The Russian's Tender Lover (The Sisterhood) (6 page)

“You’re right on time for dinner,” a deep voice said to her right.

Darcy spun around, the lopsided, messed up bun she’d pulled her hair into earlier now flopping in her face as she tried to find the source of her animosity. “You!”

“Yes, me,” he replied, saluting her with a glass of rich, red wine. “Adele has prepared a wonderful smelling dinner. Would you care to join me?” he asked.

“I’d rather starve,” she spat out. “You have to let me go!”

“I do?”

“Yes! This is ridiculous. I didn’t do anything to your sister’s fiancé so why are you holding me here?”

He moved to a side table where small plates of appetizers were already set up. Picking up a cracker with something brightly colored sitting on top of it, he said, “So you say. But the man has professed his love of you. I’m guessing there must have been more than a passing conversation between the two of you.”

The smells coming from the patio were making Darcy’s mouth water. She desperately wanted to turn up her nose at the dinner, but she was just too hungry. And thirsty.

“Don’t you want to starve me so that I’m more acquiescent?” she asked sarcastically.

He stood up to hold her chair out for her, smiling slightly. “Apparently not.”

Darcy took the offered chair, sighing with resignation. “I don’t understand this situation.”

Sergei took the seat opposite, the evening breeze lifting the fringe on the table’s canopy, making the palm leaves dance. It felt wonderful and Darcy lifted her hair to catch more of the cooling breeze as she lifted her ice water, drinking down almost the entire glass.

“What’s to understand? You’re here until I can find my future weasel brother in law. Why not enjoy your stay?”

He nodded his head to allow the serving staff to begin. Wine was poured and plates immediately set in front of both of them, then the staff disappeared, leaving them alone with the distant sounds of classical music in the background mixing with the waves crashing against the shore and the emerging night sounds.

Darcy could ignore the wine, but she couldn’t ignore the food. She was simply too hungry. “Who is your sister?”

Sergei stopped reading the report he’d picked up and looked across the table at the woman who was still irritatingly lovely despite the smudges of dirt on her cheeks and arms. “You don’t know who I am?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “Besides some pompous jerk who thinks he’s above the law, I have no idea who you are.”

“You’ve never heard of the Anchova name?”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “I don’t think so. Should I?” She looked around at the surroundings. “You’re obviously wealthy, but so are a lot of people. I’m guessing you’re more notable than others, right?” She took a bite of the delicately seasoned fish, loving the wonderful tastes. There was a perfect mango salsa that went with it and several odd vegetables that were more flavorful than anything she’d tried before.

“Apparently I’m not that notable,” he replied derisively.

“Wait a minute. Are you the guy who bought out that major grocery store chain last year?” she asked.

“Among other things,” he said, then picked up his wine glass.

“What other things?”

“I’m guessing you don’t read the business section very often, do you?”

“I try not to. It’s a bit depressing.”

“What do you do with all of your money?”

Darcy definitely wasn’t going to give away that kind of information. “Oh, this and that,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “You know how it goes. There’s always something,” she said, thinking of the old water heater that’s about to rust off its hinges and the decrepit heater that only cranks out heat when it’s in a good mood or during the summer on ninety degree days. And it was rarely in a good mood lately. Sweaters and extra blankets were the norm over the past few months.

“Doesn’t sound like a very good investment strategy,” he said, with obvious disgust.

She shrugged away his criticism. “Some of us have priorities other than investments and buying up the world.”

“I guess your strategy is what keeps the markets healthy.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I guess it keeps some portions of the population healthy,” she replied, thinking of Fred and Ginger who could eat an entire bag of dog food in one sitting if left alone or Molly who patiently waited for the other two to finish before gobbling down her own bowl of food. The kittens lost just as many meals as they gained because of the other three. And Moxie. Suddenly she was sad because she wasn’t home to help Moxie’s recovery who needed a soft, gentle hand to guide her back to trusting people again.

“What just happened?” Sergei asked sharply.

Darcy’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“You were smiling a moment ago, and all of a sudden you looked like you’d just lost your best friend. What were you thinking a moment ago?”

Darcy popped the last bit of fish into her mouth and shook her head. “For the moment, you’re keeping me hostage here, for reasons that only you understand and won’t thoroughly explain to me, since you obviously think I know what you’re talking about. But you can’t own my thoughts.” She stood up and pushed her chair back under the table carefully.

Turning to the servant hovering by the door, she smiled politely. “Dinner was delicious. Would you convey my compliments to the chef? She did an outstanding job with the fish and vegetables.”

The white coated servant bowed and nodded his head, then Darcy skipped away, eager to be away from Sergei’s disapproving tone and ominous expressions. She really tried to find something to like about everyone, but that man was just irritating and obnoxious, not to mention horribly rude and arrogant.

Sergei knew he should be a gentleman and not watch her hips sway as she stormed away, but the soft sway of her hips drew his eyes like a magnet and he was astounded at how much her walk turned him on. It wasn’t outrageously sensual. In fact, it was almost as if she went out of her way to not move any part of her body, so the cute little derriere that swayed ever so slightly was eye catching.

He had always considered himself to be a connoisseur of women, loving all their parts and enjoying their company. But he’d thought he had higher standards, having absolutely no patience with anyone who did drugs or over imbibed. This woman seemed to be the one exception to that rule. His body obviously didn’t care that his mind was repulsed by her personality and morals. His body was fascinated by her figure, the ethereal quality and delicate bone structure that made her both exotic and, at the same time, ethereal and unobtainable; attributes he would have thought were opposites but in her, they seemed to mesh perfectly. He wouldn’t do anything about this attraction though. He had more control over his body than a raging teenager and wouldn’t give into the primal feelings her walk, her soft voice and her slender figure engendered.

Darcy found her way to the room she’d been shown to earlier and instantly peeled off her jeans and tee shirt, carrying them into the bathroom with her. Turning on the water, she ducked under the soothing spray of the shower, instantly feeling better as the warm water eased the tension in her shoulders and back. She cleaned her hair with the available shampoo and luxuriated in the soft, rose scented soap, scrubbing away all the dirt, grime, sweat and makeup that had accumulated over the horrible day.

Once she felt clean, she pulled on the only other tee shirt she had, then proceeded to wash out her clothes, hanging them to dry on the shower doors. Hopefully she would have something dry by the morning, but the humidity might not cooperate.

Thankfully, there was a white, fluffy robe on the back of the door and she slipped her arms into the inviting material, feeling better now that she wasn’t so vulnerable as she slipped out of her room and walked down the now silent hallway.

Pulling the belt tighter, she worked her way through the rooms, one by one, opening the doors and peeking inside. She finally found the room she was hoping to uncover, although she’d just about given up faith since this was one of the last on the hallway.

When she finally opened the door and discovered the two story library, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. There were so many volumes in categories she’d always wanted to read about but had never found the time. She couldn’t use that excuse now, she thought as her fingers ran along the leather spines, touching each with a loving caress as she considered all the possibilities.

Coming to the fiction section, she discovered an original version of Les Miserables and was so excited she almost jumped up and down. Taking the book off the shelf, she carried it hurriedly back to her bedroom, eager to dive into the complex tug of war between Jean Valjean and Javert.

Darcy looked at the clock around midnight and thought about turning off the light and getting some sleep. But she was too caught up in the story and besides, she didn’t think her prison master, as she was now referring to Sergei, would do much to release her tomorrow. So she knew she could sleep in as late as she needed in the morning.

Her eyes drooped of their own accord about two in the morning and she was curled up on top of the book when Sergei roused her for breakfast at nine the next morning.

“You must eat,” was all he said but with a gentle shake of her shoulder.

Darcy sat up and looked around. “I do?” she asked, still not sure where she was or why she could so easily move her legs, since she normally woke up with a dog on both sides, curled up against her as tightly as they could and kittens balancing on her hip. “Why?”

Sergei watched as the sleeping beauty stretched, unmindful of the white terry robe she was wearing as it slid open slightly, giving him a glimpse of the soft side of her breast. “Because you’re too thin,” he replied in a gruff voice, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. “Be at the table in fifteen minutes, or I’ll come back to see if you’ve fallen back to sleep.”

Darcy sat up in bed and tried to re-orient herself. Looking down, she realized that the book was poking her in her side. Rescuing the precious volume from the bedclothes, she carefully placed it under the pillow. She didn’t want anyone to know that she’d been reading the book, afraid word might get out to the paparazzi. She had enough trouble with them already, she didn’t want them thinking anything she didn’t purposely put into their unimaginative minds. She needed them directed exactly according to plan and Victor Hugo was definitely not good gossip for her image.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, considered putting make up on once again, then decided against it. If the servants gossiped about her bare face, she would just be prepared. And since they were on an island, she probably wouldn’t be photographed without makeup.

Strolling back out to the patio in the now clean and dry tee shirt and jeans, she endured Sergei’s critical perusal as if she were used to men watching her. But she didn’t like it, unused to not having her camouflage on. Her makeup and clothes provided a sort of shield in her mind. When men looked at her, she knew they were seeing what she wanted them to see. This morning though, she had tied her hair back in a pony tail, wasn’t wearing any makeup and was in her comfortable jeans and tee shirt. She had no mask, this was the real her and she felt extremely exposed as he watched her cross over the stone patio and sit down across from him.

Immediately, a glass of juice was placed in front of her and she smiled her gratitude as she lifted it up, hiding part of her face from his eyes, wondering if he could read her mind with those intense, black eyes.

“You look different,” was all he said initially.

Darcy shrugged, trying to appear casual. “I’m not apologizing.”

“You shouldn’t. You look much better without the caked on makeup.”

Her eyes shot up to his, startled, then cynical. “Sure I do.” She pulled the bowl of fruit closer and stuck the first juicy morsel with her fork a bit too harshly.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” he asked, tossing the papers he’d been reviewing onto the table beside his plate.

“I know what I look like with makeup on and without it. And there’s a huge difference.”

“I agree.”

She looked at him, seeing the male appreciation in his eyes and her heart started up a painful rhythm. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“I’m fine. Why were you up so late last night?”

She concentrated on her fruit, although she could barely taste the succulent pieces since she was too anxious about the fact that he knew she’d been up late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a lights out. If you’ll give me a deadline, I’ll ensure to break it again tonight.”

He chuckled and Darcy’s skin felt warm, almost hot from the sound. “I’m sure you will.”

“What are you going to do today?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Check in with my investigators to see if they’ve made any progress on finding that stupid fiancé of my sister’s for starters.”

“And?”

“And then I have other work to do.”