Page 15 of Frequency of Attraction

“It means I miss you. But she’s right, you can’t come back here. We’re stuck unless something changes.”

That change being that their mother died, in which case he’d bring Dasha to live with him, Adrik died and they could all do whatever the fuck they wanted again, or the two brothers had their long overdue confrontation. Adrik hated him for being the better man, for getting out of a neighborhood that brought people down like quicksand. Vadim hated him back for much more. How badly Vadim wished he could hurt his brother for the pain he’d caused. He released a frustrated groan.

“It’s not your fault. You’re the only one who thinks you’re to blame. You’re doing what you can like you always have. You deserve to take these opportunities you’veearnedand see them through.”

He hated the feeling underneath his skin. The jumpy yet cemented sensation of being a world away from people who needed you. But, fuck, he loved his sister. He loved her heart.

“I’m in the States now, but I can send anything you need or get on a plane in a heartbeat.”

She gasped. “Annika’s in the States. Her mother, too. They’re all there. I ran into her sister at the market earlier this week and she told me.”

For the second time in the conversation, cold washed through him. “Annika’s here? Where?”

“It started with an ‘M’, I think. But, Vady, don’t get your hopes up. Lada thinks she’s in trouble again.”

Vadim gritted his teeth together. Annika, the secondary schoolmate he’d fucked so unceremoniously, was notoriously hard to get ahold of. He’d been trying for years.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you going to try to save her, too?”

He didn’t reply. Some people didn’t want to be saved, and some people needed saving whether they knew it or not.

She sighed. “I love you. Thanks for calling. Keep calling, no matter what Mama says. And good luck. I hope you find her.”

“I love you, too, Dasha. Anything you need or want, ever, call me.”

Vadim hung up with his sister and navigated straight to his text messages. He pulled up the string with Annika, dating back three years.

Only two were from her. The rest, dozens and dozens, were from him.

He navigated to the first message, a photo in a lush green park. He zoomed into the background, where he could see bronze duck statues in a row on a brick path. Details he’d registered but never really thought about.

Vadim googled “bronze duckling statues America” and a similar image came right up. So did the location. Boston, Massachusetts. That started with an ‘M.’

He fired off his thirty-eighth text message to Annika. The thirty-seven before had gone unanswered. Hopefully this one wouldn’t.You’re in Boston? I’m in California. Give me an address and I’ll get on a plane. Please.

He waited for hours, then days, and no answer came.

9

By the time Quinn strolled into her office Monday morning, she’d changed her mind about Vadim’s proposition at least two hundred times. The idea was ludicrous. She couldnotsleep with someone she worked with. But the shape of him tantalized her. Masses of muscle that tapered down to a trim waist and strong legs. Yet Vadim was also cocky and soloud. What if someone found out what they were up to? But what else could he do with that loud mouth?

She settled into her desk to perform her daily skim of the French tabloids and to check the event calendar that she’d created for the whole Geier Group. She also needed to finalize photography for OrbitAll’s new print advertising campaign. Elle, who had come to them from one of the swankiest resorts on the planet, was helping them target publications in which to advertise the ultimate in luxury travel. The finishing touches on Stratos’ interior had been completed: metallic wall coverings, lavish seats, and copious round windows offering endless views. They could now use the plane itself to help sell tickets.

Quinn jumped when she heard Vadim’s top-volume voice in the hall. Her first wild thought was to duck, but she held her ground. He hadn’t seen her naked yet. There’d be time for hiding later, if she went through with their little sexual experiment.

Tate’s head poked into the room. “Morning, Quinn.”

They hadn’t seen each other at the villa that morning. He was an earlier riser. “Bonjour.”

Vadim stood right behind him, hands in the pockets of his slacks. The brightly colored stained glass-patterned tattoos on his neck stood out against the forest green button-down. Tendrils of ink brushed along his jaw and disappeared behind his ears. With the flick of a few buttons, Quinn could learn what else graced his skin. His sapphire eyes burned through her. She wiggled in her seat as his smirk grew. His body turned away long before his gaze did.

Despite all the lingering looks, by Wednesday she’d talked herself out of the deal yet again. Who needed orgasms? Who needed the stress of clandestine meetings with a man like Vadim? Not Quinn.

She left the hangar that evening secure in the decision to keep their relationship strictly professional. There was no possible way her body would react to him so fully forever. Eventually she’d become desensitized and her body would revert back to its inert pre-Vadim state.

Quinn heard the rumble of his engine as she loaded her bags in the passenger seat of her car. She took her time, pretending she didn’t hear Vadim idling behind her in that loud rental. But when she rose and angled his way, he could no longer be ignored. The passenger window was rolled down like he had something to say.

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