The Russian's Tender Lover (The Sisterhood) (15 page)

He walked into the house and flipped his phone open once more. When his secretary answered, he said, “Add flea powder and dog shampoo to the list.”

He led the pack down the hallway and knocked on Darcy’s door. When there was no answer, he opened the door slightly but something was blocking the entry way. Poking his head around, he looked down at the floor and saw her, fast asleep with her head on her arms.

He stepped into the room, disturbing her as little as possible but even the door pushing her inward didn’t rouse her. He bent down, considering his options. He could leave her here on the floor, but something inside of him rebelled at that idea. She might look comfortable now, but she’d be a pack of aches once she woke up.

So instead, he did the gentlemanly thing for the first time in his life. Lifting her up, he carried her over to her bed and laid her down. He even pulled the soft, cotton blanket from the end of the bed over her legs, staring as she curled up with the new comfort. As she sighed happily in her sleep, his eyes noticed the streaks where tears had raced down her cheeks and something tightened inside of him. Why would she be crying? He hadn’t hit her, nor had he even come close.

That mystery reared its ugly head once more and he gritted his teeth against the curiosity that was starting to take over where this little woman was concerned.

Turning his back on her, he walked quickly out of the room, leaving the dogs to sniff around and find their amusements with their newest mistress.

Darcy stretched and yawned, feeling significantly better. Looking around, her mind re-oriented with her surroundings and she flopped back against the pillows. She was still here, it hadn’t been a nightmare, and she had really gone and ravenously made love to a man she barely knew, not to mention the very same man who thought she was having an affair with his sister’s fiancé and therefore needed to be kept out of the picture, besides the fact that she was madly in love with him.

What a mess!

There was nothing to it but put a brave face on things. Pretend it didn’t happen, she told herself. Sitting up, she was immediately attacked by a pack of wiggly little bodies and Darcy spent the next fifteen minutes happily playing with the little guys who had somehow managed to climb up on her bed. The momma sat next to her as well, gently staring at the activities but not participating.

“You guys need some food, I bet, huh? How about if we head to the kitchen and get you some more rice and whatever I can scrounge up, okay?”

She stopped in the bathroom and scrubbed her face, brushed her teeth and immediately felt much more presentable. It would be nice if she had some of her makeup and prettier clothes with her, but this was the best she could do.

Darcy took a deep, bracing breath before she opened the door to her room and found her way to the kitchen, going slowly so the puppies could follow. It occurred to her that the dogs hadn’t been in her room when she’d first entered it. So that meant that one of the servants must have let them in at some point. But she’d also fallen asleep on the floor. She didn’t think Adele could lift her, being an elderly woman and not very muscular despite her gritty personality. Manuel might have done it, but he wasn’t much bigger than she was.

She knew there were a couple of other people on the island she hadn’t yet met, but deep down inside, she knew exactly who had the strength to pick her up and place her on the bed. The man was the very person she was trying very hard to avoid right about now.

“Good afternoon, Adele,” she called out, poking her head into the kitchen and enjoying the warm, enticing scents wafting from the room. Again, she’d slept through a meal and was now starving. “Would you mind if I made a bit of food for myself while I get something for the dogs?”

Adele smiled brightly and waved Darcy into her domain. “Don’t worry about grabbing yourself something to eat. I’m just about to serve the appetizers. No need to fix the rice and leftovers for the dogs either. Dog food and puppy chow were delivered just after lunch today,” she said happily and pointed to the corner where a large bag of high quality dog food as well as cans of puppy food were stacked up. “Oh, how sweet of you!” Darcy said, moving swiftly to the wall so she could fix the animals a meal. “I didn’t know you could ask for things to be sent over to the island.”

“I didn’t ask anything of the sort,” she sniffed. “The dogs are Jose’s responsibility and you’re a saint to take over their care while he’s off gallivanting around wherever he is. Mr. Anchova ordered the dog food, deary.”

Darcy’s heart soared, then plummeted. That was awfully sweet of him to think of her dogs, but that also meant she would have to seek him out and thank him for being so considerate. Which seemed pretty odd to thank a man for giving her something, when he was holding her against her will on his island. Beautiful Island, she amended as she poured out a bowl for the momma, then opened cans for the puppies. Unfortunately, everything that had happened by the pool would make that speech a bit more embarrassing.

“Mr. Anchova is in the living room,” Adele replied, reaching down to pat the momma dog before she washed her hands. “I’ll bring in the appetizers in a few moments. You go ahead and I’ll watch these mischief makers for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Darcy said. “I’ll take care of them.”

Adele looked at Darcy for a long moment, then shook her head. “You go sit down. You’re too skinny to be taking care of them. And you haven’t caught up on your sleep yet.” She pulled the large steel door of the refrigerator open and disappeared for a moment before re-emerging with her arms full of ingredients. “Besides, I’m making something special tonight and I don’t allow anyone to see my secret ingredients. You’ll love it though, I promise.” With that, she dumped the ingredients on the steel counter and gently nudged Darcy through the door. “I’ll bring the dogs when I bring the appetizers so you don’t worry, okay?”

Darcy looked back at the dogs, longing to stay with them instead of face her tormentor and lover. But there was little choice, she knew. She couldn’t hide, so she’d just have to tough it out. Act like nothing out of the ordinary happened, be brave. She’d simply pretend Sergei was just another lover and treat him with polite kid gloves, and then escape as soon as was possible. It was for his protection as well as to limit her own heartache.

Stepping into the living room, she found him behind the bar, mixing several things into a large glass pitcher. “Good evening,” she said and almost flinched when his eyes pierced hers. With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked carefully over to the sofa and sat down. “What are you drinking?” she asked, just trying to break the tension.

“I’m making you a pitcher of martinis,” he said, his voice sending delicious shivers down her arms, pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Then his words hit her. “Martinis?” she asked nervously. Uh oh, she thought. Dave, her normal bar tender always secreted her “martinis” for her. This wasn’t going to be good, she thought.

“Of course. According to the tabloids, martinis are your favorite drink. A very sophisticated choice, I suppose.”

He brought a glass and the pitcher over to where she was sitting, then poured the mixture over a twist of lemon, handing her the glass.

Darcy took the glass, careful not to touch his hands in the transfer. From her experience touching him this afternoon, there was something about his contact that disturbed her too much, and transferring a large glass of liquor wouldn’t be pretty if she came into contact with him.

“Thank you,” she said softly, then sat and stared at the very full glass.

“Did I make it incorrectly? My secretary called the last nightclub you attended and asked for their recipe. Apparently you downed about ten martinis that night so I’m guessing you prefer their mixture to some of the other nightclubs.”

“Why would you say I prefer one over the other?” she asked weakly, knowing that all her martinis were plain water. She chose martinis as her “drink” because the liquor used to make them was clear, just like water, and she could down them quickly and hand the glass back so no one suspected what she was doing. Her “dates” always had the true martini so if they smelled something, it would be their drink instead of hers.

“Why don’t you try it and see if it’s correct,” he said as he tossed some ice cubes into a glass, then poured amber liquid over them.

Darcy stared, swallowing hard and wondering if she could do it. Truth was, she hated martinis. She actually hated most alcohol, except for an occasional glass of wine. Too often, she saw how alcohol changed people, and generally not for the better. They usually made fools of themselves, or even worse, became belligerent and sometimes violent.

But as she looked up at Sergei, he was watching her closely. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the glass closer. How bad could it be, really? She could enjoy a few sips of wine, why not a martini? It wasn’t like she’d have to drink the whole thing. There was a plant over in the corner, she could drink some of it, then tip the rest into the plant. Or she could sneak out to the balcony and drop the vile stuff over the side while he wasn’t watching her, or couldn’t see her hand.

Her first sip showed her exactly how flawed her plan was. As soon as the liquid hit her mouth, she felt the burning. But automatically, she swallowed, and then it hit her. Traveling down her throat, she gasped, coughing, chocking in an effort to try and alleviate the pain that was shooting down her throat. As she gasped, her eyes watered and she valiantly tried to suppress her cough, relieved when the burning eventually became a mild stinging.

Focusing through the tears in her eyes, she looked up and froze. Sergei was watching her closely, his own glass arrested halfway to his mouth as he watched her try and deal with the effects of her tiny sip of martini.

“I guess the recipe is a bit different from that other night,” she croaked, her voice still not recovered fully.

“I guess I got it wrong,” he said, but his eyes were narrowed on her face while he took a sip of his scotch.

Setting the glass carefully onto a coaster, careful not to spill any of the liquid onto the beautiful wood of the coffee table, she placed her hands carefully on her jeans clad knees. “I guess I have to be in the mood to drink martinis,” she said, grasping at anything to explain her reaction.

“Perhaps that’s it,” he replied and turned around, heading back for the bar. “Would a glass of wine be better for your mood tonight?”

Darcy bit her lower lip, wondering if it would be odd to ask for something a bit simpler. “How about a glass of that delicious fruit juice we had for breakfast this morning?

He looked back at her, one eyebrow lifting in question. “Of course,” he replied finally and reached over to the phone. “Bring some of the breakfast juice,” he said swiftly, then hung up and turned to walk back towards her. “So….you don’t drink at all, do you?” he asked.

Darcy panicked. “Of course I do. I just …don’t really feel…I mean, I’m not really in the mood…”

She stopped, knowing from the amused expression on his face that she wasn’t fooling him at all. “More clothes came with the dog food today. My assistant did a good job trying to get different outfits this time. I gave her a bit of guidance,” he said, winking as he looked down at her jeans and tee shirt. “The next set is probably more in line with your preferences.

“Thank you,’ she replied politely. “How many sets of clothes did you send over?” she asked, hoping to get an idea of how long she would be staying here.

“I believe my secretary sent over a suitcase full of clothes. Size six, correct?” he asked.

Darcy grimaced and smiled. She was actually around a size two or four most of the time. “I’m sure those will work,” she replied politely.

“Maybe Alice got them a bit smaller,” he teased. “Why do you think you need to be so small?”

She was so surprised at his question she actually laughed out loud. “Are you serious? Have you read the horrible things the tabloids say about me if I gain a couple of pounds? They suspect that I’m either pregnant, bulimic, anorexic or some other silly reason, normally having to do with some guy that dumped me and sent me to the grocery store for pints of ice cream.”

“But since you don’t date those men, and that obviously means you don’t get dumped, what makes you gain or lose weight?”

Darcy shrugged. “I only hit the clubs once or twice a month. That gives me enough time to get the weight off. It’s only a couple of pounds but it makes a big difference at times, depending on the dress style.”

“Why don’t you just exercise? Why starve yourself?”

She laughed. “I really don’t starve. I’m genuinely naturally thin, can’t you tell by my breast size?” she replied, referring to her small breasts. But when his eyes automatically moved to her chest, she turned beat red. “I didn’t mean,…I meant…” she stopped, too flustered by his heated perusal to go on. “Please, stop looking at me like that,” she begged, knowing that her breasts were hard and tingling now that his eyes had been looking at them like that.

“I like your breasts,” he said softly. “They were perfect earlier this afternoon.”

She turned her head away. “About that,” she broke out, her voice breaking on the tension. “That was a mistake and I’m not really…I mean, I didn’t mean to lead you on in any way.”