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She swallowed the panic that had started in her stomach and was now steadily working its way up her throat. She wasn’t completely lost. She had a little money in the bank, enough to give her some time—
And then?
‘There you are.’
Hannah blinked, focused in the oncoming dusk, and then stared in surprise as the man from Red Square strode towards her, his leather coat billowing blackly out behind him, a scowl on his face. He looked like an avenging angel, his blue eyes blazing determination and maybe a little irritation as well. Still, she could not stem the unreasonable tide of relief and gratitude that washed over her at the sight of him. A familiar face.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to make sure you’d sorted out your papers.’
‘That was very kind of you,’ she said, cautiously, because three months of travel had taught her to be, if not cynical, then at least sensible. ‘And unnecessary.’
‘I know.’ The corner of his mouth quirked very slightly, so slightly that it couldn’t be called a smile in the least. Yet still the sight of it made Hannah feel safer, and stronger, even as she felt a shiver of awareness. He was, she acknowledged, a very attractive man. ‘Did you get your passport sorted?’ he asked and she shook her head.
‘No. I got a form.’ She waved the paper half-heartedly. ‘Apparently I’m to go to the police department and file a report there.’
‘They’re all disorganised.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Or corrupt. Usually both. It could take hours.’
‘Wonderful.’ Her plane left in three hours. Clearly she wasn’t going to be on it.
‘Do you have any money at all?’ the man asked abruptly and Hannah shrugged, not wanting to admit just how much trouble she was in. ‘A little,’ she said. ‘In the bank.’ But not enough to pay the passport fee, and a hotel, and meals and other expenses besides. Not nearly enough.
‘A credit card?’
He must have been speaking to the woman in the embassy. Or maybe he just knew everything. ‘Um … no.’
He shook his head with that rather contemptuous incredulity she was coming to know so well. ‘You embark on international travel, to Russia of all places, without even a credit card, and clearly no savings?’
‘Put like that, it does sound pretty stupid, doesn’t it?’ Hannah agreed. She wasn’t about to explain how she hadn’t wanted this trip to send her into debt, or why she was wary of credit cards. ‘It was just,’ she explained quietly, ‘this trip was kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’
He looked sceptical. Of course. ‘Really.’
‘Yes, really. You have that disdain thing down pat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve been lectured to so much since I was in elementary school.’
He let out a little bark of laughter that surprised her, it was so unexpected. She smiled, glad that he seemed to possess a sense of humour after all. ‘I am simply surprised,’ he said, his expression turning stern once more. ‘Have you been travelling long?’
‘Three months.’
‘And you have not encountered problems before this?’
‘Not as big as this. I was charged double at a restaurant in Italy, and a train conductor was really rude—’
‘That is all?’
‘I guess I’m lucky. Or at least I was.’
‘I suppose,’ the man said, ‘I shouldn’t even ask if you have travel insurance.’
Now that hadn’t even crossed her mind. Hannah managed a grin. ‘Nope.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nope, I shouldn’t ask, or nope, you don’t?’
‘Take your pick.’
One tiny corner of his mouth quirked up again, and Hannah felt her heart skip a silly beat. He was intimidating and stern and even a little scary, but he was also incredibly good-looking. Sexy, even, especially when he smiled.
‘Were you planning to stay in this country long?’
‘Actually, my plane leaves—’ she checked her watch ‘—in two hours.’
He stared at her, eyebrows arched in incredulity. ‘Today is your last day?’
‘Apparently not. Mother Russia is insisting I stay a little longer. I need an entry visa as well as a passport.’
The man shook his head, clearly rendered speechless by her predicament. Hannah could hardly resent his incredulity. She’d really been rather foolish. And she could have so easily prevented this, as this man had pointed out. A credit card, a zipped pocket, a little more savoir faire.
‘You must,’ he finally said, ‘at least have some friends who could wire you some money.’
‘Well, not exactly.’ He arched one eyebrow, the gesture saturnine and unbearably eloquent. ‘I live in a small town,’ Hannah explained. ‘And it would be difficult to wire—’
‘No one can help you out when you are desperate? I thought small American towns were full of do-gooders. Everyone knows everyone and is willing to help each other out.’
‘I think you’re thinking of Mayberry,’ she said, naming a fictional town in a 1960s television programme where the sun always shone and people ambled down to the drug store for an ice-cream soda.
‘So your town isn’t like that?’
Hannah didn’t like what he was implying. What did he have against her, anyway? Just that she’d been phenomenally stupid and left her passport in her pocket? He seemed bent on a mission to discredit and disillusion her. ‘I just have to think about it,’ she said evenly. ‘And who to call.’ Who could and would drive the distance, both literally and figuratively. Ashley, maybe, but with her move and new job she was just getting on her feet financially.
‘And while you’re thinking …?’ He glanced around at the darkening streets, the steady traffic.
‘I’ll figure something out.’ She could fetch her bag from the hotel, find some place cheaper. It was a start, at least. ‘Why do you care, anyway?’ Hannah eyed him, his close-cut hair, his icy eyes, the overwhelming breadth of his shoulders under all that black leather.
The man’s eyes narrowed even as his lips twitched. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her dryly. ‘I have no intention of enacting any of the options that are undoubtedly racing through your terrified mind. Let me introduce myself properly.’ He slid a wallet from the inside pocket of his coat—of course he’d keep it there—and from it extracted a crisp white business card.
Hannah took the card warily, for, although she wasn’t generally a suspicious person, she still had sense. No matter what this man thought. She wasn’t going to trust him. Yet, anyway. She glanced down at the card, her eyes widening slightly at the words printed on it in stark black ink. Sergei Kholodov, CEO, Kholodov Enterprises, and an address of an office building in Moscow’s centre. She handed the card back to him.
‘Impressive.’ Of course anyone could print up a fake business card, even an expensive-looking one like that. This man could still be a drug dealer or a slave trader or who knew what else. She folded her arms across her chest, conscious of the chilly wind ruffling her hair and cutting through her parka.
‘I can see you’re not convinced.’
‘I’m not sure why you’re here.’
‘At least you’re finally showing some common sense,’ he remarked dryly. ‘To tell you the truth, I feel a bit responsible for the theft of your things.’
‘Why? I was the one who forced you to let that little boy go.’
‘You didn’t force anything,’ he told her a bit sharply, and Hannah suppressed a small smile that she’d actually pricked his pride. It made him seem more approachable, if such a thing were possible. She wasn’t sure it was.
‘Sorry,’ she said, her lips twitching. ‘I distracted you then from your manly effort.’
He didn’t like that either, judging by his scowl. ‘I could have come over sooner,’ he told her. ‘I saw what those kids were doing.’
‘You watched?’
‘I waited a moment too long,’ he clarified. ‘And in any case, you don’t have many options.’
That was certainly true. ‘I’m still not sure how that affects you,’ Hannah said.
‘You can stay the night at my hotel. In the morning I can help you sort something out with the police and the embassy.’
He made it sound so simple. Maybe there was a get-out-of-jail-free card after all. ‘That’s very nice of you,’ Hannah said at last. She still felt uncertain, even suspicious. It seemed too easy. Too nice. For him, anyway. ‘What hotel?’ she finally asked as her mind considered and discarded non-existent possibilities.
‘The Kholodov.’
‘The Kholodov?’ It was one of the most luxurious hotels in Moscow, and way, way out of her budget. And he, she recalled from the card, was Sergei Kholodov. That Kholodov.
Now his mouth kicked up at one corner, and even though it still wasn’t really a smile it transformed his face, lightening his eyes, softening his features, so Hannah felt a sudden blazing bolt of awareness ignite her senses. When he smiled he really did look amazing.
‘You’ve heard of it.’
‘Hasn’t everyone?’
He shrugged even as his mouth quirked a little more, revealing a surprising dimple. The assassin had a dimple. She felt another bolt of awareness, as if her senses had been struck by lightning. It wasn’t, she decided, an unpleasant sensation. Not at all.
‘So,’ he said, ‘you might as well stay there.’
Hannah hesitated. She believed in the best of people, wanted to believe in the best in him. She just didn’t want to be even more foolish than she’d already been. ‘It’s very nice of you to offer—’
‘If you’re worried about security, you can take a taxi yourself to the hotel. I’ll pay for the fare.’
‘You don’t—’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have any money, do you? And trust me, it is no trouble. I have empty rooms. I have plenty of money. And,’ he added, glancing at his watch, ‘I have things to do. So make up your mind.’
When he put it like that, it sounded sensible. And surely her best option. ‘Okay,’ Hannah said at last. ‘Thank you.’
‘I told you, it is no trouble.’ Sergei stretched one arm out towards the street and within seconds a taxi cab had screeched to a halt in front of him. Sergei dismissed it, and the next one he flagged as well, explaining tersely, ‘They’re both unmarked. You’ll feel safer in an official taxi, with a meter.’ His consideration for such a detail touched her.
Finally a legit taxi pulled to the kerb, and Sergei opened the door. ‘The Kholodov,’ he told the driver, handing him a wad of rubles. He glanced at Hannah. ‘I’ll phone and make sure they’re expecting you. We can get your bags sent over later. Is that sufficient?’
Sufficient? It was crazy. Yet she understood what he was asking, that he was taking these measures to make her feel safe, and she appreciated it more than she could put into words. He’d saved her, quite literally. ‘Thank you. I don’t know what to—’
‘Go.’ He practically pushed her towards the cab, and then slammed the door as soon as she’d slid into the seat.
‘Say,’ she finished in a whisper as the cab sped away into the darkness and she wondered if she’d ever see her saviour again.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU wanted to know about the girl?’
Sergei glanced up from the papers he’d been scanning to scowl at his assistant, Grigori. The girl …
Hannah Pearl, he’d discovered with a little bit of research, lone traveller, ditzy American. He did not want to know about the girl—even if he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since he’d sent her off in a taxi two hours ago. He’d come back to his office, changed out of the street clothes he wore whenever he went to the unsavoury areas of the city in search of Varya. He hadn’t found her; he’d found a beguiling American instead.
Even now he found himself thinking about the violet of her eyes, those rose-pink lips. He wondered what kind of figure her bulky parka had hid. But even more so than her physical charms, of which he acknowledged she had several, he’d been bizarrely fascinated—and irritated—by her honesty. Her optimism. She’d seemed so … unspoiled. When had he last encountered a person—a woman—like that?
‘She’s settled?’ he asked tersely. That was all he needed to know.
‘Yes, in the grand suite.’
He’d given her the best room in the hotel. Stupid, perhaps, and unnecessary, but he hadn’t liked seeing her looking so lost as she stood on the steps of the embassy. He hated seeing people vulnerable, hated seeing that shadow of uncertainty and fear in someone’s eyes. He’d seen it far too often. And for a moment, a crazy, regrettable moment, the American had actually reminded him of Alyona. And he never thought of Alyona.
Yet in that moment on the steps when Hannah’s eyes had clouded and she’d lifted her chin—seeming, for an instant, so brave—she had reminded him, and it had made him approach her, offer things he’d had no intention of offering. Feel things he didn’t want to feel.
Of course, he’d already made the decision to find her at the embassy when he’d seen her on the steps, felt that protective tug. When she’d walked away from him in Red Square he’d felt something else he didn’t like to feel: guilt. He’d watched those kids run their grift and he could have stopped it sooner. Maybe if he had, if he hadn’t taken those few scornful seconds to just watch, she’d still have her money and passport. She’d be on a plane back to America, instead of upstairs in the best room of his hotel.
Upstairs …
Now his mind—and body—went in a totally different direction. He didn’t feel protective so much as … possessive. He was curious about the body hidden beneath that parka, those eyes that darkened to storm when she felt something other than that relentless optimism. Curious and also determined that the only thing this woman would awaken in him was lust.
Impulsively, yet with iron-like decisiveness, he reached for a piece of heavy ivory stationery embossed with the Kholodov crest and scrawled a message. Folding it, he handed it to Grigori with a level look that ensured no more questions would be asked. ‘Deliver that to her. And prepare the private booth at the restaurant for dinner. For two.’
Grigori nodded and hesitated by the door. ‘You found Varya?’ he asked and Sergei let out a heavy sigh.
‘No.’ He’d been too distracted by a certain American to devote any more time to his search for Varya. He knew she was in trouble again; the tearful, incoherent message on his private voice mail had given testament to that. Yet when was Varya not in trouble?
‘She’ll turn up again,’ Grigori said, and Sergei knew he was trying to convince himself more than Sergei. The three of them had banded together back in the orphanage, and Grigori, Sergei suspected, was more than half in love with Varya, and had been since they were children. ‘She always does.’
‘Yes.’ Yet he did not want Varya to turn up as a nameless, disease-riddled corpse forgotten in a doorway or floating in the Moskva River. But how many times could he save her? He’d already learned to his own frustration and sometimes despair how few people you could really save. Sometimes not even yourself.
Grigori held up the note, and Sergei half regretted his impulse to write it. ‘I’ll deliver this now.’ He nodded his assent, knowing it was too late for regrets. And better that he put Hannah Pearl in her place as a woman to be desired and discarded rather than anything else. Anything deeper.
A woman who made him think of Alyona, and remember the kind of boy he’d once been, as youthful and naive as she so obviously still was.
No, Sergei thought as he gazed moodily out at a darkening sky, this was much better.
Hannah gazed around the gorgeous hotel suite, half afraid to touch anything. The place was amazing. And huge. She’d actually thought the closet was another bedroom, until she’d realised there was no bed in it.
What kind of man was Sergei Kholodov anyway?
A tremor ran through her, something half between alarm and excitement. He was that kind of man. She might not have a lot of experience when it came to men—Hadley Springs didn’t have a great dating scene—but she still recognised her own reaction. There was something so blatantly sexy about Sergei Kholodov, the way he emanated all that authority, the iciness of his eyes, the leashed power of his body. She’d never been with a more exciting person. Man.
Yet it hardly mattered, because Hannah doubted she’d ever see him again. His kindness was already more than Hannah had ever expected. So why was she still thinking about him?
It was hard not to think of him. The events of the last few hours had been both surreal and overwhelming, from the first moment that Sergei had strode across Red Square, to seeing him outside the American Embassy, to entering his amazing and opulent hotel. It was the stuff of fantasies, of soap operas, not the life of a very ordinary woman from a tiny town in upstate New York. Nothing like this had happened to her for the entire three months of her trip, and now on the last day her world was spinning.
Well, hopefully it would settle right back on its axis tomorrow, when Sergei helped her get a passport and a plane out of here.
