Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance by Cristina Grenier Page A
Authors: Cristina Grenier
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someone forced a metal rod down her throat.
She tiptoed around him – no mean feat, considering that she was currently staying in his home – and every time those lovely almond eyes of hers locked with his, he wondered what she was thinking.
He certainly knew what he was thinking.
He was regretting not taking her to bed when he had been drunk enough to proposition her. Of course, sober, such behavior was entirely unacceptable; but that didn’t mean he could avoid remembering the way she felt in his arms. How she smelled and how soft her skin had been…
It was hard for him take liberties when it seemed like Elisaveta was lurking around any corner. She seemed particularly voracious as of late, watching him like a hawk as he went about his business in the penthouse. Of course, for his most worthwhile investments, his accountant came to him – and that was nothing Veta didn’t know about. But lately, she’d been grilling him on the details of their finances almost as if she suspected he might be hiding something from her.
Unfortunately for his sister, if she wanted his secrets, she wouldn’t find them in ledgers and figures.
On the very rare occasions where Veta wasn’t looking, Demyan managed to sneak glances at Cadence. While she was reading in the library or hunched over a desk observing a session in the Kremlin. The way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she tried to teach herself Russian and poured over maps and history books like they were of tantamount importance. He couldn’t remember the last time he had encountered a woman more interested in knowledge than money.
It was refreshing.
As was Cadence herself, and the way she flaunted those abysmally attractive curves of hers in his presence.
He told himself that the reason he had stripped her so quickly once they’d reached the private safety of the hotel room was because she risked hypothermia otherwise; it distracted him from the almost painful hunger in his gut, despite having just eaten. How long had he wanted to see the look on her face as he divested her of every scrap of clothing she wore?
True, at that particular moment she’d been blue and shivering with cold, but that hadn’t taken away from the mouthwatering lines of her body. Unlike most Russian women, the underthings she wore were plain blue cotton rather than exorbitant lace – and through the thin, soaked material, he could quite easily see the pebbled peaks of her nipples.
It took every iota of control the dark-haired man had not to strip her of those final garments and take her to the big bed behind them to warm her up using his own methods. He was supposed to be a gentleman, he reminded himself. Gentlemen – especially gentlemen in his particular position - didn’t allow their carnal hungers to overcome their more rational minds.
Discreetly, he called down to the front desk and had someone come to pick up Cadence’s clothes to clean and dry them. As they’d come during peak hour for the hotel cleaners, he was told that the process would take about two hours – which meant that he’d have to come up with some suitable excuse for Osip. In just half an hour he would, no doubt, be looking for his biggest cheerleader. Cadence stood out in a way that couldn’t be missed.
He only hoped he’d gotten her up into the room quickly enough that the entire premises hadn’t seen her. Somehow, selfishly, he’d hoped that, by following her out for lunch, he’d be allowed a moment alone with her – away from the prying eyes of Veta, Lichakov, and everyone else who watched him like hawks, anticipating every move before he made it.
Of course, he hadn’t wanted a snow plow involved, but he supposed he’d have to take what blessings he was given.
Slowly, the tall man sipped from a single glass of whiskey – just enough to take the edge off. He’d had it brought up more for Cadence than himself. A few swallows would warm her insides just as quickly as he’d rushed to warm
She tiptoed around him – no mean feat, considering that she was currently staying in his home – and every time those lovely almond eyes of hers locked with his, he wondered what she was thinking.
He certainly knew what he was thinking.
He was regretting not taking her to bed when he had been drunk enough to proposition her. Of course, sober, such behavior was entirely unacceptable; but that didn’t mean he could avoid remembering the way she felt in his arms. How she smelled and how soft her skin had been…
It was hard for him take liberties when it seemed like Elisaveta was lurking around any corner. She seemed particularly voracious as of late, watching him like a hawk as he went about his business in the penthouse. Of course, for his most worthwhile investments, his accountant came to him – and that was nothing Veta didn’t know about. But lately, she’d been grilling him on the details of their finances almost as if she suspected he might be hiding something from her.
Unfortunately for his sister, if she wanted his secrets, she wouldn’t find them in ledgers and figures.
On the very rare occasions where Veta wasn’t looking, Demyan managed to sneak glances at Cadence. While she was reading in the library or hunched over a desk observing a session in the Kremlin. The way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she tried to teach herself Russian and poured over maps and history books like they were of tantamount importance. He couldn’t remember the last time he had encountered a woman more interested in knowledge than money.
It was refreshing.
As was Cadence herself, and the way she flaunted those abysmally attractive curves of hers in his presence.
He told himself that the reason he had stripped her so quickly once they’d reached the private safety of the hotel room was because she risked hypothermia otherwise; it distracted him from the almost painful hunger in his gut, despite having just eaten. How long had he wanted to see the look on her face as he divested her of every scrap of clothing she wore?
True, at that particular moment she’d been blue and shivering with cold, but that hadn’t taken away from the mouthwatering lines of her body. Unlike most Russian women, the underthings she wore were plain blue cotton rather than exorbitant lace – and through the thin, soaked material, he could quite easily see the pebbled peaks of her nipples.
It took every iota of control the dark-haired man had not to strip her of those final garments and take her to the big bed behind them to warm her up using his own methods. He was supposed to be a gentleman, he reminded himself. Gentlemen – especially gentlemen in his particular position - didn’t allow their carnal hungers to overcome their more rational minds.
Discreetly, he called down to the front desk and had someone come to pick up Cadence’s clothes to clean and dry them. As they’d come during peak hour for the hotel cleaners, he was told that the process would take about two hours – which meant that he’d have to come up with some suitable excuse for Osip. In just half an hour he would, no doubt, be looking for his biggest cheerleader. Cadence stood out in a way that couldn’t be missed.
He only hoped he’d gotten her up into the room quickly enough that the entire premises hadn’t seen her. Somehow, selfishly, he’d hoped that, by following her out for lunch, he’d be allowed a moment alone with her – away from the prying eyes of Veta, Lichakov, and everyone else who watched him like hawks, anticipating every move before he made it.
Of course, he hadn’t wanted a snow plow involved, but he supposed he’d have to take what blessings he was given.
Slowly, the tall man sipped from a single glass of whiskey – just enough to take the edge off. He’d had it brought up more for Cadence than himself. A few swallows would warm her insides just as quickly as he’d rushed to warm
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