Page 74 of Dangerous Secrets

She could. Actually, it was the first time she felt warm since the terrible news. She’d forgotten about even the concept of warmth.

Vassily lay a hand on her knee and tightened his poor, scarred fingers. He was hurting her, just a little, his grip was so tight. But Charity didn’t have the nerve to say anything. It wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t gauge the strength of his grasp. God only knew how much feeling he had left in his hands.

Charity looked up and met Vassily’s eyes. Such a clear, pale blue, like a chilly spring sky. He was watching her unblinkingly, intently. “Well?” he asked again. “Feeling better?”

She drummed up a smile. She actually had to remind herself how to do it.Lift muscles around edges of mouth, show teeth.

She had another quick consult with her stomach. Yes, everything was going to remain safely inside her and not decorate Vassily’s coat, at least not any time soon. So she wasn’t going to humiliate herself. Not in the next ten minutes, anyway. Throwing up all over one of the world’s greatest writers was not something she wanted to do.

She was terribly flattered that he’d made the effort. He hadn’t showed up for the funeral, but she hadn’t expected him to. She knew how much he detested being out in the cold.

Indeed, his presence here was a sign of his affection for her. She was flattered, she really was.

But she reallyreallywanted to be alone.

Another forced smile. “Yes, I am, Vassily. I am feeling much, much better. I, um, I hadn’t thought to make tea for myself and it was very kind of you to come all the way over here for me. I promise I’ll drink it all, don’t worry. And I’ll eat what you brought me.”

Maybe. If her stomach behaved.

Charity made to rise, but his hand on her knee stopped her. Vassily’s grip wasreallystrong. He was pressing down on her knee, in an unspoken command to be still.

He was still watching her intently, pale gaze fixed on her face. His eyes were ice blue but they looked almost hot. Vassily had a strong personality. It was a little unsettling to be studied so carefully.

“I have—a business meeting this evening. Some partners are coming to . . . seal a business deal a long time in the making. It’s a something I’ve worked hard on for a long time and I want to celebrate the occasion. I would very much like it if you would have dinner with me tonight.”

Charity simply stared at him.

“I will have my driver pick you up here at about 6 pm. It will give you a few hours to rest and freshen up.”

She could hardly believe her ears. He wanted her tocelebratesomething with him? How on earth could she go to his house when she didn’t feel up to walking out to her mailbox?

Celebration? Would they have to dine with his business partners?

Oh God, facing people, making conversation, choking down food. There was no way on earth she could do that. Her stomach clenched just at the thought.

He lifted his hand, fingered a lock of her hair, expression dreamy. “You really must dye your hair, my dear. You would look so beautiful with your hair blonder. White blonde. And cut.” He indicated her jawline with a gnarled finger. “To here. So beautiful . . .”

“What?” The word came out on an expulsion of breath. “Myhair? You want me to bleach my hair and cut it?”

“Yes. Immediately.” There was something about his pale gaze, dreamy yet unwavering, as if he were seeing something that was not quite there. Seeing into her but also somehow pasther. “Pale, pale blonde. And the cut—a ‘bob’, I think it is called. So lovely. You would be so lovely.” He over-articulated the word bob, lips pursing, making it sound at once ridiculous and impossibly exotic.

“Vassily, I’m—I’m flattered that you want my company tonight. Don’t think that I’m not, but . . .”

“But?” His eyes were glittering, thin nostrils tightly pinched.

She opened her hands. “I buried my husband two days ago, Vassily. I don’t feel up to dinner out.” Or dinner in, if it came to that. “I simply don’t. How on earth can you expect me to dine out so soon after Nick died?”

Vassily didn’t react, his pale gaze calm and direct.

“You must,” he said simply, as if it were self-evident. As if there was no questioning the fact that she would.

Vassily’s personality was so strong, it was as if he had a force field around him that created its own reality, a reality where she automatically did his bidding.

“You must dine with me tonight, there is no other way. It is time. I need you to be with me.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, his touch cold, the scars thick and ropy. “You will come with me, Ka—Charity. You must. I will not take no for an answer.”

Something had flared up within him, some primal force of nature that he must have kept banked and only unleashed when he needed it. Now he wasn’t just a strong-willed man. Now he was almost super-human.

She knew his history, but for the first time, shefeltit. Felt the inner force of a man the Soviet Gulag, the entire resources of a powerful country founded on immense cruelty, had been unable to break. A man who’d withstood torture, beatings, privations unimaginable to her soft Western imagination. Nothing had ever broken him. Not the worst life could throw at him. Starvation and labor in sub-zero temperatures that would have killed alesser man. Broken bones and betrayal. They had left their scars but they hadn’t crushed him. He’d come out stronger than before.

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