?
“You have a great imagination,” I say, but there’s not much force behind my words. Whatever is going on between us, and as far as I can tell, it’s just sex, we have probably done a lousy job of hiding it from those around us.
I can’t muster up the energy to care, though. I’ve already agreed to his terms, and I might as well go all in. No holds barred.
* * *
Dinner is romantic. There’s no mistaking that this is a date, not a business dinner, as I attempted—but failed—to convince Piper. Mikhail escorts me by car to a secret location. After a ten-minute drive on winding, private roads, we emerge onto a section of pristine beach bordered by jagged rocks.
Andrei meets me as I step out of the car. He’s dressed as casually as I’ve ever seen him, in perfectly worn-in jeans, and a black t-shirt, looking every bit as devastating in casual clothes as he does in his form-fitting suits.
His dark gold hair is brushed back and hangs just past his ears. High, slanted cheekbones give way to a hint of a five-o’clock shadow. As he steers me to a picnic on the beach, his deeply masculine scent surrounds me and my nipples pebble in response. I’m like Pavlov’s dog when he’s near, salivating for a taste of him. Maybe he feels the same way because his lips meet my own for a gentle kiss.
“It’s nice to see you, krasotka.”
I smile up at him, a cool breeze blowing over my skin. “The ocean,” I say. “I knew we were on Long Island.”
We both take a seat on the blanket that he’s laid out, laden with delectable looking sushi. Handing me a glass of wine, he shrugs. “It was never a secret.”
“I’d beg to differ.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Remember the library.”
“All the time,” he smirks. “I remember you coming on my face. That was fucking hot.”
He loads up a plate with food, and hands it to me, before preparing his own plate.
“If we’re past being secretive, why don’t you tell me where we are?”
“You already figured it out, smart girl. This spot is called Barcelona Point. It’s at the very northern end of East Hampton. We’re surrounded by seven hundred acres of nature preserves.”
“Shit,” I smile, looking out over the calm water. “I had no chance of escaping.”
“None whatsoever.”
“Then why did you chase me? You could have just let me wander the woods for a while and freak out.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He holds out a piece of sashimi with chopsticks for me. Raw fish is not usually my thing, but I choose to be open-minded. Opening my mouth, I’m not disappointed when I taste the most buttery piece of fish imaginable.
“Mmm,” I moan, washing it down with a crisp white wine. “So, why is it called Barcelona Point?”
“It’s thought to have been named by sailors in the eighteen hundreds for its likeness to the bluffs of the Spanish city.”