his drugs, even if it was just a couple of extra painkillers that he was asking for. She saw his eyes widen a touch, watched him open his mouth to speak, but Alina got in first. ‘If you want to overdose then you can fetch them yourself.’
Alina put the tablets down on the table in front of him and waited for the same roar he had served Nadia.
It never came.
Alina blinked in surprise when Demyan merely shrugged and stood up, though he did not head to the bathroom to get any more tablets; instead, he picked up his jacket. ‘We will go and look at my residence but first we will stop for lunch. Perhaps it is fresh air that I need more than painkillers.’ He liked her shy smile and the way that her serious brown eyes flared in relief.
He liked it that she defied him.
So few did.
‘Ring and book a table.’ Demyan had made more decisions than he cared to this morning, he simply wanted lunch. ‘You choose where.’
That should be it.
With anyone else, that would have been it.
His word, her command.
‘Actually...’ Alina gave a tentative cough before continuing, ‘I can’t have lunch with you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I have to have lunch separately from the client.’ Alina attempted the impossible, to explain rules to a man who made his own. ‘It’s in the agency guidelines. It’s on the contract that you signed last night.’
‘Did I?’
Alina fished out the boilerplate contract from her bag and showed Demyan, who looked at his unmistakable signature. Last night remained a bit of a blur. ‘So I did.’ He flicked through the contract. ‘It says here that you are to finish promptly at five, with no exceptions. Can I ask why?’
‘I’m a temp,’ Alina said. ‘It’s simply the agency guidelines.’ She didn’t add that Elizabeth would very possibly throttle her if she knew what was being said. Elizabeth would have her staying back to midnight if it pleased Demyan. Neither did she add the guidelines meant that by finishing promptly at five she was able to work in the evenings.
‘Very well.’ Demyan shrugged. ‘We have a lot to do between now and five but first I need to eat.’
Alina called a restaurant from the list Marianna had emailed over and she called for his driver too, who was waiting for them as they stepped onto the forecourt.
For the first time in her life, Alina felt heads turn.
Though, of course, they turned for Demyan.
The door to a sleek silver car was being held open and after a teeny hesitation Alina realised that Demyan was waiting for her to get in.
In the back.
With him.
So this was how his PA lived, Alina thought as they drove through the city. With him, not beside him but separate, for she might as well not be there. At first he made no attempt at conversation, instead looking out the window, quite content not to fill the silence.
Alina’s heart was still hammering; it hadn’t stopped since they’d first met. It was close to one o’clock and almost five hours since first she had laid eyes on him and not by a flicker had his beauty or presence dimmed.
Alina stared out of her own window, unused to the awareness that had flooded her body, and then she heard his voice.
‘Roman was born there.’ He said it more to himself. Aware that his time in Australia was now limited, Demyan had been silently taking it all in. He stared at the hospital as they passed it, remembering how proud he had been that day, how determined he had been to do this right.
As Alina turned and glanced over, she noticed that all the arrogance in him seemed to have gone; she had never seen such sadness. Had she known him, even loosely, she would have followed instinct and asked what was wrong for there was torture in his eyes as they passed the hospital.
‘So was I.’
Alina’s voice and his mild surprise at her statement pulled Demyan from introspection and their eyes met. It was surely the only similarity they shared, Alina thought. Demyan’s vast wealth would ensure now that he attended only the most esteemed private hospitals but that Roman had been born there told her that he had started from the bottom.
‘How long ago?’ Demyan asked, and she told him it had been twenty-four years.
‘My mum wanted to have me at the local hospital or at home but I was complicated. I mean, the pregnancy was complicated.’ She blushed. Alina always did around men and especially him, but this had more to do with what she had just said. She didn’t usually open up easily and yet she just had.
‘I would have been nine years old,’ Demyan said. ‘I don’t think I had even heard of Australia then.’
Alina did the maths and placed him at thirty-three, and she knew from the glossies and a little internet research yesterday that Roman was fourteen. ‘You were a very young father.’
‘Not really,’ Demyan, said and he didn’t respond to her questioning frown. He wasn’t about to explain to his PA that he had never in his life felt young. Even as a small child he had had so many responsibilities.
‘I went to school near here.’ Alina filled the silence.
‘I thought you lived in the country.’
‘I boarded during the week,’ Alina said. She told him the name of the school and Demyan raised one eyebrow. It was a very strict, all-girls school. ‘My mum was very adamant that I get a good education.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Believe me, it wasn’t.’ She looked at two girls walking along, chatting, in red and white dresses and boaters. ‘Even the sight of the uniform still makes me feel ill.’
‘You didn’t like high school?’
‘I hated it,’ Alina said. ‘I didn’t fit in.’
‘That’s not such a bad thing.’ Demyan shrugged and got back to looking out the window but he didn’t end the conversation. ‘I never have.’
Alina looked over at him.
Wondered about him.
But Demyan had gone back to his own space.
They pulled up at the restaurant Alina had booked and she felt just a little bit foolish when she again declined his offer to join him for lunch.
‘I’ll meet you back at the car.’
‘Very well. How long does the contract say you have for lunch?’
She knew he was being facetious. Demyan wasn’t going to plan his schedule around her and she asked the driver to text her as soon as Demyan was ready to leave.
Yes, some might consider her foolish, for instead of joining Demyan and eating from the most luxurious menu, Alina bit, without much enthusiasm, into a salad sandwich that she had prepared that morning.
It felt far safer, though.
Alina had never met anyone so completely male before. She had never known her body react even remotely the way it was this morning and it scared her.
She blew out a long breath and gave up on her sandwich. There was a low, unfamiliar thrill at her very base that all morning she had been doing her level best to ignore. Now, instead of ignoring it, she tried reason.
Stunning to look at he may well be, but he was bad, he was dangerous. The way he’d spoken to his ex-wife told her that, the three women leaving his suite were a pretty decent clue...
Alina took a less than enthusiastic bite of her apple and then promptly threw it in the bin.
She was sick of apples.