The Only Woman to Defy Him(4)

                No, not perfectly, Alina, decided, because colours and hues were perhaps her favourite things.

                Nothing could match his eyes—they made even the night sky seem dated. If he wasn’t so imposing, Alina could have stared into them for ever.

                ‘I’m Demyan.’

                As if she needed to be told.

                Alina took his outstretched hand and felt his long dry fingers close around hers. She caught a waft of his cologne, one that would surely mean her weekend was going to be spent in a perfume department just so that she could inhale that heady sent again—bold, clean and fresh yet with a musky undertone. She had never smelt anything quite so delicious before.

                ‘I’m Alina.’

                ‘Alina?’ Demyan gave a small frown. ‘That is a Slav name, no?’

                ‘No,’ Alina croaked. ‘Celtic...’ She could barely speak he was so stunning. Where was the crashing hangover he should be nursing? His black hair was freshly washed and brushed back and he was clean-shaven. Demyan’s skin was smooth and pale—certainly he didn’t come up all red and blotchy as Alina did if she drank so much as one glass of wine. On second brief inspection Alina saw that his dark eyes were perhaps a touch bloodshot but apart from that there was no evidence to denote a clearly wild night.

                This was his usual, this was how he lived, Alina realised as she attempted to speak on. ‘Actually, it can be both.’

                ‘Both?’ Demyan checked. He’d already lost the thread of the conversation and desperately needed the kick-start of a very strong coffee. Usually he did not leave his bed without one but, remembering that he had ordered the temporary PA to be here at eight, instead of having his coffee brought to him, Demyan had first showered and dressed for work.

                Work always came first for him.

                He had never once been late, or missed an appointment. Every facet of his life he controlled to the letter.

                Demyan was not at the top of his game by either chance or mistake.

                ‘I think it’s both Slav and Celtic. It means...’ Alina stopped herself then as she sensed his distraction. What would Demyan care about the meaning of her name? He had merely been making small talk. ‘What can I do for you?’ Alina asked instead.

                ‘Coffee.’ Demyan said. ‘A lot of it. And could you also ask that someone comes to sort the place out?’

                ‘Do you want breakfast as well?’ Alina asked, heading for the phone to ring down for room service.

                ‘I want coffee,’ Demyan said, but halted her as she went to pick up the phone. ‘Just press the bell in the butler’s kitchen.’ He frowned as she blushed and did as asked.

                She couldn’t even get an order as simple as coffee right but, though Alina had worked with a few overseas clients at hotels, she had never found herself in the presidential suite before, where a butler was just a bell press away.

                ‘Could you organise coffee and for someone to come and sort out the suite?’ Alina said, when the butler knocked and she opened the door. She bit back on her need to apologise for the terrible mess as the butler’s eyes glimpsed the chaos behind her.

                ‘Certainly.’

                Demyan gestured to her to join him at a large walnut table, where he had pushed aside an empty bottle of cognac and several glasses and was opening up his laptop.