Not Just the Boss's Plaything(30)

It swelled between them, bright and hot and more complicated now, that    electric connection that had shocked her in that club. It was so much    deeper tonight. It poured into every part of her, changing her as it    went, making her realize she didn't care what the consequences were any    longer. They'd be worth it. Anything would be worth it if it meant she    could touch him again.

She couldn't find the words to tell him that, so she smiled instead,    letting it all flow out of her. Like a weapon, he'd said. Like candy.

Like love.

Nikolai jerked almost imperceptibly, as if he saw what she thought, what    she felt, written all over her. As if she'd said it out loud when she    hardly dared think it.

"Alicia-" he began, his tone deeper than usual, urgent and thick, and    all of her confusion and wariness rolled into the place where she'd torn    in two, then swelled into that ache, making it bloom, making her    realize she finally knew what it was....                       
       
           



       

But then the energy in the suite all around them shifted. Dramatically.    There was a moment of shocked silence, then an excited buzz of    whispering.

Nikolai's gaze left hers and cut to the entryway, and then, without    seeming to move at all, he froze solid. She watched him do it, saw him    turn from flesh and blood to ice in a single breath.

It was the first time he'd scared her.

Alicia turned to see the crowd parting before a graceful woman in a    deceptively simple black dress, flanked by two security guards. She was    cool and aristocratic as she walked into the room, smiling and    exchanging greetings with the people she passed. Her dark red hair was    swept back into an elegant chignon, she wore no adornment besides a  hint   of diamonds at her ears and the sparkle of the ring on her hand,  and   still, she captivated the room.

And had turned Nikolai to stone.

Alicia recognized her at once, of course.

"Isn't that...?"

"My brother's wife. Yes."

Nikolai's tone was brutal. Alicia flicked a worried glance at him, then looked back to the party.

Miranda Sweet, wife of the legendary Ivan Korovin and easily    identifiable to anyone with access to Rosie's unapologetic subscription    to celebrity magazines, swept through the assembled collection of   donors  with ease. She said a word or two here, laughed there and only   faltered  when her gaze fell on Nikolai. But she recovered almost   instantly,  squaring her shoulders and waving off her security detail,   and made her  way toward him.

She stopped when she was a few feet away. Keeping a safe distance,    Alicia thought, her eyes narrowing. Miranda Sweet was prettier in    person, and taller, and the way she looked at Nikolai was painful.

While Nikolai might as well have been a glacier.

Alicia could have choked on the thick, black tension that rose between    the two of them, so harsh it made her ears ring. So intense she glanced    around to see if anyone else had noticed, but Miranda's security  guards   had blocked them off from prying eyes.

When she looked back, Nikolai and his brother's wife were still locked    in their silent battle. Alicia moved closer to Nikolai's side, battling    the urge to step in front of him and protect him from this threat,    however unlikely the source.

Then, very deliberately, Nikolai dropped his gaze. Alicia followed it to    the small swell of Miranda's belly, almost entirely concealed by her    dress. Alicia never would have seen it. She doubted anyone was  supposed   to see it.

When Nikolai raised his gaze to his sister-in-law's again, his eyes were    raw and cold. Alicia saw Miranda swallow. Hard. Nervously, even.

Another terrible moment passed.

Then Miranda inclined her head slightly. "Nikolai."

"Miranda," he replied, in the same tone, so crisp and hard and civil it hurt.

Miranda glanced at Alicia, then back at Nikolai, and something moved across her face.

Fear, Alicia thought, confused. She's afraid of him.

Miranda hid it almost immediately, though her hand moved to brush    against her belly, her ring catching the light. She dropped her hand    when she saw Nikolai glance at it.

"He misses you," she said after a moment, obvious conflict and a deep    sadness Alicia didn't understand in her voice. "You broke his heart."

"Are you his emissary?"

"Hardly." Miranda looked at Nikolai as if she expected a reply, but he    was nothing but ice. "He would never admit that. He'd hate that I said    anything."

"Then why did you?" Cold and hard, and Alicia thought it must hurt him to sound like that. To be that terribly frigid.

Miranda nodded again, a sharp jerk of her head. Her gaze moved to Alicia    for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, but thought better  of   it. And then she turned and walked away without another word, her   smile  in place as if it had never left her.

While Alicia stood next to Nikolai and hurt for him, hard and deep, and all the things he didn't-couldn't-say.

"I take it you weren't expecting her," she said after a while, still    watching Miranda Sweet work the party, marveling at how carefree she    looked when she'd left a wind chill and subzero temperatures in her    wake.                       
       
           



       

"I should have." Nikolai's gaze was trained on the crowd, dark and    stormy. "She often makes appearances at high-level donor events when    Ivan is held up somewhere else. It helps bring that little bit of    Hollywood sparkle."

He sounded as if he was reporting on something he'd read a long time    ago, distant and emotionless, but Alicia knew better. She felt the waves    of that bitter chill coming off him, like arctic winds. This was    Nikolai in pain. She could feel it inside her own chest, like a vise.

"A bit of a chilly reunion         , I couldn't help but notice."

Nikolai shifted. "She believes I tried to ruin her relationship with Ivan."

Alicia frowned up at him. "Why would she think that?"

It took Nikolai a breath to look down, to meet her eyes. When he did,    his gaze was the coldest she'd ever seen it, and her heart lurched in    her chest.

"Because I did."

She blinked, but didn't otherwise move. "Why?"

A great black shadow fell over him then, leaving him hollow at the eyes    and that hard mouth of his too grim. Grief, she thought. And something    very much like shame, only sharper. Colder.

"Why do I do anything?" he asked softly. Terribly. "Because happiness    looks like the enemy to me. When I see it I try to kill it."

Alicia only stared at him, stricken. Nikolai's mouth tugged in one    corner, a self-deprecating almost smile that this time was nothing but    dark and painful. Total devastation in that one small curve.

"You should be afraid of me, Alicia," he said, and the bleak finality in his voice broke her in two. "I keep warning you."

He turned back to the crowd.

And Alicia followed an instinct she didn't fully understand, that had    something to do with that deep ache, that wide-open canyon in her chest    she didn't think would ever go away, and the proud, still way he stood    next to her, ruthlessly rigid and straight, as if bracing himself for    another blow.

Like that brave boy he must have been a lifetime ago, who was never safe. Or lucky. Who had given up all hope.

She couldn't bear it.

Alicia reached over and slid her hand into his, as if it belonged there.    As if they fitted together like a puzzle, and she was clicking the   last  piece into place.

She felt him flinch, but then, slowly-almost cautiously-his long fingers closed over hers.

And then she held on to him with all of her might.

* * *

Nikolai hadn't expected Alicia to be quite so good at this, to fill her    role so seamlessly tonight, as if she'd been born to play the part of    his hostess. As if she belonged right there at his side, the limb he    hadn't realized he'd been missing all along, instead of merely the tool    he'd planned to use and then discard.

He stood across the room, watching from a distance as she charmed the    two men she'd thought might break into a fight earlier. She was like a    brilliant sunbeam in the middle of this dark and cold winter's night,    outshining his wealthiest donors in all their finery even here, in a    luxurious hotel suite in a city renowned for its gleaming, golden,    incomparable light.