Not Just the Boss's Plaything(35)

There was nothing hard or evil-looking about Veronika, as Alicia had    half expected from what little Nikolai had said of her. Her hair    cascaded down her back in a tumble of platinum waves. She wore a copper    gown that made her slender figure look lithe and supple. Aside from  the   way she looked at Alicia, she was the picture of a certain kind of    smooth, curated, very nearly ageless beauty. The kind that, amongst    other things, cost a tremendous amount to maintain and was therefore an    advertising campaign in itself.

Alicia told herself there was no need for anxiety. She was wearing that    bold, gorgeous blue dress, alive with sequins, that had been waiting   for  her in her room. It clung to her from the top of one shoulder to   the  floor, highlighting all of her curves, sparkling with every breath,   and  until this moment she'd felt beautiful in it. Nikolai had smiled   that  sexy wolf's smile when he saw her in it, and they'd been late   coming  here tonight. Very late.

Standing with him in this castle-turned-hotel, dressed for a ball in a    gorgeous gown with the man she loved, she'd felt as if she might be the    princess in their odd little fairy tale after all.

She'd let herself forget.

"Tell me that you're not so foolish," Veronika said then, breaking the    uncomfortable silence. She sounded almost...sympathetic? It put  Alicia's   teeth on edge. "Tell me you're smart enough to see his little  games  for  what they are."

It was amazing how closely this woman's voice resembled the ones in her    head, Alicia thought then. It was almost funny, though she was  terribly   afraid that if she tried to laugh, she'd sob instead. She was  still  too  raw from last night's intensity. A bit too fragile from a  day spent  in  the aftermath of such a great storm.

She wasn't ready for this-whatever this was.

"If you want to speak to Nikolai," she said when she was certain her    tone would be perfectly even, almost blandly polite, "he's in the    ballroom. Would you like me to show you?"

"You must have asked yourself why he chose you," Veronika said    conversationally, as if this was a chat between friends. She leaned    closer to the mirror to inspect her lipstick, then turned to face    Alicia. "Look at you. So wholesome. So real. A charity worker, of all    things. Not his usual type, are you?"

She didn't actually tell Alicia to compare the two of them. She didn't    have to, as Alicia was well aware that all of Nikolai's previous women    had been some version of the one who stood in front of her now.  Slender   like whippets, ruthlessly so. Immaculately and almost  uniformly   manicured in precisely the same way, from their perfect hair  to their   tiny bodies and their extremely expensive clothes. The kind  of women   rich men always had on their arms, like interchangeable  trophies, which   was precisely how Nikolai treated them.

Hadn't Alicia told him no one would believe he was interested in her after that kind of parade?

"I can't say I have the slightest idea what his 'type' is," she lied to    Veronika. "I've never paid it as much attention as you've seemed to   do."                       
       
           



       

Veronika sighed, as if Alicia made her sad. "He's using you to tell a very specific story in the tabloids. You must know this."

Alicia told herself she didn't feel a chill trickle down her spine, that    something raw didn't bloom deep within at that neat little synopsis  of   the past few weeks of her life. She told herself that while  Veronika  was  partly right, she couldn't know about the rest of it. She  couldn't  have  any idea about the things that truly mattered. The  things that  were  only theirs.

"Or," she said, trying desperately not to sound defensive, not to give    any of herself away, "Nikolai is a famous man, and the tabloids take    pictures of him wherever he goes. No great conspiracy, no 'story.' I'm    sorry to disappoint you."

But she was lying, of course, and Veronika shook her head.

"Who do you think was the mastermind behind Ivan Korovin's numerous    career changes-from fighter to Hollywood leading man to philanthropist?"    she asked, a razor's edge beneath her seemingly casual tone, the  trace   of Russian in her voice not nearly as appealing as Nikolai's.  "What   about Nikolai himself? A soldier, then a security specialist,  now a   CEO-how do you think he manages to sell these new versions of  himself,   one after the next?"

"I don't see-"

"Nikolai is a very talented manipulator," Veronika said, with that    sympathetic note in her voice that grated more each time Alicia heard    it. "He can make you believe anything he wants you to believe." Her gaze    moved over Alicia, and then she smiled. Sadly. "He can make you fall   in  love, if that's what he needs from you."

Alicia stared back at her, at this woman who smiled as she listed off    all of Alicia's worst fears, and knew that she should have walked away    from this conversation the moment it started. The moment she'd realized    who Veronika was. Nothing good could come of this. She could already    feel that dark hopelessness curling inside of her, ready to suck her    in....

But her pride wouldn't let her leave without putting up some kind of    fight-without making it clear, somehow, that Veronika hadn't got to her.    Even if she had.

"You'll forgive me," she said, holding the other woman's gaze, "if I    don't rush to take your advice to heart. I'm afraid the spiteful ex    makes for a bit of a questionable source, don't you think?"

She was congratulating herself as she turned for the door. What mattered    was that she loved Nikolai, and what she'd seen in him last night and    today. What she knew to be true. Not the doubts and fears and  possible   outright lies this woman-

"Do you even know what this is about?"

Alicia told herself not to turn back around. Not to cede her tiny little bit of higher ground-

But her feet wouldn't listen. They stopped moving of their own accord.    She stood there, her hand on the door, and ordered herself to walk    through it.

Instead, like a fool, she turned around.

"I try not to involve myself in other people's relationships, past or    present," she said pointedly, as if the fact she hadn't left wasn't    evidence of surrender. As if the other woman wasn't aware of it. "As    it's none of my affair."

"He didn't tell you."

Veronika was enjoying herself now, clearly. She'd dropped the sympathy    routine and was now watching Alicia the way a cobra might, when it was    poised to strike.

Leave, Alicia ordered herself desperately. Now.

Because she knew that whatever Veronika was about to say, she didn't want to hear it.

"Of course he didn't tell you." Veronika picked up her jeweled clutch    and sauntered toward Alicia. "I told you, he's very manipulative. This    is how he operates."

Alicia felt much too hot, her pulse was so frantic it was almost    distracting, and there was a weight in her stomach that felt like    concrete, pinning her to the ground where she stood. Making it    impossible to move, to run, to escape whatever blow she could feel    coming.

She could only stare at Veronika, and wait.                       
       
           



       

The other woman drew close, never taking her intent gaze from Alicia's.

"Nikolai wants to know if my son is his," she said.

It was like the ground had been taken out from under her, Alicia    thought. Like she'd been dropped into a deep, black hole. She almost    couldn't grasp all the things that swirled in her then, each more    painful than the next.

Not here, she thought, fighting to keep her reaction to herself, and    failing, if that malicious gleam in Veronika's eyes was any indication.    You can't deal with this here!

She would have given anything not to ask the next question, not to give    this woman that satisfaction, but she couldn't help herself. She    couldn't stop. None of this had ever been real, and she needed to accept    that, once and for all. None of this had ever been-nor ever would    be-hers.