The Petrov Proposal Read online

  She’d allowed that—his proclamation of all other workers at the company as morons—to cut her off from her coworkers. To isolate her. Which had been William’s aim, of course. Keep her separate, keep her ignorant. And she had been more than willing to walk right into that trap.

  A reminder of why she wasn’t going to sit around and indulge in warm fuzzies now.

  Although, at least Aleksei acknowledged the hard work of everyone in the company. Not just the designers or the management. And not just an innocent young intern.

  “I…well, I really appreciate that you consider me a valuable member of the team. And it isn’t like I was planning on leaving Petrova tomorrow.”

  “When it becomes something you’re seriously considering, talk to me.”

  “I will.”

  She leaned back, letting the soft cushions take some of the tension out of her shoulders, letting the silence stretch between them.

  “You don’t want coffee?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I dislike the idea of depending on anything that alters my mood.”

  Now he did, anyway. Aleksei had come too close, had been too tempted to simply drown himself in a bottle of alcohol when Paulina had died. Had done for a while. It had been easier not to feel. Now, he didn’t need a substance to accomplish that. It simply came naturally to him.

  But that was why his business was so important. He didn’t rely on caffeine, or alcohol. He relied on success. The high of being the best. Of knocking out competition. Becoming the most recognized brand name in jewelry. He had done all of that.

  Now he was simply working for more. More success. More wealth. But he had to keep moving. Because when he stopped…well, he just didn’t stop. He hadn’t, not since that first low. Not since he’d determined he wouldn’t let himself sink into oblivion, not matter how much he wanted to.

  He very much wasn’t in oblivion now, and the arousal coursing through his body when he looked at Madeline was a reminder of that.

  He didn’t sleep with employees. It was bad for business, and it was shameless abuse of power. He believed that. He lived by it. But Madeline tested that. Was a temptation beyond anything he had known before.

  It was six years since his wife had died. Since he had watched them lower the casket, holding the woman he loved, into the ground. A part of him had been buried then too.

  He’d had sex since then, of course. After the physical need had come back, he’d taken care of it. Long-term mistresses being his solution of choice.

  But what he felt was basic sexual arousal, a man responding to a woman. Any woman. But it wasn’t unique. There was no fire.

  When he looked at Madeline, there was fire. Heat and desire on a level he couldn’t remember feeling before. The need was for her. The fire burned for her. Not for Olivia. Not for some anonymous woman.

  Not even for his wife.

  He clenched his hands tight, until the tendons stretched, the mild pain a hope of distraction from the current of need that was washing through him. It didn’t work.

  Not with her so close, glossy brown hair tumbling over her shoulders in waves, blue eyes bright, the pale, lush curve of her breasts framed by the scoop neck of her deep purple top. She was a call to sin he didn’t know if he wanted to resist.

  He could. He was certain of that. He’d been to hell and back in his life. Willpower, strength wasn’t an issue. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to turn away.

  The only thing that made him question it wasn’t her status at the company—somewhere in the past ten minutes he’d gotten over that—it was the haunted look she got in those beautiful blue eyes. A look he didn’t want to take on. A look he didn’t want to contribute to.

  She sighed and leaned back, berry-stained lips curving into a soft smile. “I should probably adopt your philosophy. Or maybe start sleeping. But there’s always so much to do and…coffee’s more readily available than downtime.”

  “I don’t really sleep anyway,” he said.

  He hadn’t slept through the night since Paulina died. But it was good. He used that. He worked. He kept his mind busy.

  “I wish I didn’t need sleep,” she said, misunderstanding.

  Good. He didn’t wish that sort of nightmarish insomnia on anyone. Living between sleep and being awake, with only ghosts for company.

  “There are advantages,” he said. “Especially as we have shops in so many time zones, offices in so many time zones. It helps that I’m able to get up and make calls when I need to.”

  “Mmm,” she said absently, sipping her coffee, slender fingers sliding over the ceramic handle of the mug. Which shouldn’t be arousing, not in any way. And yet, it was.

  It was far too easy to imagine those smooth, delicate hands caressing his body.

  When he looked at her eyes again, they were intent on him, the glitter in them hot, longing. Her cheeks flushed with color. Need. Want. Desire. He saw it all there. He saw it because it reflected what he felt.

  He met her gaze, dared her to look away. She didn’t. But then she blinked and brought down the shutters, her eyes blank of anything other than sheer stubbornness.

  Aleksei knew women. He created jewelry for women, to make them feel beautiful, to make them happy. It wasn’t often he felt he didn’t understand a woman’s thoughts.

  Madeline continued to look at him, her expression cool now. As if trying to prove to him that he was wrong about the fire he was certain he’d glimpsed.

  He was more accustomed to women making invitations, to them following up a moment of clear physical attraction with an attempt at making it more than simple attraction.

  It was clear Madeline was not going to be making any invitations.

  “When you’re ready, Madeline,” he said, “we can discuss what it is you want.”

  Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “With work?”

  He couldn’t suppress the rush of pure satisfaction that flooded through him. “Of course.”

  She nodded. “Yes…that sounds…good.”

  His heart was pounding faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Blood running hotter and faster as he imagined what it would be like to get her to confess her desire for him. Interest. Excitement. Feeling. After six years of experiencing nothing more than basic human needs, this was foreign to him.

  He wanted Madeline Forrester. And he intended to have her.

  “Oh, please be straight,” Maddy muttered under her breath as she finished tacking up part of the large swath of silk fabric.

  She was trying to make a swag effect around the ballroom between the wall and the ceiling in an attempt to soften what was a very crisp look. All of the decorations, the table settings, the linens, the lights, would be white, and the idea was to add texture and dimension.

  Which was why she was wobbling on the second-from-the-top rung of a ladder, hanging on with one hand and trying to wrangle the fabric with the others.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Aleksei’s deep voice resonated in the empty ballroom.

  Maddy wobbled a bit and set the last tack into place, covering it carefully with a fold of fabric, before looking down.

  “Working,” she said sharply. “And could you not sneak up on me when I’m nine feet off the ground?”

  She moved her foot forward, careful not to snag her high heel on the ladder rungs as she climbed down. Her shoe slipped on the last rung and she gripped the sides of the ladder tightly, making a very ungraceful dismount as she plopped both feet on the marble floor.

  Her heart was pounding heavily, from the almost fall and from Aleksei’s presence. She’d managed to avoid him in the two days since the train ride from Milan. Since the moment she’d nearly given in to the desire coursing through her and touched him. She’d been so tempted. So weak.

  She turned and took a step back and nearly ran into Aleksei’s broad, muscular body. He reached out and bracketed her in, his hands gripping both sides of the ladder.

  “What were you doing?” he asked, voice
low and deadly.

  “My job,” she said stiffly, trying to fight the languor that was spreading through her.

  “You were on top of a ladder in high-heeled shoes. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

  “No. I mean, maybe it is a little, but I work in heels a lot, and I climb ladders sometimes.”

  “Don’t I pay a very efficient team to help you with the physical aspects of preparing for events?” he practically growled.

  “Yes, you do, but I was experimenting with this effect and sometimes it’s just easier to execute an idea myself. I’m not always sure how it will come together and…”

  “It was a very foolish thing to do.”

  He was so very close. And he was angry, but he wasn’t scary. He was concerned…for her. And that was…that was almost more intoxicating than being close enough to him that with the slightest tilt of her head she could brush her lips against his.

  She jerked her head back, because if she didn’t do that, she was going to do the opposite. And that would be beyond stupid.

  But then he moved his hand, placed it on her back. His large, warm palm spread wide across her shoulderblades, heat seeping through her silk blouse. He moved his thumb slightly, the faint rasp of calluses against the thin fabric audible in the large, empty space.

  Everything in her was tangled. Snarled together so tightly that she was immobilized by it. She couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare at him. Part of her wanted to move away. To run, as fast as she could. Away from the job, from the man. From the temptation. From the sneaky little hussy that lived inside of her that wanted everything she should never, ever have.

  But so much of her wanted to stay. To revel in that touch. The woman in her wanted it, wanted his hands to slide over her body, for the touch to become intimate.

  It wasn’t normal to be celibate for so long. It just wasn’t. And she wanted…she just wanted. And really, wasn’t that normal? To want a man to want her? To want the man in return? It was hard to have a healthy view on your sexuality when the press had labeled you a home-wrecking slut. It was hard not to see yourself that way. At least, it was hard for her.

  And that was why, for five years, there hadn’t been anyone. Not a lover, not even a date. No kissing, no caressing. There was no middle ground in her life. There had been work. That was all.

  That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that she’d let William and his deceit dictate her actions for so long. He never should have had that power. Never should have had any power at all.

  But he did. Even with the realization, he still did.

  She moved away from Aleksei, and he let her go. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice hard. “And I wouldn’t have lost my balance at all if you hadn’t come in and yelled at me, so maybe next time wait until my feet are on the ground before you come after me.”

  He strode toward her, his expression fierce. “Is this a joke to you? Do you know how quickly things end? Do you understand?”

  The rawness in his voice shocked her. The depth of emotion. She honestly didn’t want to know where it came from. She couldn’t handle it. If she knew who he was, beyond being a good boss, if there was any more…she just couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, needing to defuse it. “I’ll be more careful next time. I’ll wear better shoes.”

  “Have one of the other staff do it.”

  “Why? They aren’t any more smash-proof than I am.”

  His dark eyes were hard, uncompromising. “Have one of the other staff do it.”

  He was her boss. Something she needed to remember. “Okay, next time I’ll have one of the team do it. Does that satisfy you?”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’m as close to satisfied as I will get,” he said stiffly, walking ahead of her and out of the room.

  She put her hand over her heart, felt it beating rapidly beneath her palm. She didn’t know what had just happened. What had passed between them. What had changed. But something had.

  And she knew that there would be no putting things back as they had been.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PERFECT. It was all perfect. From the glossy white floors to the white silk draping from the ceiling, Madeline had executed the look of the ballroom with style and grace. It was classic, with a modern edge.

  Of course, Madeline had nearly broken her neck for the effect.

  It was possible he’d overreacted. When he’d walked into the ballroom and seen her there, nine feet above the marble floor, three inch spiked heels draped over the ladder rungs, the rush of anger and adrenaline that had filled him had been instant.

  He would have reacted to any employee, any person, behaving so recklessly. Of course, she hadn’t seen her behavior as reckless. Stubborn woman.

  “Aleksei.” The woman next to him, a woman whose name he hadn’t bothered to get, stroked his forearm with long, manicured fingers. “I do so enjoy every piece that you’ve designed. I have a fabulous idea for your next collection.”

  He let her drone on. He didn’t need ideas, especially not from spoiled heiresses.

  Then he caught sight of Madeline. Madeline who was wrapped up tight in a slinky, form-fitting white dress that conjured up fantasies that were hardly pure. Madeline, who had caused him to remain sleepless every night of the week. She was slipping out the side door, making her escape, just as she had done at the Milan exhibition. He was done with sleepless nights. He was done wanting and not having.

  He set the champagne glass down on one of the tables and extricated himself from the other woman’s hold. She was still talking to anyone who would listen as he made his way across the ballroom and to the door that was nearest him.

  It would only take a taste. Something to satisfy the hunger that was eating at him. If he could have that, if he could satisfy his curiosity…that was all he needed.

  He looked down the corridor and saw the tail of Madeline’s white dress disappear as she exited the hall and went to the indoor gardens.

  It had been a long time since he’d pursued a woman, if he ever had. He didn’t usually bother. But this woman had burrowed her way under his skin. Until he had her, until he sated his body’s desire for her, she would seem like so much more than she was.

  She was just a woman. He was a man. They wanted each other. It was that basic. It was nothing more. He just needed to prove that to his body.

  She was standing near the door when he walked in, her attention fixed on some of the tropical plants. A striking contrast, the bright pink flowers, Madeline in white, and the deep snow just outside the warm glass sanctuary that shielded all the delicate blooms.

  He took a moment to admire her, admire the small dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. Especially that tight round bottom, a feature that made him wonder if she spent time in the gym.

  She turned suddenly. “Aleksei,” she said, no emotion to her voice.

  “You’re always running out on your own events. If you don’t enjoy them, you might worry about the guests.”

  Soft pink lips tilted up half-heartedly. “Well, last time I had to get shrimp.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And this time…I needed…air.” She looked away from him and turned her focus to the thick glass walls. “I didn’t need it bad enough to go out there and brave the snow so I thought I would compromise.”

  “You look tired,” he said. It was true. There were shadows under her eyes, but it was more than that, it was in the way she held herself. He didn’t like to see it. It made him feel…responsible somehow.

  She pulled her lips into a hard line. “I don’t know that that’s an appropriate thing for a boss to say.”

  He took a step closer to her. “And a friend?”

  “You aren’t my friend.”

  No. He wasn’t. Anything he said to her, any personal gesture he made, would be made with the aim of getting her into bed. That wasn’t the action of a friend. Though, truly he wasn’t certain that he had friends. He certainly hadn’t gone
out of his way to cultivate any friendships. He had never been the social one.

  “True.” He watched her face, the way she looked at him. The hungry look in her eyes, the one that mirrored his own growing need. “Are you going to pretend there’s nothing more between us than a working relationship?”

  She pulled her mouth tighter, into a determined pucker. “Yes, I think I should pretend that. Because what’s the point of going anywhere else?”

  He moved closer to her, half expecting her to back away, but she didn’t. She held her ground, arms at her sides.

  “Nothing long-term,” he said. “But there are benefits to short-term arrangements.”

  “The woman you were talking to?”

  “No one. I didn’t even ask her name.”

  Madeline only looked at him for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She stepped forward and put her hands on his cheeks, blue eyes serious as she looked at him. Then she pulled up on her toes and kissed him.

  Her kiss was clumsy, a bit inexperienced, but her enthusiasm more than made up for any missing skill. She kissed like a woman who was starving, and he was more than willing to meet her need.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, groaned when he felt her full breasts press against his chest. Her tongue, soft and wet, slicked against his lips, a timid question in its touch. And he answered, meeting her thrust for thrust, tasting, savoring, enjoying every bit of her sweet mouth.

  An enthusiastic sound climbed her throat and vibrated between their lips as she shifted her hands so that she was clinging to his shoulders. He cupped the back of her head with his other hand, sifting his fingers through silky strands.

  Just a taste? He wanted a feast. Wanted to move his hands over her curves, without the thin barrier of her dress hindering him. He wanted to feel her skin, smooth and warm. Wanted to taste every inch of her.