Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) (25 page)

A roll of thunder made them both stop and turn to look out to sea. Lightning flickered on the horizon and the breeze had picked up. Vlad watched the sky with an anxious pinch to his brow. Hannah caught his face in her hands and kissed him once more. “Let’s go back to my room.”

Quickly, they gathered up the picnic things and returned to the boat. Lightning flashed and thunder sounded closer, as they sped back to the resort. Vlad was quiet, focused on his driving, yet from time to time he reached over to touch her, anticipating the pleasures to come. After they passed safely through the red-and-green lights at the harbor entrance, he cut the engine and paddled the final distance to the dock. He looped the mooring line over a vacant post, then sat down and kissed her once more. “Hannah...”

Suddenly, bright light surrounded them. Hannah blinked and shielded her eyes. Vlad did the same, unsure of what was happening. Had the storm reached them and lightning struck? Heart racing, he turned toward the dock. There stood a film crew, and in the middle was Cody deWylde. The host’s face contorted into a sharklike smile.

“Surprise!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hannah squinted into the glare that flooded the boat and dock. She could see no farther than the long lens of the camera that bore down on them. Frozen in place, her mind raced with a dozen panicked questions. Cody leered, his face bright with malicious glee. “I’d never have believed it without seeing it with my own eyes, but here it is. Little Hannah and Vlad the Bad.”

She had a crazy thought of escaping with Vlad to open water, but with a storm approaching, that was madness. Vlad scrambled from the boat, turning to help her over the side. On the dock, they were snared in a pool of bright light. He put a protective arm around her and shouted at the crew. “Out of our way. Let us pass.”

DeWylde wagged his finger. “Vlad, Vlad. You’ve betrayed Tammy, and now you’re trying to hurt Hannah, too. And Hannah, don’t you see him for what he is? A cheap opportunist who preys on gullible women. To him you’re nothing but a toy, and once playtime is over, he’ll move on.” He shoved the mike in her face. “Tell us how you feel right now.”

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Overwhelmed by rage, at all they’d done to Vlad and to her, she choked on her words. “Feel? You want to know how I feel?”

Vlad stepped forward, so that she had to look directly at him. “I swear I didn’t set you up. I don’t know how they found us, but I would give my life before I ever hurt you.”

Cody chuckled. “Methinks he doth protest too much. What say you, Hannah? I can only imagine what this must be like. You’ve been used. Betrayed. Tell us what you’re feeling.”

His false concern and smug deceit pushed her over the edge. “How do you think I feel, you son of a bitch? You’ve done nothing but turn us into jokes. We’re not people to you, only characters you made up. And no matter what we say, you’ll just cut and paste together whatever suits you.”

She and Vlad pushed past the crew and hurried up the dock, toward the beach. Halfway across the sand, she looked back. Though the crew was slowed by the weight of their equipment, they weren’t far behind. “We have to split up,” she said. “They can’t follow us both.”

He let go of her hand. “You go. Run fast, while I distract them.”

“No, I can’t let you—”

He grasped her shoulders and silenced her protest with a kiss. “Go.”

She went, dashing for the hotel, while Vlad remained on the sand as the crew closed in. The wind rose, and the first drops of rain splattered down, cold and heavy on her face and arms. When she reached the terrace, she turned back to see him sprinting toward the Team Red entrance, Cody and the crew in hot pursuit.

Hannah forced herself to appear calm as she crossed the terrace and entered the hotel. The little bar at the rear of the lobby was crowded, but no one paid attention as she passed. They must not yet know what was going on, though soon enough they would. She had to get to her room before the film crew did, so she bypassed the elevator and took the stairs to the second floor. The coast still clear, she raced down the empty corridor to the refuge of her room.

Behind closed doors, she turned the lock and put the chain on, then barricaded it with a chair for good measure. Outside, the storm had grown stronger, which meant they wouldn’t scale the tree beside her balcony and come in through the sliding glass door. She bolted it anyway. Safe for the moment, she collapsed onto the bed where she and Vlad should have been making love and buried her face in her hands.

What stood between them was far more complicated than her relationship with Jack. Though she was consumed with fury at the vultures who exploited him, and ached to bring him comfort, nothing she could say or do felt adequate. As if there weren’t enough differences between them already, the scars left by the International Review seemed insurmountable.

She was torn between a man she’d loved half her life, and one she hardly knew at all. Between one with a bright future and one with a shameful history. Between one who had betrayed her...and one who loved her. Just as she loved him.

Could it be true? Could she trust her feelings? Even though she’d known Vlad only a few weeks, in a place far removed from any semblance of reality, the emptiness she felt without him provided the answer.

She’d been prepared to forgive Jack for luring her on to
Last Fling
and betraying her with Robynne Lovejoy. How was Vlad any less deserving of a second chance? He’d bartered sex for his freedom, and by definition, it was clear what that made him, though Hannah found it impossible to see it that way. He had been alone, and yes, abused, and had done his best to survive and escape. A young woman in that situation would have garnered all of her understanding. There was no way she could give any less to him. And if her love for Vlad was real, that meant everything had to change.

She went to the closet, and opened the small safe where she’d stored her engagement ring. She sat on the bed and turned it over in her fingers.
Last Fling
had made her question so much. Though she didn’t have all of the answers, she knew that for better or worse, life couldn’t return to the way it was before.

A loud pounding on the door made her jump. Cody deWylde shouted from the hallway. “Hannah! Let us in. We want to talk with you!”

She sat still, afraid to move, when she heard another sound coming from the balcony. Vlad dropped from an overhanging tree branch and lifted his hand to knock on the door.

The wonderful sight brought a surge of adrenaline, and she fought the urge to throw open the door, drag Vlad inside and kiss every inch of him. Instead, she pressed one finger to her lips, and pointed toward the door of her room, signaling that deWylde and the crew were in the corridor. Vlad nodded, and took what shelter he could under the balcony above hers, as thunder crashed and the rain splattered down. If the crew didn’t leave soon, he would be drenched, or worse, leave. But he stayed. Twenty agonizing minutes later came the murmurs and retreating footsteps of the film crew. Finally, she rose from the bed and walked with careful steps to the door.

The moment he stepped into the room, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, not caring about his wet clothes. He brought her close and rubbed her back, while he murmured against the crown of her hair. “Hannah...
moya lyubov, moy angel...”
She closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the exotic sound of his voice. The soft Russian words he murmured in her ear and her own raging desire were a heady combination. Then he lifted her chin and brushed his lips across hers. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you one more time.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his. There, she saw the man Vlad really was, a damaged survivor with a noble heart, who longed to know the joy of true love. She could give him that. Hannah crushed her lips to his mouth, and he responded, stroking his tongue back and forth, teasing and dancing with hers. She molded her body against him, aware of every sense. And his kiss...oh his kiss. Never had she known another like it. She felt powerful and desired. The woman she’d always longed to be had come alive.

He ran his palms up her sides and over her breasts. Her nipples tightened at his touch and she let her head drop back, as he planted a string of featherlight kisses along her neck, the curve of her shoulder and the swells revealed by her low-cut dress. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gazed into her eyes. It looked as if he was about to speak, and whatever he wanted to say, she longed to hear it.

There was something she wanted to tell him, too.

Then the moment passed. He lifted her, and she curved against him, her breasts crushed against the hard contours of his chest. He shifted his gaze to the bed.

“Yes,” she whispered, against his neck. “Oh, yes.”

He moved toward the bed, stopping to taste her mouth again. She writhed against him, flushed with heat that seemed to burn through her clothes, anticipating the moment he removed them, piece by piece. “Hannah...” He took another step forward, then froze as a loud knock sounded at the door. This time, Jack’s slurred voice came from the other side.

“Hannaaah! Hannaaaah!”

She tensed and tightened her arms around Vlad, as if Jack might break the chain and dead bolt and barge in. He pounded again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry. About Robynne. About everything. I fucked up so bad! I love you, Hannah. Please, talk to me! I want another chance.” Jack’s voice was thick with alcohol and despair.

Hannah stared at the door and felt Vlad catch his breath. Slowly, quietly, he set her down, and touched her back, urging her forward.

She turned back. “He doesn’t mean it,” she whispered, but there was doubt in her voice.

Outside, Jack’s voice was softer now, defeated. “I don’t blame you for not answering. I’ve been such a shit. I know I don’t deserve it. But if you can hear me, know that I’m sorry.”

They heard Jack walk away. When the corridor was silent again, Vlad took her hands. “I saw him tonight, drinking alone and staring out at the dark. He looked like a man burdened with regret. Someone who finally sees what he could lose, and is ready to be the man you deserve.”

“He treated me terribly. He betrayed me.”

“But people can change. If I were in his shoes, I would give my right arm for another chance.” Vlad’s gaze shifted toward the bureau, where her engagement ring lay beside a wadded tissue. Tears flooded her vision, but she blinked them away. He reached for the ring. The diamond sparkled in the low light, as he slipped it back onto her left hand. As before, it was a perfect fit.

A lump rose in her throat, as she realized this was the closest he would ever come to placing a ring on her finger. She let go a choking sob. “Vlad, I wish—”

“Don’t wish, my love. Be happy.” He traced his knuckle along the curve of her jaw. “You know where you belong, and I know where I belong. Jack is the man you’ve loved your whole life. I promised I would respect that. This is the right thing, Hannah.” He brushed his lips across her cheekbone, and when kissed her again, she tasted her own salty tears. “Goodbye.”

He left the way he’d come in, heading back out into the storm.

* * *

Late the following afternoon, alone in his room, Vlad paced the floor.

All day, he had been sequestered, under orders from the show. An assistant director came to brief him on what would happen tonight. The makeup people had come and gone. His dinner sat untouched on a room service cart. He once read a story about a condemned man who spent the day of his execution locked in a room adjacent to the death chamber, where he contemplated his fate.

Soon, it would be time for Vlad to meet his.

Beside the door were two suitcases. The large one held most of his belongings; the small one only what he would need for one night. If Tammy chose someone else as her Final Fling—something he desperately hoped would happen—after tonight’s taping, he and his bags would be dispatched to a waiting van, bound for the San Juan airport. If he was the fling, he would be flown on a private jet to an undisclosed location—a brief detour, before he was spit out, back into real life.

As he’d done too often these agonizing hours, he fingered the bare skin at his throat where his crucifix used to lie. He wouldn’t have been allowed to wear it tonight, but when he packed to leave, he discovered it missing. He thought he wore it last night, but couldn’t be sure. He’d had it since his days with the International Review, when he found it on the floor of a changing room and picked it up, thinking it belonged to one of the other dancers. Turned out it didn’t, so he’d kept it, and found it brought him comfort.

Now, like so many other things he loved, it was gone.

By now, Hannah had very likely reconciled with Jack and in a few days, she’d put
Last Fling
behind her. She hadn’t asked for any of this. Not this show. Not the drama of Jack and Robynne, or to have an affair with a Miami stripper who had no place in her life.

Just as she had no place in his.

There was the painful reality of it. Whatever vague notions he’d entertained about changing, in a few days he would be back in Florida, back at The Male Room, back to the parties and casual hookups. Back to living in the moment, because the future was nowhere near as bright. Hannah did have a bright future, and he wouldn’t steal that from her.

Someone knocked at the door. Vlad glanced at the clock beside the bed. Six forty-five. The final elimination shoot began in fifteen minutes. He answered the door to find two production assistants waiting in the hall. “It’s time, Vlad.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

In the studio, Cody deWylde was getting a last-minute check from the makeup crew. The big screens behind the stage were ready to roll video. Of what, Vlad didn’t know, and throughout the tortuous day, he wondered what they might do with the film of him and Hannah on the dock.

The PAs directed Vlad to the Team Red couch. Hannah was in her usual seat with her flings on the Team Blue side. She seemed determined not to look at him, and he would not embarrass her by trying to catch her eye. Jack sat on the blue couch with Cristal, Gina, Kirstin and Robynne, but seemed more subdued than usual.

Moments later, the lights went down, the theme song played and Cody deWylde took center stage.

His monologue recapped the season, and Vlad held his breath as the screens showed highlights from the previous weeks. There was footage of volleyball games, of luaus, of double dates and the talent contest. His eyes stung as he watched Hannah’s tap dance. Then Cody brought Jack and Hannah up onstage.

“Jack, you’ve spent these past weeks getting to know the beautiful ladies you invited here. I know it’s tough, but can you tell us who really doesn’t do it for you? Who looks hot, but really is not?” DeWylde chuckled at his witty turn of phrase.

Vlad tensed, hoping and dreading that Jack might declare his true love was Hannah and that no fling could possibly measure up. Instead, Jack merely smiled and answered Cody’s question.

“I sure can. Even though most guys would kill for a night with her, Cristal and I just never seemed to connect.”

With a loud sigh of disappointment, Cristal stalked up to the stage. “Yeah, well. Jack didn’t exactly ring my bell either,” she said into Cody’s microphone, before going to stand at the back of the stage, where the rejects had been told to line up.