Page 45 of Weeping Roses
“What time will you pick me up?” She cocks her head to one side and I laugh softly.
“Seven. At your door.”
“It’s a date.”
She makes to leave and yet for some reason, I don’t want her to go and so I pull her down and press a light kiss to her sweet lips. As I pull away, I stare deep into her eyes and say huskily, “You are so beautiful, malyshka. You don’t need to dress in fuck-me lingerie to make me want you any more than I do already. I prefer you naked; it’s better that way.”
“You didn’t like it?”
She attempts to disguise her disappointment and I bite back my real reply and whisper, “I loved every minute of it because for some reason, you make me happy little one, and I am still figuring out why.”
“Same.” She kisses me back slowly and seductively and I am already regretting business getting in the way of what I’d rather be doing but I’m a Romanov and business will always come first. So, as she pulls away, she throws me a happy smile and I don’t prevent her from leaving the bed this time and merely watch with growing admiration as she heads naked into the neighboring bathroom.
CHAPTER 26
POLLY
This stuff is incredible. I gaze around at the mountain of unopened bags and boxes still to explore and can’t believe this is happening to me. The delivery was taken to the master suite where there is a huge dressing room, but I’m almost positive it’s too small for all this stuff.
Inside every piece of tissue paper is a beautiful garment of superior quality that I never imagined I would wear. It’s too much to comprehend, and I am drowning in unexpected delight.
It takes me two hours to open a mere quarter of what was delivered and yet I can’t contain my excitement, as every purchase reveals something so gorgeous my heart dances with joy. Valentin has impeccable taste, and I never imagined some of these styles would suit me, but even holding them against me as I stare into the mirror reveals they complement my complexion perfectly.
I am so absorbed in my task I’m surprised when my phone rings. It’s unusual because I have a small circle of friends who usually WhatsApp me.
As I lift the phone, I don’t recognize the number and answer with a curious, “Polly speaking, how may I help you?”
“Polly, darling.”
The woman that answers me has an American accent and says kindly, “It’s Marsha Steele, your aunt’s friend. You may remember the card I sent you.”
“Of course. Thank you for your kind wishes.”
I take a seat on the padded bench and my heart beats furiously as I speak, because I am already wary of the woman purely due to what Valentin told me.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but fate had brought me to London, and I hoped we could meet up. Say lunch at Selfridges’ roof garden, tomorrow at two o’clock.”
“Oh, um–” I don’t really know what to say because I’m positive Valentin would have something to say about this and she interrupts my hesitation by saying in a low voice, “Please make the time, darling. I have a business proposition for you, as well as information you will really want to know.”
“Okay.”
I’m guarded but curious, and her voice lifts as she says with satisfaction. “I will look forward to meeting you. Save my number to your contacts and call me when you arrive. “
“Okay. Um, thank you.”
‘’I’ll see you tomorrow, Polly. You won’t regret it.”
As she cuts the call, I stare at the blank screen for a while, wondering what she wants.
A business proposition.
What on earth could that involve? And what is the information she has? A stirring of excitement lights deep inside me and I stare around the dressing room, wondering about this world I have fallen into. A couple of days ago I was Polly Scott-Stanley. Copywriter from home who struggled to meet anyone. Now I’m living a life that has espionage written all over it and have shamelessly given myself to a man who heats my blood and shatters my principles. Now I’m about to meet a woman who may have the answers Valentin seeks and yet in discovering them, it may bring an end to this fantasy, which I know I’m not ready for.
I’m conflicted. I want to go, but I don’t want Valentin to go. Things are just getting interesting and yet he’s made it perfectly clear he is here on borrowed time.
I have mixed feelings indeed about this lunch date tomorrow and vow that just for tonight, I will keep it to myself.
Exactly two hours and twenty minutes later, I make my way to the front door to meet my prince, feeling like a princess. I’ve had so much fun transforming myself from Polly, an ordinary girl, into the date of a billionaire. It’s definitely how I think of him, and I doubt I’m wrong.