Billionaire Without A Past

‘I’m very persistent. Just watch me.’

‘I am watching you.’

She was tall. It had been a bane career-wise but it was a pleasure now because it meant that in high heels she was close to eye level with him. Nikolai did not move from her proximity and rare was the man who wasn’t just a little bit intimidated by Rachel in seductive mode.

He was far from intimidated.

‘I think the music might have started,’ she said.

‘Probably.’ Nikolai responded, though he made no move to head back inside.

‘So,’ she asked, ‘are you going to ask me to dance?’

She was a flirt and a very skilled one at that, but, she fast realised, she was no match for Nikolai. She expected him to shrug, or say maybe, or even to agree and ask her to dance. Instead, he answered her with a truth.

‘I don’t need to ask.’ He took her hands and moved them so they came around his neck, then he placed his hands on her hips. ‘Do I?’

They were out on the street, standing to the side of the red carpet that led to the hotel, and she swayed to no music as he stood still.

She tried to move her body in but he held her so that she could not, all she could do was look into his eyes.

He stared back at her and she had never met anybody so good at eye contact. It wasn’t invasive or uncomfortable; instead, their eyes told each other secrets.

His gaze told her of his desire, and hers told Nikolai that he could kiss her now.

Please.

Yet he did not.

Instead, his eyes told her he would make her wait for that pleasure.

She moved her mouth in, just a little.

He moved his face back.

His hands were warm through her dress but nothing compared to the heat between her legs. Perhaps it was better that they did not kiss because if his mouth met hers now, she might ignite.

‘We should go inside,’ he said.

‘Why?’ Rachel asked, because she rather liked being out here with him. ‘I’m not on baby watch any more.’

‘We need to talk.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to talk.’

Usually he didn’t. Their lips were almost touching but it wasn’t just the feel of a mouth that he wanted—he wanted to hear her words.

‘I want to talk about you—I want to know just who it is that André is marrying.’

And she smiled because it would seem that, despite his apparent indifference, he had been paying attention after all.

‘That’s not very fair,’ she teased. ‘Why would I tell you about myself when I know nothing about you?’

‘I don’t play fair,’ he said, and she felt her heart rate quicken as he looked right into her eyes and told her that he made his own rules. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’

‘It’s going to be very loud in there,’ she pointed out, more than happy to stay outside for a while longer. She wanted to find a seat, to be alone with him, rather than be dragged back into the crowd. ‘Not very good for conversation.’

‘We’ll manage,’ Nikolai said. ‘We just need to get close.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6b4366f2-e0d6-5a46-902f-301e75e6cb53)

NIKOLAI TOOK RACHEL by the hand and they headed back inside.

The doors were held open for them as they entered the ballroom. Indeed, the music had started and, though there was an ache for physical contact, there was a need to be close on a different level.

Nikolai was not used to needing to know more about somebody. He usually preferred minimal exchange of information, yet somehow she intrigued him just as much as he fascinated her.

Why, Rachel wondered as he led her to a dark corner, was she considering telling this man something that she was struggling to tell her very best friend? Maybe it was because, unlike Libby, he had seen her discomfort about the topic of André’s wedding. Rachel didn’t blame Libby a bit—clearly her mind had been on other things this afternoon. Still, Rachel could just imagine Libby’s reaction if, or rather when, she found out that it was her cousin Shona that André was marrying.

Libby’s distaste she did not want to see.

Would she get that from Nikolai?

Rachel truly didn’t know.

Still, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. She was tired trying to work through it herself.

He called a waiter over and asked for coffee, which was served with a slice of wedding cake.

She liked it that he did not rush her to speak, that instead he watched as she peeled back the icing from the cake and picked off the marzipan.

‘You don’t like it?’ Nikolai checked.

‘No.’

He took it from her plate and as she watched his fingers tear the pale yellow dough, Rachel wondered if she might change her mind about not liking marzipan just to have him lift it to her lips.

He was shockingly attractive, not just in looks but in his measured movements and the way his eyes lifted and met hers. Instead of asking her about André, he asked about her.

‘You dance professionally?’ he asked.

‘I do,’ Rachel said. ‘Well, I’ve actually just left the company. We dancers age terribly...’

‘How old are you?’

‘Nineteen,’ Rachel said, and wondered if he’d get her little joke—the curve of his delicious mouth told her that he did. ‘I’m thirty-two,’ Rachel told him. ‘You?’

‘Thirty-one.’