A Champagne Christmas. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
wrist.
“Fair warning, Grace,” he said quietly. “I will seduce you tonight.”
Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart almost felt about ready to explode from her chest.
“You’re welcome to try,” she managed over the rapid pounding of her heart. “I will resist you.”
He gave her a slow, seductive smile. “I would expect nothing less.”
She looked at the Leighton boxes. “And I can’t…won’t…accept expensive gifts.”
“They weren’t expensive.”
“I saw one of the price tags in the boutique. The coat alone cost ten thousand pounds.”
“You are worth far more than that.” He stroked her cheek. “I would pay any price to give you pleasure. Any price to please you.”
The reminder of his wealth and power made her tremble. The money that felt like nothing to him was a fortune to her. More than enough to save her family. She closed her eyes. No. She wouldn’t think about it. Asking Alan’s enemy for help would blacken her soul beyond recognition. She might be weak, but she wasn’t a traitor.
“If Alan found out I went out with you, he’d fire me.”
“In which case you could come work for me,” he said.
“But—”
“Either wear these clothes or go naked.” He gave her a slow-rising smile. “Decide. Or I will.”
Without asking permission, he pushed past her into her flat, carrying the boxes and pulling Grace behind him. He closed the door. They were alone.
The air seemed to leave the small apartment.
Prince Maksim Rostov—in her flat? She saw him look around at her sagging, plaid, threadbare couch. The day-old Thai takeout in the cardboard container. The blaring television with faded stars sparkling in sequins dancing to ballroom music. The laptop computer set up by her couch. Her cheeks burned.
He turned to her with a sensual smile. “Or we could just stay in.”
Stay here—with him?
Ohmygodohmygod. No.
“The dress and coat would have to be a loan,” she heard herself whisper. “I would give them back to you at the end of the night.”
He smiled down at her.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
A dark force in his eyes pulled her with all the force of gravity. He looked at her as if he’d already undressed her and tossed her naked into his bed.
Bed? Who was thinking about bed?
Going out with him tonight, she was risking everything for a dangerous feeling she couldn’t control. But she suddenly hungered to feel something that wasn’t grief, loneliness or fear. She wanted to forget. She wanted to disappear into another world.
Her knees shook as she gathered up the boxes. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She hurried to her tiny bedroom, feeling strangely lighthearted. She brushed out her blond hair for two minutes with a hair dryer, then dabbed on some lipstick. She had no bra that would work with the cocktail dress, so she left her breasts bare beneath the dress. As she pulled the aquamarine gown over her hips, the softness of the luxurious silk slid like the whisper of a caress.
She knew she shouldn’t do this.
Just one night, she told herself. One night to forget my problems. I won’t let him seduce me.
She glanced at herself in the mirror and nearly gasped. She looked nothing like the downtrodden, damp, dowdy secretary she’d been just a few moments before. Aside from her old shoes, the scuffed silver pumps which were her only option, she almost didn’t recognize herself. Who was the blond, bright-eyed young woman in the mirror?
The teal silk exactly matched the shade of her eyes. The rose-pink lipstick made her pale skin look creamy. The cut of the gown made her full breasts look exactly right with her small waist, giving her the hourglass shape of a 1950s pinup girl.
Could clothes and makeup really do so much?
It wasn’t just the clothes, she realized. It was him. His attention was making her blossom like a flower.
One night, she repeated to herself, and her teeth chattered. Just a few hours to feel pretty. She wouldn’t let him seduce her. She couldn’t. She was in love with someone else, which meant she was perfectly safe. Right?
Coming out of the bedroom, she stopped abruptly when she saw him leaning against the wall of the hallway. Maksim was so dark and handsome and terrifying. His gaze held her own, electrifying her.
“Sorry to make you wait,” she said.
He came forward, stalking her like a jungle cat. He looked slowly over her body, from the blue-green silk skimming her curves to the silver drops dangling from her ears, from her long, thick blond hair to her full pink lips. He gave a long, slow whistle.
“You, solnishka mayo,” he said in a low voice, “were utterly worth waiting for.”
AS THE chauffeur drove through the London streets, Grace watched feather-edged moonlight from the window move over Maksim’s sharp cheekbones, his angular jawline. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Beautiful. A strange word to describe such a powerful, dangerous man. But he was beautiful—hauntingly so. The moonlight caressed his straight nose, the cleft of his hard jaw, the hinted strength and latent brutality of the muscular body beneath the tuxedo and black coat.
He turned to meet her eyes, and his gaze scorched her, his gray eyes like smoke twisting from a deep hidden fire.
Grace suddenly realized…he hadn’t lied. He did want her.
Innocent as she was, she could feel it.
He wasn’t showing pity—or even kindness.
He wanted her.
The Leighton clothes had somehow transformed her into a beautiful, desirable woman. She’d felt downtrodden and invisible—now she felt like a goddess. Or possibly a sex kitten. An answering fire burned inside her with his every touch, every hot glance.
It wouldn’t last. Like Cinderella’s, her dress would disappear at the end of the night. She couldn’t keep these things. She wouldn’t let him buy her. She wouldn’t let him seduce her.
But…for this one night, she could be the woman these clothes had created. She would have one night of magic. One night to be seen.
She would be the princess in the fairy tale.
The limo pulled smoothly to a stop at the curb. Maksim got out of the car and opened her door himself. Holding her arm in his own, steadying her on the icy sidewalk beneath the softly falling snow, he led her down a popular Covent Garden street filled with pubs and restaurants. Her black shearling coat swished against her ankles as she walked. Between the coat and Maksim’s hand on hers, she felt warm in the frozen winter air.
“This way.” He led her into a stately Victorian building, through a hidden door beside a chic tavern. She saw an elegant foyer, complete with a crystal chandelier, a front desk concierge and a security guard.
“Where are we going?”
“The top two floors of this building were converted into a penthouse.” He gave her a brief smile. “A loft.”
She stopped dead on the marble floor. “I’m not going to spend the evening