Page 8 of Diamond Don

I can hardly breathe as he, boldly maintaining eye contact, brushes his lips against my fingers. The moment is almost hypnotic. Even with a slight shake of my head, I struggle to clear the sudden haze overtaking my brain, unable to suppress another sigh.

“I wish I could stay. But I happen to know my carriage will turn into a pumpkin at midnight. So, you see, I really have to get going. You understand, I’m sure.”

“A pumpkin carriage, huh? Should I call you Cinderella, then? I’m a little rusty on my fairytales, but I’m pretty sure even she stayed long enough for a dance.”

“Oh! Are you saying you are my Prince Charming, and we are to live happily ever after?” I breathlessly ask him, pressing my free hand to my chest. Maybe my mock eagerness will scare him off so I can finally depart.

“Stay with me tonight, milaya, and I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

His intensity and self-assuredness take me by surprise, giving me pause. “You’re dangerous,” I say. I don’t even bother hiding how deeply affected I feel by our encounter.

Strangely enough, Nikolai seems to consider my words earnestly. “Not to you. Not tonight,” he says a few heartbeats later. His tone is more serious than I expected. His statement once again catches me off guard.

I really look at him. The man is obviously blessed with devastating good looks. He’s also too charming for his own good—or mine, I suppose. Clearly, he’s very aware of his talents and won’t hesitate to use them.

To make matters worse, his dogged determination not to let me leave shows me he feels as drawn to me as I do to him. Even now, his gaze scorchingly caresses my lips, neck, and body as he looks his fill.

Once again, I stifle a sigh. The only thing more irresistible than a distractingly attractive man is a distractingly attractive man who wants me badly.

Something outside of his compelling magnetic field makes me uneasy. After glancing around, I groan in frustration when I notice a few people nearby peeking at us and whispering. The last thing I want or need is to attract undue attention.

Nikolai must be someone important or famous to have earned an invitation to this glitzy event. His bespoke tuxedo alone must have cost him a small fortune. He also looks like he belongs in this star-studded gala, surrounded by people I often spot on magazine covers or television. Besides, I can’t fathom why else these men and women now staring at us would feel moved to gossip in such an indiscreet fashion.

Nikolai realizes that our back-and-forth is making many of the guests quite curious. He raises an eyebrow and makes eye contact with a few of them. To my immense amusement and surprise, they quickly glance away.

Fascinating.

I look into Nikolai’s eyes once again. He tightens his hold on my hand and an extraordinary amount of excitement bubbles up inside me.

“Very well,” I say. “One dance, Charming. No more.”

Or so I fervently hope for my sake.

Nikolai smiles at me, pulling me closer, and my legs threaten to turn into jelly.

No man should look this hot. It simply isn’t fair to womenfolk everywhere.

Without another word, he wraps his arm around my waist, guiding me towards where the orchestra just finished a lively song I don’t recognize.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. If the mere weight of his arm on my back feels this intoxicating, I dread to imagine how it will feel if he holds me closer to his body during our dance. Or underneath it, in a different type of dance altogether.

Nikolai glances at me as he leads me to a darkened corner of the dance floor, secluded from the other couples enjoying the music.

The band shifts gears into the first notes of a slow melody I’m too preoccupied to identify, and he leans in closer to whisper in my ear. “What will it take to get you to tell me your name?”

As his sensual lips graze my ear lobe, I catch a whiff of his scent, and I’m in heaven. Like the man it belongs to, it’s intensely masculine, sophisticated, and impossibly sexy. He smells of man, whiskey, and sin.

I rise on my toes, unable to resist the urge to allow my lips to flutter against his ear as I say, “Nothing you have.”

Nikolai glances at me appreciatively. Too late, I realize he’s not the kind of man to walk away from a challenge like the one I just brazenly offered to him.

“I don’t know about that, milaya. I’m a pretty resourceful guy.” He pulls me closer as we sway to the tune played by the orchestra.

“What does that word mean? Milaya?” I ask.

He leads us through a slow dance, and I savor the feel of his right hand enveloping mine while his left one rests dangerously low on my bare back. Helpless to stop myself, I touch the hair on the back of his neck. It’s surprisingly soft. His eyes grow heavy-lidded. It shouldn’t please me this much that my touch brings him great satisfaction, but it does.

“Give me your name, and I will tell you,” he says with a small smile.

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