Operation Heartbreaker (8 page)

07

She knew by the magazine pictures that Viktor was a stunner. But it was news to her that looking at him could make you dizzy.

He had the look of a prince and the eyes of a pirate. When he smiled, one knew for certain that he was more a pirate than a prince. Visually, he was a mixture of Zac Efron and a younger version Joe Manganiello. Hot!

His jet-black hair appeared longer than in the photos. He hadn’t combed it back today. Instead, it fell loosely over his ears, which made him look even hotter. It was matched by a five o`clock shadow and his casual outfit. Instead of a tailored suit and tie he was wearing ripped jeans and a gray vintage shirt. His tanned feet were in expensive slippers, he was barefoot, and cripes, even is feet were sexy!

Only his intense expression hadn’t changed. When he looked at her, she felt like she had died and gone to heaven. But despite the fact that he was without a doubt the most striking guy she’d ever met, it wasn’t his physical appearance that turned her knees to mush. It was the way he carried himself, his attitude to be precise. With his barely twenty years he seemed like somebody who’d seen it all and didn’t give a rat’s ass. Where did he take his assuredness, this blinding radiance that took her breath away? And that look, as if he had her all figured out. As if he knew her whole life was a lie.

She had to pull herself together not to stare at him, or to drool. When he got up from the couch and came towards her with smooth steps not letting her out of sight, she could hear her blood singing. He was taller than she thought and looked like he ate screaming villagers for breakfast.

And that was exactly what she felt, like screaming that is. Or hiding for that matter. Involuntarily, her hand moved towards her hair. She hadn’t had time to get it cut before the trip. Originally she’d intended to get a makeover after her arrival. The haircut had been only one item of many on the long list that Julie had pushed on her weeks ago. Manicure, massage, facial mask. Even a pedicure was on the roll. Thanks to Andrea Broccoli and his pal it didn’t come off.

Instead, she had to deal with her bitten-down fingernails on her own, then her bangs–with a nail scissor. It hadn’t done any good. In fact her nails still looked as if a colony of plant lice had attacked them. And after her non-existent skills as a coiffeur, her hairdo was now completely crooked.

The question of clothing style had been on Renée’s list, but the chief editor wasn’t here and Ally hadn’t exactly packed with care. In the end it came down to jeans and a t-shirt. Well, at least she had that in common with Viktor. But while he looked like a sports model, she felt as a cautionary example for anorexia and its result. The fact that she hadn’t gotten much sleep in days didn’t exactly help her appearance. All in all one couldn’t describe her entrance as glamorous. She knew it as much as Viktor, who had now reached her, extending his hand.

“Ally, how nice to finally meet you. Is it okay if I call you Ally?”

Holy hotness! His voice was pleasantly low and a bit melodic. Hypnotic. There was the tiniest hint of a Russian accent in his English and that sounded extremely sexy. She had to suppress a sigh.

When he took her icy cold hand, she almost jumped. He felt it, too. Not her shock, but the energy that had formed between them and got discharged within a fraction of a second. Just like Ally, he pulled back and starred at her in utter fascination for what felt like an eternity. A buzz went through her body, a low hum that made her feel warm inside.

He regained composure first. Before she knew it, he loosened the belt of her black knitted coat. In a flowing movement he pulled it off her shoulders and threw it at his shaven-headed bodyguard, whom he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

Wow. If he undressed all his female visitors that quickly she wasn’t surprised by all the headlines anymore. Not even she could get out of her coat that quickly.

“You’re nothing like I’d imagined.”

He had imagined her? Double wow.

On the other hand, he must be pretty disappointed. Somebody who was constantly roaming the red carpet with actresses was probably not used to a Nobody like her.

Embarrassed, she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “May I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea or…a cherry coke?”

Very funny.

“Can you get me a Latte?”

He flashed a smile, picked up the receiver and ordered a Macchiato and coffee, as well as Brioche and something she didn’t understand. Why had she chosen Spanish at school instead of French? That way she could at least have shown off something, if not her personal appearance …or not. Whatever.

She slapped herself inwardly. Jeez, she was here to work, not to impress some rich fellow who at best thought she was interesting. Like a rare butterfly species. But then again…something was odd about him, but in a good way for a change. After she recovered from his dazzling looks, a calming feeling took over, something she never experienced around people. He radiated peace she didn’t even know existed. And that coming from a person like him of all people, a greedy stock market shark, party animal and darling of the yellow press. She had expected frenzy activity, maybe even a nervous quirk, a twitching brow or something like that. An ambitious businessman who kept an eye on a half dozen monitors during their talk and looked down his nose at her. Didn’t he have to deal with a gazillion important things like buying stocks and selling real estate–or the other way around? She had imagined him sitting in a glass and chrome office, entrenched behind a desk from where he lead his empire.

But here he was, smiling and emitting this wonderful peace. If she were a cat, she’d curl into a ball and start purring.

And there was something else. On some weird level she felt as if they knew each other. Of course that was bogus, like she’d ever forget meeting him. But nevertheless…

To busy herself, she took the seat on the sofa he’d offered, pulled her iPad out and started going through her notes. Her hands were slightly shaking, so she was glad he was busy with a call. This way she could clear her thoughts. Kind of.

After he hung up, his bodyguard reappeared with a tray like a good fairy. Once food and drinks had been placed, she cleared her throat to start the interview. After all, she was representing the
Seattle Times
and all of a sudden she understood why Renée had wanted to accompany her. This wasn’t the same as writing canny little blog entries or questioning the principal of Redmond High about a student-initiated environmental project. At the moment she felt like trying on her mother’s shoes. And they were a size too big for her.

Instinctively, she straightened her back.

“So, Viktor, during my research, I found out that there is no verified biography on you. Not even on
Wiki
. How come?”

“My biography is boring,” he replied, studying her. Her cheeks flushed under his glance, while the tiny hair on her arms started to raise. Just great–how did he do that?

She bit her lower lip and decided to ignore the strange reactions to him. She had no desire to make a fool of herself. Given that her life currently was imitating a John Grisham novel  this interview was a cakewalk.

Still, the thought of doing her job gave her stability. A piece of normality in a world that had fell apart. Right now she was Ally again, member of the school newspaper and future ex-staffer of the
Seattle Times
. Or something like that. She’d been dreaming of this interview for so long, she wouldn’t give it up just because this guy had beautiful eyes. And a sultry mouth. And had she mentioned he smelled incredibly good? Of earth, mowed grass and a subtle cologne.

Gosh! She had to pull herself together and at least pretend to be professional. “Can you tell me something about you anyway? For example where you grew up?”

That’s right, keep asking questions. This way she could mask her annoying thoughts. Maybe she could also hold her breath. Without a conscious decision she’d leaned into him as if trying to sniff him. Could anyone shoot her already?

He also got closer, and her gaze automatically landed on his lips. Oh boy, they looked soft! She would have loved to extend her hand and touch them…

Get a grip!

With superhuman strength she tore her eyes from his tempting mouth only to notice that he seemed to be just as fascinated with her as she was with him.

Um, sure. Ten minutes alone in a room with him and she was already hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or both.

Whatever. The guy was absolutely stunning and she was, well, just herself. Bland, plain and absolute boring.

However, his eyes wandered across her features like a caress, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He took his time, no sign of shyness. Once more she admired his self-assuredness. She, on the other hand, was getting warmer and warmer under his inquiring eyes. Embarrassed, she noticed that she was blushing like a thirteen-year-old.

“Let’s make a deal.”

She blinked surprised.

“I’ll tell you about me and you’ll tell me something about yourself. ”

“You know, I’m here to interview you, not the other way around.”

“And how annoying would it be if you’d have to fly back empty-handed.” He leaned back and sipped his coffee while looking at her with a smug smile.

Was he blackmailing her?

“But there’s nothing to know about me.”

“The easier your part of our deal should be.” He put his cup down and leaned into her. “Though I strongly doubt that.” Too bad he didn’t clarify if he doubted her part to tell him more about herself would be easy or that there was nothing to tell about herself.

She internally groaned. What would Renée do in her place? She couldn’t possible fly back without an interview. Not after she’d swiped the tickets and exchanged them for First Class seats.

“You first,” she said quietly and leaned back. A small smile crossed his face.

“Childhood in Saint Petersburg, adolescence in Paris and London, various private schools–the usual.”

The usual? Maybe for him. “And what are you doing when you’re not knocking down millions of dollars?”

He shook his head. “Tit for tat. It’s your turn.”

Ally took a deep breath. She was new to this game, but she could gamble as well. Either way, she wouldn’t let him mock her.

“Childhood in Washington D.C. When I was six, my uncle and I moved to Seattle. No private school, high school instead. The usual when you’re normal.” Ha, take that!

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly, then he composed himself. “And what about your parents?”

“What about yours?“ she retorted. He smiled in response and she was glad that she was already sitting. His smile was made for crumbling hearts and driving girls insane.

Suddenly he became serious as if somebody had switched off the lights. “Until recently, my dad lived in Paris. My mother died when I was little. I have no memory of her.”

She was such an idiot! She had known about his mother, how could she be so dumb? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry.” He massaged his temples. “That was long ago.”

“And why is your father no longer in Paris?” She threw another glance at her notes to avoid another blunder. Oops, too late.

Sergej Iwanow had been living in the French capital for almost twenty years. There wasn’t much known about him. He was co-owner of
RosUkrEnergo
, a commercial enterprise specializing in natural gas with a dubious background that had made him filthy rich over night. His activities before founding this enterprise had been not only dubious, but downright questionable. Sergej’s name was over and over mentioned in connection with weapon transports and organized crime. Nobody in their right mind would dig deeper, especially not a seventeen year old greenhorn.

“I think it’s my turn,” Viktor said grimly looking more like a pirate than before.

Ally hid her insecurity behind the Latte glass. She hadn’t expected the interview to be so difficult. But normally, she hadn’t swallowed her tongue, acting as if she were a bloody beginner. Even worse, one that hadn’t done her homework.

She took another deep breath and, to her amazement, relaxed. When she looked up she saw Viktor piercing her with his eyes. But not like he despised her for her stupidity. His look was strangely soft. “Why do you live with your uncle?” he tenderly asked.

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t her uncle, but he probably didn’t care about the details. “My parents died when I was three. That’s why my, um, uncle took me in.” She lowered her eyes and stared at the tray without really looking. Her vision blurred, and though she was fighting it, a variety of emotions tackled her: Sadness, anger, fear and…hope.

Was she loosing it now or where were these feelings coming from all of the sudden? On the other hand, she’d barely had an opportunity to digest the events of the last forty-eight hours. When they weren’t running, they were deciphering idiotic data files, trying to bring them into logical coherence.

Now Viktor had this devastating effect on her, something, next to a thousand other things, she didn’t understand. Even though he was a stranger, he appeared oddly familiar. In his presence she felt as if she was made of glass. Transparent and vulnerable. Ever since the assault she hated being exposed, but with him it was different. His presence confused the hell out of her, just like his demeanor. It was as if he was two people in one. The player on the outside, crushing hearts for a sport, an image he cultivated for the press. But inside was a totally different person, one Viktor skillfully hid. He saw deeper than one would give him credit for. She only knew because of her skills. Did he throw himself so excessively into the Paris nightlife to numb himself just like she was popping her pills?