Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss(13)

Panic sliced through her. He dipped his head toward hers. She ducked  under his arm and took a step away from him. He gave her a bemused look.  Frankie held up her almost empty glass. "I think I need another one of  these first."

He eyed her glass. "Another?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "It was sooo delicious. Just one more."

His generous mouth curved into a smile. "We'll make a full Russian out of you yet with that...appetite."

Her stomach did a little churn. Then relaxed as he good-naturedly held  out an arm and led the way back down the hallway to the stairs and the  ballroom below. He kept a possessive hand on her back as they wound  their way through the crowd toward the bar. Frankie searched furiously  for Harrison while he got their drinks, but the crowds were thick now,  massed on the dance floor with a strobe light passing over them. She  couldn't see him anywhere.         

     



 

Viktor came back with their drinks, handing one to her. "We should dance," he announced.

Frankie thought that might be a good idea because she really didn't need  any more to drink. She went to put the glass down on a table. Viktor  waved a hand at her. "Bring it with you."

He led her onto the dance floor, where the band was playing a slow  enough tune that they could dance and drink at the same time. She  fake-sipped the cognac as Viktor's free hand around her waist kept her  close. The champagne she'd consumed combined with the first cognac had  cast the world in an all-over rosy glow, which would have been nice  except this was a bit of a nightmare. The dance floor was packed, the  heat of hundreds of bodies was magnifying her partner's überstrong  cologne and he kept moving her closer with his free hand. She had the  feeling he was going to try and kiss her again any minute...

Goddamn you, Harrison Grant. Where are you?





CHAPTER SIX

LEONID ARISTOV WAS a solitary figure on the balcony that overlooked the  lake. His elbows rested on the marble ledge that bounded the tiny  alcove; his tall, thin body tilted forward as he studied the play of  light on the water in the moonlight.

He did not seem at all surprised when Harrison joined him at the  railing. His trademark crooked smile flashed white in the darkness. "A  Chagall fan? I had no idea."

"Always have been." Harrison rested his forearms on the ledge, mimicking the other man's stance.

"And here I thought you were above trying to impress me."

He lifted a shoulder. "Call it a gesture of good faith. I'm trying to  understand the backpedaling, Leonid. I thought we had an agreement."

A laconic smile curved the Russian's lips. "I'm like a bride on my wedding day. I'm having second thoughts."

"About the two insignificant clauses you keep tripping over?"

"I don't care about those."

"Then what?" Harrison kept his temper in check, recalling Francesca's words. "Help me to understand."

Leonid stared out at the water. "A man gets philosophical when his  life's work is crumbling at his feet. What was once important to me has  become less so."

Harrison's gaze sharpened on the Russian's craggy profile. "You've made a  few questionable decisions, Leonid. You're a brilliant businessman. You  will rise from the ashes."

"As you did." Aristov flicked him a sideways glance. "My gut tells me  this deal is not about Siberius, Harrison. It's about Anton Markovic and  your desire to make him pay. The crowning act of your ascension back to  glory."

Alarm rocketed through him. How could the Russian know? It was  impossible. Impossible. But somehow, his mind raggedly conceded, he did.

He kept his face expressionless. "Why would you think this has anything to do with Markovic? That's ancient history."

Aristov turned to him, pinning him with the full force of that  whiskey-hard gaze. "Because Markovic has become one of the most powerful  men in the world. He put your father in his grave...I would want him to  suffer." His lips twisted at the confusion in Harrison's eyes. "A few  questions to a friend in Mergers and Acquisitions at a major investment  bank and I had my answers. I know you've purchased another key supplier  of Markovic's. I put two and two together."

A red mist descended over his vision, fury mixing with a fear that froze  him solid. Heads would roll if it was discovered a banker had divulged  that type of information. But that didn't matter now... He had a way  bigger problem. Leonid and Anton Markovic did business together. If  Leonid chose to, he could blow his entire plan out of the water.

Why hadn't he done so already?

"I can't stand Markovic." Leonid answered his unspoken question. "Yes, I  do business with him but you can't always pick your dance partners. My  issue," he drawled, "is not what you choose to do to Markovic. I would  take pleasure in watching him fall. It's Siberius and your ultimate  plans for it I care about."

Relief poured through him, slackening his limbs. He lifted his shoulder  in a casual shrug. "It becomes a complementary subsidiary to Taladan  that gives Grant International access to the markets we need."

"Or it becomes extraneous. Superfluous...nonexistent." Aristov's gaze  narrowed. "The market coverage Siberius brings to the table is not  robust beyond the Slavic countries. You may choose to simply fold it  into your megalith and it becomes a distant memory."

He kept his expression neutral as Aristov read the situation with deadly  accuracy. "That market," he offered, "will become crucial in the next  decade. We can't afford not to play in it."         

     



 

Leonid trained that highly intelligent gaze of his on him with an  intensity that would have broken a lesser man. "We have something in  common, Harrison. My father built Siberius. It was the foundation for  everything that came after it. I care about the company. Maybe it's this  newfound philosophy of mine clouding my judgment. But I will not sell  it to you to have it dismantled in an act of vengeance."

A wave of conscience enveloped him. He pushed it away. This deal was not  about sentimentality. It was about watching Anton Markovic shrivel up  and die a slow death. He would not allow it to be sidelined by emotion.

"This deal is not about dismantling Siberius," he said matter-of-factly.  "It's about cutting Markovic off at the knees." If the board insisted  he absorb Siberius and its operations within Taladan and wipe out  Leonid's legacy as it surely would? Beyond his control...

Aristov turned and rested his forearms on the ledge. "I've been thinking  about what I want to be in my second coming, Grant. For you it will be  politics, I think. For me? I've been eyeing Manhattan real estate. A  couple of penthouses I've been looking at have come on the market and  they've agreed to let me see them next week. Present me with a plan for  the future of Siberius. If I like it, I'll sign it."

Harrison nodded. It would take some creative positioning but he could make it happen. "I'll have it ready."

Leonid inclined his head. His thin mouth curved in an amused smile.  "What have you done to Kaminski? He was supposed to be bringing me a  Frapin Cuvée."

"I had Francesca detain him."

Leonid threw back his head and laughed. "How utterly unfeeling of you, Grant."

"On whose part?"

"Why, Viktor's, of course. He is besotted."

* * *

Harrison entered the ballroom riding a heady victory that had the blood  in his veins pumping in a heated rush. His head felt clearer than it had  in months, his walk powerful and full of resolve as he strode through  the crowd. All of the low-grade, niggling anxieties he'd harbored  throughout Aristov's backpedaling lifted away like dark clouds chased  away by clearer skies.

Leonid Aristov had guessed his endgame and was willing to play to make  the exceedingly evil Anton Markovic pay. All that was left to do was  execute. Every piece, every backdoor would be secured when Aristov  signed, and the long wait would be over.

He procured a whiskey at the bar, leaned back against it and drank it down. Congratulations to me.

Which reminded him Francesca was likely still out there sidelining  Kaminski. She'd accepted the challenge without hesitation. She had risen  to the occasion. If he denied that turned him on he would be a liar.  The man in him loved the fact she had the courage to stand up to him,  that she wasn't afraid to tell him he was a fool. But the employer in  him took his attraction to his feisty PA off the table.

He tilted the last sip of his drink toward the light and considered its  amber depths. Francesca had a unique ability to read people-to draw them  to her with her frank, open-charm and somehow he'd known Juliana would  be no different. She had saved the day. Been his secret weapon. But he  would be equally well advised to caution himself against falling under  the spell of Francesca's seductive charm. It would be all too easy.

He took the last sip of the whiskey, put the glass down and went looking  for his PA. Francesca might have taken on her assignment with  confidence, but she was a babe in the woods when it came to dealing with  men like Kaminski.