Page 29 of Dangerous Passion

“From now on, until I order otherwise, you are the only person who enters my personal quarters unless I invite them up. You bring in the food and the other things I asked for, personally. Have someone help you get it to the door but you are the only one to cross that threshold, is that clear?”

He knew Shota would read it as testimony of Drake’s faith in him, and it was.

“Perfectly clear, sir. And…” Drake could almost imagine Shota blushing. “Thank you, sir.”

Drake switched the intercom off. He got up and went to a sideboard holding liqueurs and cigars in a humidor. The cigars were a monthly courtesy from the President of Honduras and he idly wondered what would happen when the President went. No doubt the shipments would stop. Times changed. They were changing right now.

He poured himself a stiff glass of Courvoisier Reserve and sat down on the couch with a sigh and took a long slug.

What excellent medicine alcohol was. Unless you were a slave to it, as most of the Russians he knew were, it was one of life’s great pleasures.

He sipped, enjoying everything about the moment. Extreme danger did that—heightened his senses, made him aware of the fullness of life.

The fire crackled pleasantly, the flames licking upwards in intense colors, bathing the room in a warm pink glow. On the floor below, chefs were readying his dinner, which he was certain would be superb. The Courvoisier was a warm pool in his stomach, radiating heat outwards.

He sat and basked in the fire, savoring the clean taste of the cognac and emptied his mind of all cares, all worries, safe in his fortress, waiting for the most beautiful woman in the world to come out from his bathroom.

How long would it take for him to shed this life? To effectively die? A week? Two weeks?

Whatever, as the Americans said.

At some pointshe was going to have to get out of this sinfully, outrageously luxurious tub. It was simply too wonderful, wallowing in the water, feeling the strong jets massaging her aching muscles.

She’d looked, but there had been no essential oils, so it was just unadorned New York water, which was fine.

Actually, though the bathroom was beyond sumptuous, she was astonished at the lack of personal care products.

Drake was obviously well to do. Filthy rich, actually. He could afford every skin care product in the world. But looking for some oil to put in the tub, all she’d found was masses of thick, blindingly white towels, something like fifty unused toothbrushes, ditto toothpaste, a year’s supply of a very ordinary soap and shampoo and an electric razor. That was it.

Amazing.

A few months ago, she’d briefly dated the guy in her bank who took care of investments. She’d been called into his office, wondering whether she’d done something wrong, only to find that the bank had been tracking her swelling account.Their investment expert, Lawrence Kelsey, had wanted to explain a number of investment opportunities, guaranteed to make her money grow.

In the end, it all seemed like a vast amount of work and more of a distraction than anything else. But at the end of the session, while shaking her hand, he’d held it tightly and asked her out to dinner.

And, in a moment of weakness and loneliness, totally against her better judgment, she’d accepted.

Dinner had been at a posh Japanese restaurant, where the food was excellent. She’d been able to concentrate on the food because Lawrence had kept up a running commentary on his banking career with a little hour-long detour on his new Lexus. She hadn’t had to do anything but stay awake, nod occasionally and enjoy the fantastic tempura.

She’d even accepted going back to his apartment, fully understanding that they might end up in bed together, testimony more to her worry that she’d forget what sex was like than to his powers of seduction. She’d asked to use the bathroom and had found herself simply open-mouthed with amazement at the vast array of skin care products and cosmetics and eau de colognes in an enormous white lacquer vanity. She’d felt quite ashamed of her own miserly collection. A quarter of an hour later, pleading a vicious headache, she was on her way back home.

Drake had nothing like that. For all the sybaritic luxury of the room, it was definitely a very male man’s bathroom.

She tilted her head back over the rim and emptied her mind, feeling her muscles relax slowly, one by one. Someone had set the jets at maximum and she relished the gentlepummeling. Her mind drifted. She might even have fallen briefly asleep, because she suddenly jerked upright, noting that her fingers had pruned.

She felt no sense of hurry, though. Drake hadn’t given her any feeling that he expected her to be quick, which was good. She was overwhelmed with exhaustion and found she could only move slowly.

The white towels were the thickest she’d ever seen. Once she’d towelled herself off and dried her hair, she noted the neatly folded black outfit on top of a cupboard. Opening the soft material out, she saw what a gi was. Those pajama-like outfits she’d seen in martial arts movies. The material was thick silk.

Grace looked at her clothes on the floor. Muddy, bloody and ripped. Including the panties. Just the thought of putting any of her filthy clothes back on repelled her. With a shrug, she donned the jacket and pants. He was right, it was perhaps the only thing of his which could possibly fit her. In the movies she’d seen, the outfit’s sleeves were three quarter length, but this covered her hands. She turned the sleeves up and wrapped the jacket around herself. The pants were too long, but not long enough to trip over. The drawstring waist was perfect. She contemplated her sodden shoes and opted to stay barefoot.

Okay. Time to leave the bathroom.

She realized that this time had been like a little respite for her. There were so many things she had to face once she went out into that bedroom, including Drake and this insane attraction he seemed to hold for her.

She knew nothing about him. The intense spike of fear she’d felt in the elevator had abated, but there was an underlyingunease. No one knew where she was and she now realized shecouldn’tgo home. In every way there was, she was in Drake’s power. Being attracted to him didn’t make things better, it made them worse.

Gathering her courage, she placed her hand against the white door, and pushed.

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