A Virgin for His Prize(10)

“Your cousins could come to visit, couldn’t they?” Max asked, like it mattered to him.

She didn’t know why it should. Romi shrugged. “I’m not as close with them as I was when I was little.”

Not like they were to each other.

Her mother had been the youngest and all of her cousins were at least five years older than Romi. Most were married with children, all were established in careers and lives that did not lend themselves to visiting a single cousin cross country that they barely knew.

Max made a sound that in anyone else would have been a sigh. He made it seem more like a nonverbal admission. “My family turned their back on my mother because she chose to break with tradition.”

“She married an American?”

“No.”

“But Black…”

“Is not a Russian name. She changed it from Blokov when she immigrated with me. She wanted no reminder of the family who found it so easy to reject her because she lived her life differently than they wanted her to.”

“I’m sorry. She’s a pretty neat lady.”

Romi had met Natalya Black at more than one charity function she’d attended with her son. Romi had found the older Russian woman still quite beautiful and very charming.

“She is pragmatic.”

“She raised you. I imagine she is.” Romi had never known anyone as compartmentalized and rationally logical as Max.

Max quirked his brow. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

“Neither, really.” Romi grinned cheekily. “It just is.”

“Now, you sound like a proper Russian pragmatist.”

“What about your dad?” Romi asked, surprised at herself.

But she’d regretted all the questions she hadn’t asked a year ago too much to make the same mistake again.

“My mother has never named him, though I have often thought his name must be something similar to mine, as Maxwell is hardly Russian.”

“Maybe she just wanted to break away from her homeland and embrace her new life in America.”

“We emigrated when I was a year old.”

“Oh.”

He smiled, no indication the discussion hurt him. “Some things just are, right?”

“Right.” But somehow she was sure this man would never allow a child of his to grow up not even knowing his name.

They said good-night, with Max’s assertion he would see her again soon sounding more like a threat than a promise.





CHAPTER THREE

MAXWELL DRANK A glass of very good champagne and watched Romi Grayson fulfill her role as maid of honor for Madison Beck, née Archer, with her usual flair.

Adorned with a tiara every bit as ornate, if significantly smaller than Madison’s, Romi’s smooth bob of hair glistened in a fall of black silk around her face. Large but tasteful diamonds in a classic setting twinkled in her earlobes. She wore no other jewelry with the designer silk gown of blue that exactly matched her pretty eyes and was cut to complement Madison’s 1950s vintage gown.

Romi flicked a look at him and he made no effort to hide the fact he watched her. Pleasure zinged through him at the blush that tinted her cheeks.

She looked away, but her azure gaze returned to meet his almost immediately.

He let one eyelid slide closed in a slow wink, allowing his lips to almost tilt into a smile.

The blush darkened and he could see the breath she took. Imagining he could hear the soft gasp of air that followed, he started across the room toward her.

A hand landed on his arm and he barely broke stride to shake his head decisively at a woman he’d flirted with previously on a couple of occasions. The sister of a man who owned one of the major companies in Silicon Valley, she was a contact worth cultivating.

But not right now.

Romi had not moved so much as an inch since he’d started toward her, waiting as if she stood inside a bubble of her own.

No one approached her when she’d spent the last hours talking to everyone. But there was something ethereal about her in that moment and Maxwell knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it.

He stopped in front of her, his hand out. “Dance with me.”

This time he heard the small catch of air. “I…”

“You know you want to.”

“We don’t always want what is best for us.”

He shook his head, not buying it. “No word games right now, Romi. Just dance with me.”

“You are demanding.”

He shrugged and pulled her into his arms, not surprised when she didn’t object and not even a little shocked when her body unhesitatingly molded to his. They reacted to each other in a physical way that was almost mystical.

If he believed in that sort of thing.

The music was slow and he pulled her body close into the shelter of his own so they could move together in a special kind of intimacy.