Читать книгу Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 71

LONDON was beautiful in the snow, especially Hyde Park with all its trees and open expanses. Though it was dark, the snow made everything bright and fresh. Veronica knew that it wouldn’t necessarily look so pristine during the day when all the warts and blemishes of humanity shone through.

But for now, she could enjoy it as her limousine crawled its way toward Mayfair and the exclusive party she’d been invited to there.

Tonight, she hoped to persuade Giancarlo Zarella, the Italian hotel baron, to bring one of his exclusive resorts to Aliz. Where Giancarlo went, others would follow.

But rather than concentrating on the Italian and going over the information about him that she’d been given, she kept thinking of Raj. She had not seen him since this morning.

He’d shaken her awake early, telling her they had to put the bed away before her secretary arrived with the morning dispatches. She’d been bleary-eyed, but she’d obeyed.

Or, rather, she’d mostly watched while Raj fixed everything. Then he led her into the bedroom and told her to climb into the bed. In the gray light of morning, the bed hadn’t looked so frightening. She’d complied, falling asleep immediately.

When she’d awakened a second time—with a hotel maid delivering her breakfast tray and Martine standing stoically near—Raj was gone. Brady arrived a bit later, and once she’d answered her dispatches and sent Martine on an errand, she’d quizzed Brady.

Raj Vala was not simply a bodyguard. He was self-made, the owner of Vala Security International, a very successful firm that provided elite corporate and internet security.

According to Brady, Raj was a loner. And he was every bit as hard and ruthless as she’d thought he would be, with a military Special Forces background and the drive to be the best in everything he did.

Raj, Brady assured her, would make sure she was completely protected from harm.

After last night, she tended to believe it. She took her phone from her purse and checked her text messages. She would not ever be caught without a personal phone again.

The text from Raj was still there, still brief and to the point: he would meet her at the party. She smoothed a hand down the sleek ice-blue Vera Wang dress she wore. It was strapless, slit up one side, and shimmered as if it had been sewn with millions of tiny lights.

She told herself she’d chosen it to appeal to Signor Zarella, but the truth was she’d been thinking of Raj. Her hair was tousled and long, flowing artfully around her face and over her shoulders. She checked her makeup in the small mirror she’d tucked into her purse and breathed deeply to control the racing of her heart.

It wasn’t like her to be nervous. She’d always loved parties, always loved getting dressed up and going out with other people who laughed and talked and helped her feel as if she were catching up on everything she’d missed growing up.

Except that now, part of her wished she could be anywhere but here. The thought of mingling with yet another crowd failed to cheer her the way it once would have.

The limo arrived at the Witherstons’ grand Georgian town house, and Veronica deliberately turned her thoughts to Giancarlo Zarella. She had a duty to perform. Obsessing over her personal issues wouldn’t help her to get it done.

Her bodyguard—a different man from yesterday—preceded her from the car. Three other Alizeans exited a car that had been following and formed a loose band around her. They were all very serious about their jobs today.

After they went inside and Veronica gave her thanks to the host and hostess, her security team peeled away until she was left with one man following at a discreet distance.

Inside the ornate ballroom, she was swept into the whirl and chatter of the crowd. Men and women introduced themselves in dizzying succession, her hostess having appeared from somewhere to guide her through the maze. She was still hoping to talk with Signor Zarella when Mrs. Witherston gave a little gasp.

“Madam President,” she said breathlessly, “allow me to introduce you to Raj Vala.”

Veronica turned sharply, her gaze clashing with Raj’s. He was smiling at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life.

“Pleased to meet you, Madam President,” Raj said.

“Likewise, Mr. Vala,” Veronica replied, following his lead.

But her heart began to beat double time as she took him in. He was far too handsome in his bespoke tuxedo, the white shirt once more setting off the golden color of his skin and eyes.

Truly, it should be against the law for a man to be so striking.

The jazz ensemble struck up a tune and Raj reached for her before she realized what he was about. “Do me the honor, Madam President?” he asked, as Mrs. Witherston tittered like a Regency matron.

“Of course,” she said as she put her hand in his. What else could she say? What else did she want to say?

Raj swept her into the swirling crowd, one hand firmly against her back, the other clasping hers. The pressure of his touch comforted her, made her feel as if she’d come home again after a long time away.

She hated it. Hated how her body reacted, how her mind seemed to want to attach significance to this man. He might be able to keep her physically safe from harm, but he could not keep her safe from himself if she insisted on lying helplessly in the tiger’s claws.

She knew better, and yet she turned into a puddle each time he touched her.

“How have you been today?” he asked.

“Well,” she said. “You?”

His eyes seemed to search her face, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I was busy taking care of a few things. But now I’m all yours,” he said, a devilish grin lifting the corners of his sensual mouth.

“Oh, all mine,” she cooed. “How delightful, Mr. Vala.”

“I thought we had gone beyond that.”

“How could we? I’ve only just met you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his sudden smile. “Ah, yes, of course. I thought we could use this opportunity to begin our ‘official’ relationship.”

“Why not?” she said, returning his smile. “It’s certainly more dignified.”

“But perhaps it’s not the first time we’ve met,” he said, his gaze skimming her face as he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Perhaps we are old souls who have known one another before. Perhaps we are meant to be.”

Veronica stumbled, but quickly caught herself. Raj was frowning. “It’s the shoes,” she said. And the fact she was tired from a restless night and unnerved to be in his arms again. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said. They moved across the floor together, their steps as fluid as silk. In her peripheral vision, she could see people stopping, pointing, heads leaning together as they talked about her and Raj. Ah, well, that had been the plan, had it not?

And yet it disappointed her in some respects. Now that they would be publicly linked, it was as if the innocence of their budding relationship had been eroded.

What relationship?

“Are we falling madly in love now?” Raj asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“Madly,” she agreed, playing the game. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Neither have I.”

The words they said had no meaning, and yet she couldn’t help but want to assign meaning that wasn’t there. Had she ever been truly, madly in love before? She’d thought she’d been in love, but she’d usually realized the disappointing truth at some stage.

And she was positive that no man had ever felt that emotion for her. Lust, yes. Love, no.

“When we finish dancing, I suppose you will remain by my side the entire night?” she asked. “Enraptured by my presence?”

“The proverbial wild horses could not drag me away, Madam President.” He lifted her hand to his lips again. The feather touch of his mouth against her skin sent a shudder rolling through her body. Hot need sizzled into the deepest parts of her.

Too bad this really wasn’t Regency England, because then she would be wearing long gloves. She wouldn’t be able to feel the sensual pressure of his mouth on her skin, wouldn’t have to fight the focusing of all her senses upon that one spot. It was an exquisite torture to endure.

“Too bad our love is doomed to fail,” she said, needing to counteract the drugging affect of his touch.

Again with the killer smile. “Then let us enjoy it while it lasts,” he purred. “It’s much more fun that way.”

The evening went much as she’d thought it might. Raj did not leave her side. To all appearances, he was smitten with her. And she returned the favor, smiling in his direction, seeking him out if he walked away for the barest moment. Her eyes were pulled to him as if he were a magnet and she the metal.

It made talking to Giancarlo Zarella a bit difficult, but she finally managed to get the Italian alone at a table for a few moments. He seemed interested in Aliz, his eyes gleaming speculatively as she talked of incentives and subsidies.

“You would levy no taxes against us for the first year of operations, you say?”

Giancarlo was handsome, but she found herself comparing him to Raj and judging him lacking. “So long as you invest the money into building up the resort and hiring Alizeans to staff it.”

“Make it two years, and I will consider it,” he said shortly.

Veronica leaned in. “One year is what I can promise. But I pledge to work on reducing the tax burden in your next five years in Aliz.”

Giancarlo laughed. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But then you know just how to twist the knife enough to get me to notice. I will think on it, I promise you.”

After that, Veronica felt as if nothing could puncture the balloons lifting her up tonight. She had no guarantees, but she felt as if she’d made a good start with Giancarlo. He would be in touch, she was certain. He left her at the table with an apology as someone beckoned him from another table a bit farther away.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

Veronica jumped at the voice. Raj was frowning down at her. He seemed troubled, but not alarmingly so. “I did,” she replied. “Or so I think.”

He took her elbow and helped her up. “Good. I think it is time we leave, then.”

Veronica blinked. The jazz ensemble was playing an upbeat version of a classic Christmas carol. “Time we leave? I’m not finished here yet.”

“How many hearts do you plan to capture tonight?” he asked. His voice was teasing, but his eyes seemed hot and intense. Serious. “You’ve had a long few days. It’s time you rest.”

“I can decide that for myself. You weren’t hired to oversee my schedule, you know.” She knew he was merely trying to protect her from harm, and yet the memories of her life with her father were too strong to dismiss. She would not be so controlled ever again. Keeping her safe wasn’t the same as wrapping her in a cocoon.

His jaw hardened imperceptibly. “Actually, it goes with the territory. Or didn’t you realize that?”

“I decide when I leave,” she said. “And I’m not ready yet. Unless there is a real threat at this moment and time, which I will acknowledge is your responsibility. Is there?”

He looked angry. “No,” he said shortly. “There is no immediate threat.”

“Then we stay.”

One eyebrow crooked. The superiority of that look infuriated her. “Then don’t blame me when you encounter people you might wish you had not.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Andre Girard just arrived.”

Her heart skipped a beat at that name falling from Raj’s lips. It was wrong somehow. Horribly, horribly wrong. For a moment she wondered if he knew what had happened between her and Andre, but then she told herself it wasn’t possible. Only a very small handful of people knew the true story.

“Andre is old news,” she said, more to convince herself than him. “I will not leave a party simply because he’s here, too.”

At that moment, Raj changed tactics. He slipped an arm around her waist, anchoring her to his side as he smiled down at her, his head dipping so close to her own that if she tilted her head back just slightly, their lips would meet. Her heart thundered in her breast so hard she was certain he could see it.

“I’m glad he’s old news,” he said softly. “Because he’s on his way over here.”

Veronica couldn’t speak as a shiver skidded along her nerve endings.

“I don’t care,” she finally managed to say.

“Good,” Raj said. “Neither do I.”

Then he dipped his head and kissed her.

Veronica couldn’t have prepared herself for the sensations zinging through her even if she’d had a year to do so. Raj’s mouth on hers was firm, the pressure exquisite. The barest slip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she was opening to him, taking him inside, tangling her tongue with his.

He made a sound of approval low in his throat that vibrated through her. Her core was melting, softening, aching. It was both surprising and alarming.

She knew there were reasons she shouldn’t be seen kissing this man so publicly, but she couldn’t think of even one. He scrambled her senses with his nearness. Made her long for more of the same. Made her want bare skin on bare skin, bodies tangled and straining together toward a single goal.

His fingers splayed over her jaw, tilted her head back so he could better access her mouth. The kiss seemed to go on and on, and yet she knew it had to have been only a matter of seconds before it ended.

She was staring up at him now, her lips stinging, her pulse throbbing in places she’d thought dead and buried until he’d walked into her life just twenty-four hours ago.

Raj was so cool, so unaffected. His golden eyes were hot, but that was the only sign he’d been at all moved by their kiss. He took a step back, his arm looped loosely around her.

“So you’ve found a new victim, I see.”

Veronica turned. Andre smirked at her, a pouty supermodel clinging to his arm. Andre was slick and handsome, as always. But he didn’t move her, not anymore. What she’d once thought was a fun and witty personality was now tarnished and dull.

Or, rather, her eyes had been opened to his true nature.

“Andre. I would say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but we’d both know that was a lie.”

Andre laughed. “It was good while it lasted, no? And just look at you now,” he said. “President of Aliz. However did you pull that one off, darling?”

Veronica refused to rise to the bait. It was what he wanted, but she relished denying him his wish. “The usual way. I ran against the incumbent and the people decided I was the better choice.”

“Ah, yes.” His eyes narrowed. “So much more interesting than motherhood, I would imagine.”

Veronica kept smiling even as a hot dagger of pain twisted in her gut. She wanted to turn into Raj’s chest, hide until Andre was gone, but she would not. She would not give her former lover the satisfaction of reacting.

She’d known he would take the shot. From the moment Raj had told her Andre was here, she’d known what would happen. She could feel Raj’s curiosity sparking, but she had to ignore it. Andre was her problem, not his.

“I believe there are rewards in many things,” she said.

Andre’s gaze flicked to Raj. “Careful, my friend. She’s not at all what she seems. You think she wants what you want, until one day she surprises you by wanting something else. If you’re lucky, you will escape before then.”

Raj’s grip on her waist tightened. “Veronica is an amazing woman,” he said. “Too bad that you couldn’t see it. Good for me, though. So thanks for being an idiot.”

Warmth flooded her. She knew he was only playing a part, but she was still grateful to him for saying it. He could have said nothing, but he’d chosen to defend her. When was the last time anyone had done so?

She’d been so devastated after she’d lost the baby. And yes, she’d turned to Andre, thinking he might feel her pain, too. But he hadn’t cared one bit. He’d considered it a lucky escape.

Andre’s smile was patently false. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Then he turned and walked away, the model trotting along dutifully.

Veronica let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It had gone better than she’d expected, though perhaps she should have realized that Andre would never make a scene. It simply wasn’t his style to get overly worked up about anything.

“What did you ever see in that guy?”

She met Raj’s critical gaze. He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head and he was trying to reconcile it. Veronica shrugged self-consciously. “He was charming when we first met. We had fun together.”

Belatedly, she pulled out of Raj’s grip, the memory of their kiss still sizzling into her brain. He let her go easily enough, and it made her wonder if she was the only one who’d been affected by the contact. That kiss had stripped away all her barriers while it lasted. It had scorched her to the depths of her soul.

Raj, however, looked completely cool and controlled. As if it had meant nothing to him.

Veronica lifted her chin. She was tired and she’d had enough for tonight. Enough with pretense and drama. Enough with being Madam President. She’d done what she came to do. “I’m ready to leave now.”

To his credit, Raj only said, “I had thought you might be.”

It took a while to say her goodbyes, but eventually they were in the foyer and Raj was helping her into her coat while her bodyguard stood by. She’d assumed he would put her into the car and follow separately, but he climbed into the warm interior with her. The guard went into the front seat, and then they were rolling away from Mayfair, the darkened London streets still alive with sound and traffic even at this late hour.

The kilometers ticked by in silence, other than the street sounds coming from outside. Veronica turned her head and watched as snow drifted silently down. She thought about making small talk, but could suddenly think of nothing to say.

“You will have to tell me eventually,” Raj said, his voice like the crack of a gun in the silent car, though he spoke in a normal tone. It was the sound coming after so much silence that startled her and made her lift a shaking hand to her throat to fuss with her scarf.

“Tell you what?” she managed to respond. Her voice was even. Calm. She was proud of that.

Raj’s fingers suddenly threaded into hers, closed tightly. They both wore gloves, but the pressure of his grip was warm, soothing. Comforting.

He squeezed softly, as if he were imparting strength. “About the baby.”