The Only Woman to Defy Him(3)

                That must have been his date for the night, Alina decided.

                Alina had read more than her fair share of glossy magazines and so she was pretty well versed as to Demyan’s rather decadent lifestyle.

                Or she’d thought she was!

                As Alina walked down the corridor a teary, pale blonde beauty teetered on high heels towards her. Alina could see, though she very quickly diverted her eyes, that the woman’s left breast was exposed.

                Nothing fazes you! Alina reminded herself for the hundredth time, though she was terribly tempted to simply turn tail and run.

                Just act as if you’ve seen it all before, Alina told herself.

                But she hadn’t.

                As she went to ring the doorbell to his suite her hand paused when the door opened and Alina swallowed nervously as she prepared herself to come face to face with the legend that was Demyan Zukov. Instead, it was a gorgeous redhead that stepped into Alina’s line of vision, though the woman barely gave Alina a glance as she swept her way out of the master’s chambers.

                Alina was very used to being looked straight through.

                Nondescript—she had actually heard Elizabeth describe her as that on the phone once.

                It was an asset at times, Elizabeth had assured her as Alina had sat there with cheeks flaming. Some of their clients actually asked for the most nondescript women, Elizabeth had explained, so as not to inflame jealous wives.

                Joy!

                ‘Hello!’ Alina knocked on the open door and waited. When there was no response she wondered if she should step inside or wait to be invited in. Her brief from the agency had stated that she was to arrive at eight.

                Alina glanced at her phone—it was two minutes to.

                ‘Hello!’ Alina knocked and called out again. ‘It’s Alina Ritchie from the agency...’

                Again there was no response.

                Perhaps, given his busy night, he’d overslept, Alina thought, tentatively stepping inside.

                The place was in utter chaos. There were clothes strewn everywhere as well as plates and glasses still wearing the evidence of having once been dressed with the most lavish food and drinks.

                ‘Hello!’ Alina said again, but then her panic mounted and she wondered if she was about to find him dead from his excesses in bed.

                Stop it! she cursed her overactive imagination, but really, with all the evidence to hand and with all that she had read about Demyan, it was a distinct possibility.

                She stood, trying to work out what she should do, but then she almost shot from her skin as a deep, richly accented voice came from behind her.

                ‘Good, you are here.’

                Alina swung around and braced herself—for what, she didn’t really know but the sight that greeted her certainly wasn’t on the list of possibilities that her mind had produced. Demyan might just as well have spent the night being groomed and pampered in the hotel spa to prepare for this moment. Like a beautiful phoenix rising from the ashes, he stood, looking absolutely exquisite, amidst the chaos.

                The angels must have dressed him because his attire was the closest thing to perfection Alina had ever seen—an immaculate dark suit accentuated his tall, lean frame and his shirt was so white it was gleaming, but what drew Alina’s eye wasn’t just the dark silver-grey of his tie but that it matched his eyes, when first she met them, perfectly.