Russian's Ruthless Demand Page 6

  ‘It’s right this way,’ his PA cut in, and Lukas realised that hell yes, he was being dismissed. And he didn’t like it.

  * * *

  Eleanore connected with Petra’s matronly, down-to-earth friendliness right away. And she really liked the office she’d been assigned. ‘Oh, I have a view.’ She stared out the window at the elegant snow-covered city below. In New York her view was of a rusty fire escape on the high-rise directly opposite.

  ‘Mr Kuznetskov wanted all the offices to have a view,’ Petra began in her heavily accented voice, ‘and as we are the tallest building in the district he accomplished it.’

  ‘You like working for him.’

  ‘I love it.’

  For some reason that surprised Eleanore but maybe Petra was just blind to his faults. She glanced around at the neat office and noticed a large white box on her desk. ‘I think someone might have left something in the office.’

  ‘No, that’s a coat, hat and gloves. Lukas asked me to arrange it before you left Singapore.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful of him,’ she said, wondering why he would do such a thing.

  Inside she found a lovely black jacket lined with real fur. Something that meant she would never be able to wear it.

  ‘I know.’ Petra pulled open a drawer and started setting up the desk for her. ‘He’s always thinking of others.’

  ‘He is?’ Was this the same man who was known in the press for his ruthless takeover of smaller companies and who went through women the way florists went through rosebuds?

  ‘Oh, yes. When my mother needed surgery for a bad fall last year we couldn’t afford it and he helped out by providing a nurse for three months. And of course this ice hotel is for charity.’

  ‘Charity?’ That was news to her.

  ‘Did he not tell you?’

  ‘No.’ And then she wondered if maybe there was a language barrier and charity didn’t mean the same as it did in America. ‘Are you sure?’

  Petra gave her a funny look. ‘Of course I’m sure. And last year he opened a crèche at the office for the parents who were struggling with child care.’

  ‘I did that,’ the man himself drawled from the office doorway, startling both her and his PA, ‘so that my employees wouldn’t waste time commuting and worrying about their children. It was efficient.’

  Now that made sense to what Eleanore knew of him.

  Petra gave Eleanore a don’t-believe-him look. ‘The staff loved you for it.’

  ‘Then it was worth every penny. And speaking of staff, a few of the key people you need to meet have to leave the building site early today so we need to get moving now.’

  Eleanore pinned a smile on her face when she realised he was coming with her. ‘You’re coming too?’

  ‘Da. Is that a problem?’

  Yes. After a long flight where she’d struggled to concentrate on work she needed some time away from him. ‘Of course not,’ she said pleasantly, more for Petra’s benefit than for his.

  ‘Good. Grab the jacket and we’ll go.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘It doesn’t fit?’

  Petra beamed a smile at him. ‘She hasn’t tried it on yet.’

  Eleanore trained her gaze on Lukas and wondered how she was going to get around not wearing the jacket without offending Petra, who had obviously chosen it. ‘Um...’

  ‘Give us a moment, would you, Petra?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll be in my office if you need me.’

  Lukas waited for her to pass before strolling further into the office. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows again and Eleanore really wished he wouldn’t do that.

  ‘What is it now?’ he asked silkily.

  For some reason Eleanore felt terrible rejecting the jacket. ‘It was a nice gesture but I can’t wear it.’

  ‘It wasn’t a nice gesture,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘It was efficient. If you come down with an illness you’ll be useless to me. Now stop trying to be contrary and go and put it on.’

  ‘I’m not trying to be contrary.’ She picked up her puffer jacket from the back of the office chair and slid her arms into the sleeves. ‘I already have a jacket.’

  ‘You have a New York jacket that works in temperatures not exceeding minus ten. By the time you finish the site visit wearing that you’ll be frozen solid.’

  ‘Well, I can’t wear this one. I have a thing about fur.’

  ‘Want to run that by me again?’

  ‘It has fur on it. Real fur. Have you heard of PETA?’

  ‘Is he a lover who doesn’t like fur?’

  ‘No, it’s an organisation that supports the ethical treatment of animals.’

  Half expecting him to tell her she was being ridiculous she was surprised when he only released a weary breath and jerked away from the doorway. ‘Let’s go.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘THIS WASN’T MEANT to be a fashion stopover,’ Lukas growled, glancing at the time on his phone.

  ‘It’s not that easy to decide,’ Eleanore told him from in front of the store mirror.

  It was for him.

  One overcoat was as good as another as far as he was concerned. And frankly every time she shrugged out of one to put on the next her suit jacket opened wide and her silk blouse pulled tight across the tips of her breasts, outlining her lacy bra beneath. Did nobody else notice that but him?

  ‘Just pick one,’ he ordered, ‘or I’ll do it for you.’

  Both Eleanore and the salesgirl looked at him as if he was mad. He felt mad.

  ‘Bozhe, it’s just a jacket!’

  ‘I don’t like wearing clothes I don’t love.’

  His eyes narrowed. Was she for real? ‘Clothes are clothes.’ Although even as he said it he knew that wasn’t true. Clothes had a way of defining who you were, not that he really gave a damn personally, but those with money only wanted to mix with other people with money. It was the law of the social jungle.

  ‘So says the man with the custom-made shoes.’

  Of course she’d noticed. She was from old money. She’d no doubt marry someone one day who was from old money and together they’d have lovely children with perfect pedigrees. And could his thoughts become any more pointless?

  With a growl he rose from the ruby-red chaise and riffled through a rack of overcoats. He stopped at an olive-green cashmere coat and yanked it off the hanger. It was lined with a quilted fabric printed with rows of brightly coloured exotic birds that reminded him of her. Since it looked about the right size he marched behind her and held it up. ‘Put this on.’

  Her eyes caught his in the mirror just as they had the night before in the ice bar and again he felt an unexplainable jolt somewhere in the vicinity of his solar plexus. Annoyed he shook the coat. ‘Any time this year will be good, Miss Harrington.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Her long lashes swept down to cover her fascinating eyes and his groin tightened even more when she fitted first one arm and then the other into the coat.

  ‘Oh, it’s gorgeous.’

  Lukas didn’t bother looking. He already knew the green would bring out the same tones in her eyes. He grabbed an ushanka from a hat stand and checked the tag. Fur. He went through five more before he found one she wouldn’t be offended with. It was black and soft and had ear flaps. Then he chose gloves and a muff and returned to her.

  ‘I can’t put that on my head. It will ruin my hairdo.’

  ‘Take it down.’

  ‘Take it down?’

  She stared at him in the mirror again, the green jacket totally encompassing her from neck to calf, and Lukas didn’t think he’d been more turned on in his life. This was supposed to have been a two-minute stopover to ensure that she didn’t fall ill from being underdressed and instead he was
watching as she raised her arms to release her hair and he was riveted to the spot like a store mannequin. The chestnut waves fell about her shoulders in a cloud of silken strands and the scent of fresh apples rose to his nose. Her cheeks were flushed as she gazed at his reflection and it was all he could do not to spin her around and crush her pink lips beneath his own.

  He glanced up at the heating vents in the high ceilings and wondered if someone had just turned the furnace up to full bore. It was so hot it almost seemed redundant to dump the ushanka on her head but he did it anyway.

  ‘Ouch.’

  She raised her hand to adjust the hat and he shoved the gloves into her hand. ‘No fur, so don’t complain.’

  ‘I’m not complaining.’

  She moved toward the small fitting room to look at herself more closely. Lukas turned away.

  ‘Put that on my account,’ he told the boggle-eyed salesgirl.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘No, wait. I’m paying.’

  Eleanore grabbed her purse and spun around to rush out of the sitting room except that Lukas was in her way.

  She stopped, startled at how close he was. ‘I mean it, Mr Kuznetskov. I don’t need you to buy clothes for me.’

  No, she wouldn’t need anything from him, Lukas thought, and why did that realisation make him more annoyed. ‘This isn’t about what you need, Miss Harrington, it’s about what I need.’ And he really needed to get out of this ridiculously hot store.

  ‘I can buy my own clothes.’

  ‘This is a business expense.’

  She frowned. ‘Can you do that?’

  He had no idea and he didn’t care. ‘I can do whatever I want.’

  ‘I think you’ve been doing whatever you want for far too long.’

  Eleanore hadn’t actually meant to blurt out her thoughts like that but somehow he drove her to say things she would normally keep to herself.

  ‘True.’

  His offhand reply riled her, especially after Petra’s earlier revelations about his do-gooding deeds had made her think she had read his character wrong. ‘And what’s this about the proceeds of the ice hotel going to a charity?’

  Something in his expression became guarded. ‘What about it?’

  ‘If Harrington’s is to be associated with the hotel I feel like it’s something we should have known about already.’

  ‘And now you do.’

  Frustrated with his unconcerned attitude she scowled up at him and tried to ignore the feeling of being trapped. ‘Which charity is it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘You can’t remember?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  Eleanore frowned. ‘So why do it?’

  ‘Because I can.’

  Maybe she hadn’t got him wrong after all. Maybe Petra was just hoodwinked. ‘And no doubt looking good in the community doesn’t hurt either,’ she said.

  It aggravated him that she had already pegged him as a bad person after one comment that hadn’t been meant for public consumption. It was as if she could see the very essence of him and knew there was something lacking inside of him. ‘There is that,’ he agreed flatly.

  The way she gripped her handbag to her chest and glared at him let him know she was ready to leave but he ignored the cue.

  ‘If possible I think my opinion of you just sunk lower,’ she said snootily.

  ‘Is that something I’m supposed to care about?’ he asked.

  ‘Obviously not.’

  Her haughty attitude was like nails down a chalkboard to his soul and Lukas’s irritation spilled over. Who was she to judge him? ‘Are you quite finished with the interrogation?’ he bit out tersely. ‘We have a month to turn this project around and I need someone competent and willing to work hard.’

  Her chin jerked upward. ‘Why do I feel like you just slighted me?’

  ‘Perhaps my opinion of you isn’t that much higher than your opinion of me.’

  ‘We should make a great team, then,’ she said testily.

  Lukas stepped into the doorway of her dressing cubicle. ‘We’re not a team, Miss Harrington. I’ve hired you to work on a project for my company.’

  ‘Well, exsqueeze me.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She didn’t know why she felt stung by his words but she did. ‘You know there’s something just so damned attractive about a man without a sense of humour who is doing something altruistically and doesn’t give a damn.’

  Lukas raised both arms and placed his hands on top of the cubicle doorframe and leaned toward her. ‘But I’m not trying to be attractive,’ he said softly.

  Eleanore produced a smile worthy of a jackpot winner. ‘Oh, to be as successful as you are,’ she challenged.

  His eyes grew hooded as he studied her and Eleanore had to resist the urge to fidget under his intrusive gaze. She knew she was digging at him to cover her awareness of him. An awareness she did not want to feel given that she didn’t even like the man or his seeming lack of values. ‘You have a smart mouth.’

  He stared at said smart mouth and she felt her lips tingle. She held perfectly still as if she were a small field mouse waiting for the big tom cat to spring. As if she wanted the big tom cat to spring. ‘Perhaps it needs to be put to better use.’

  It took a moment for his remark to register and when it did Eleanore had no idea how to respond. Her mind was fuddled by the heat radiating from his body as he towered over her and it took everything she had just to resist leaning in close enough to touch him. Shocked by a yearning she hadn’t felt before she arched a brow as if she dealt with situations like this all the time.

  ‘Eating?’ she suggested, trying for lightness but knowing she’d missed by a wide margin when he smiled a slow smile that spoke of pleasure the likes of which she had never known before.

  ‘Of a sort.’

  She took in a slow breath and reminded herself that he was a rampant male chauvinist who had obviously gotten his way for far too long.

  ‘Or is that what you want, Eleanore?’

  The way he said her name—deliberately low and gruff—sent a spill of liquid heat through her pelvis. ‘What I want?’ Somehow she had completely lost the thread of the conversation in the small confines of the cubicle, the heavy, unexpected throb of arousal absorbing her focus.

  ‘Is all this arguing some sort of foreplay?’

  Foreplay! The mere suggestion told her that he knew how much he affected her and she stiffened with raw embarrassment. She pulled the hat from her head, denial hot on her lips. ‘I tend to like the men I engage in foreplay with.’ She said it breezily, as if it was a daily occurrence.

  ‘Then perhaps you’re missing out. Perhaps you need to engage with someone you feel passionate about rather than someone you merely like.’

  Eleanore swallowed heavily. ‘Well, I can assure you that person is not you.’ But even as she said the words she knew they were a lie. Since he’d walked up to her at Glaciers she had been totally aware of him as a virile male in the prime of his life. It was all she could do to concentrate on anything else.

  He lowered his arms and stepped into her space, but she refused to look up at him, instead she kept her eyes on the open top button of his dress shirt.

  ‘I’ve always been partial to apples,’ he said roughly.

  Apples? Her eyes flicked to his in surprise. Why was he talking about fruit when all she could think about was how close they were and how if she moved barely an inch the tips of her aching breasts would find some relief pressed up against the hard wall of his chest?

  As if he could sense the inner turmoil of her mind fighting her body he lowered his head even further and spoke softly into her ear. ‘Tell me what you want, moya krasavitsa.’

  T
ell him... Eleanore released a shaky breath. She didn’t know what she wanted. Or she did but she didn’t want it with him. Or anyone. Relationships were way down on her list of goals and she knew she couldn’t afford to be distracted at a time when she was trying so hard to impress her sister with her professional abilities.

  ‘I don’t want anything from you,’ she said shakily.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Kuznetskov, will that be all today?’

  The salesgirl’s interruption was such a welcome relief Eleanore expelled a rushed breath. ‘Yes,’ she said before Lukas could reply, ‘and I’m paying.’

  Much to her consternation the girl’s eyes darted to Lukas as if seeking his permission, which made Eleanore’s temper soar. Women bowing down to him was the last thing a man like Lukas Kuznetskov needed.

  She glared up at him and dared him to argue with her.

  He studied her for a moment longer without moving and then he stepped to the side. ‘By all means, Miss Harrington. Would you like her to stamp your feminist card as well?’

  ‘Only if she’ll stamp your chauvinistic one at the same time,’ she said smartly.

  He laughed softly and she ignored him, turning to slip past him, determined to show him how little he affected her. Unfortunately the room was a lot smaller than she realised and she drew in a sharp breath as her bottom brushed up against his thighs. It shouldn’t have had any effect given the layers of clothing between them but streaks of tingling awareness zipped through her already aroused body and she had the overwhelming urge to push back against him.

  His hands rose to rest lightly at her waist and she thought she heard him take a quick indrawn breath before she turned her head and saw the way he was staring at the spill of her hair down her back.

  He looked at her as if he was about to bend his head toward the creamy expanse of her neck, as if he was about to raise his hands and bring them around to cover her breasts that felt twice as full as normal, and for all her hot-headed denial she knew she wanted to feel what it would be like to have his hands on her. His mouth. Then he flashed his cocky movie star smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and she jerked back from him.