The Power of Vasilii Read online

  Neither expense nor gilding had been spared in the decoration of the hotel’s main foyer, Laura recognised as she surveyed an interior that seemed to be striving to combine European Renaissance and Rococo with Byzantine glamour via a nod in the direction of the vibrant colours of the East.

  If anything could be scrolled, carved and gilded then it had been. If embroidered silks and sequinned satins could be used instead of simpler cottons then they had. The inner atrium to the foyer stretched up to what was surely an impossible height, with an indoor water display incorporating fountains and multicoloured lights that was truly mesmerising.

  Columns inlaid with semi-precious stones and then gilded encircled an intricately worked mosaic floor, whilst the thinnest, most tanned, most designer-clad women she had ever seen in her life perched on ornate chaise longues. No wonder the poor things were wearing such brightly coloured outfits, Laura thought ruefully. They’d never have stood out against the sheer brilliance of the decor if they hadn’t.

  Despite the glitzy decor of the hotel, though, Laura couldn’t fault the attentiveness of the smartly uniformed staff who had brought her hot towels for her hands and then proffered glasses of both champagne and fresh fruit juice for her to drink, whilst the owner of the hotel spoke proudly to Vasilii in Russian about the growing success of his newly opened hotel.

  From what Laura had read its spa facilities were amongst the best in the world, catering as they did for both Western and Eastern tastes, whilst its restaurants and their menus had been created in conjunction with Michelin-starred chefs. With a world-ranking golf course and tennis academy as part of its complex, and the planned addition of an offshoot of a famous Swiss cosmetic surgery clinic and holistic therapy area, the hotel was, Laura suspected, bound to be a success—even if her own tastes ran to something smaller and quieter.

  The hotel owner was now telling Vasilii that he would show them up to the top floor and its suites himself, and as the two men moved away a very elegantly dressed woman of her own age glided over to Laura, walking so effortlessly in her very-high-heeled shoes that Laura immediately felt slightly envious. She preferred a lower, more comfortable heel to her shoes—especially when she was working.

  ‘Welcome. I am Katinka, from the hotel’s PR Department.’ The other woman introduced herself in English. ‘We have communicated already via e-mail?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Laura responded warmly. ‘I am very grateful to you for your patience with regard to the lastminute request I put in for flowers for the suite our Chinese guests are to occupy.’

  ‘They are here now—the flowers—and are being kept chilled in our florist’s rooms. I have had some samples of what they plan to do made up for you to examine.’ A small smile crossed the other woman’s immaculately made-up face. ‘I am very grateful to you for your suggestion that I study certain pieces of Ming Dynasty Chinese art over the internet to get an idea of the kind of arrangements that are most appropriate. I hope you will approve of our interpretations of it. If you would like to come this way?’

  Nodding her head, Laura walked with her escort towards the waiting bank of lifts. Katinka handed her a small leather wallet with some key cards in it.

  ‘You will need these keys to access the lift to the top floor and the doors to its suites. I’ve had the maid unpack your clothes for you. They arrived yesterday. I envy you the clothes from the new season’s ready-to-wear collections. Oh, I hope you don’t mind my saying that?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Laura assured her truthfully. She did not mind Katinka commenting on the contents of her new working wardrobe in the least. However, the fact that she was being supplied with such clothes certainly underlined the high status of her new role, and the demands both it and her employer would make on her. It was just as well that she knew Vasilii was the total opposite of sexually interested in her, otherwise she might have been anxiously worrying, after hearing that, that he might have a hidden agenda in mind.

  Would she? Was that really what that spurt of internal fireworks inside her body meant? Or could it possibly mean instead that secretly she liked the thought of Vasilii wanting to take her to bed?

  Of course not.

  The men, still engrossed in their own conversation in Russian, were disappearing in the direction of a sign that read ‘Staff Only’ whilst Katinka ushered her into one of the lifts. Laura’s eyes widened when she saw the mirrored, crystal-embellished interior.

  ‘This is a very glamorous hotel,’ Katinka told her proudly. ‘It cost many, many millions of dollars to build.’

  ‘Wei Wong Zhang’s entourage will have the whole of the lower floor to themselves?’ Laura checked.

  ‘Yes,’ Katinka confirmed as the lift rose upwards. ‘And we have made sure that one of the private dining rooms on the banqueting floor level will always be available for you. There are, of course, separate private dining facilities on both floors, and in both top-floor suites. Plus, we have made arrangements for a special welcome banquet to honour your Chinese guests in our Michelin-starred restaurant tomorrow night, when they arrive. You will have the best tables in the restaurant.’

  ‘Those tables are in a central position within the restaurant?’ Laura asked. ‘It would be considered an insult to our guests if it were to look as though they had been hidden away. Wealthy Chinese, unlike some of their Western counterparts, do not like to hide themselves away when they eat out.’

  ‘As you requested, the tables will be set up in the middle of the room, with Wei Wong Zhang, his wife and nephew in elevated positions above the other diners, with their backs to the wall. We have, of course, Feng Shui’d the room as well.’

  Laura’s smile thanked the other woman, who then continued eagerly, her real feelings breaking through the professional mask of her role.

  ‘This complex is a very exciting new venture for us here in Montenegro. All of us who are involved are so happy that we have this wonderful hotel to show to our visitors, and we are determined to make them feel so well looked after and pleased to be here that they will want to keep coming back.’

  ‘I am sure that you will do that, Katinka,’ Laura assured her. She liked the young woman, with the natural warmth allied to her professionalism, she decided, and was relieved to know that she would be working with someone with whom she felt it would be easy to get on.

  The lift stopped, its doors opening onto a good-sized rectangular hallway decorated in taupe and cream with touches of high-gloss black paintwork. The console tables and the mirrors over them were also lacquered a glossy black. The effect was an expensive look that successfully combined elements of Western and Eastern decor, Laura acknowledged, reflecting privately that she much preferred this to the lavish use of gilding she had seen earlier.

  ‘These double doors ahead of us lead to the Empire Suite,’ Katinka explained. ‘This door here to our right leads to a corridor that links the Empire and Royal Suites. There are keys to it so that it can be kept locked. We have arranged for the lift for the Empire Suite to have a stop on it for the floor below, for the benefit of your guests.’

  ‘Would it be possible for the Royal Suite lift to have the same facility?’ Laura asked, quickly assessing the situation. She would have to check with Vasilii, but he might want to speak with members of Wei Wong Zhang’s staff informally.

  ‘Yes, that would be possible. Here in this drawer on this console table your guests will find maps of their suites and the rest of the hotel,’ Katinka went on, opening the drawer to show Laura the glossily printed small concertina-shaped booklets, before closing it again to walk toward the double doors to the suite itself.

  Half an hour later, when Katinka escorted her to the Royal Suite, Laura acknowledged to herself that both the accommodation provided by the Empire Suite and the hotel’s organisation were superb and faultless. She had been delighted with the floral displays that had been made up, too—they were exactly what she had asked for, and Katinka had assured her that the fresh arrangements would be pla
ced in the suite ahead of the arrival of the Chinese.

  ‘I will leave you here to make your own exploration,’ Katinka told Laura as she handed several sets of keys over to her with a smile.

  Thanking her, Laura unlocked the connecting corridor door to the suite.

  The Royal Suite mirrored the room layout of the Empire Suite, having three large double bedrooms, each with its own dressing room and bathroom, a study, a sitting room and a private dining room, plus two small bedrooms which Katinka had informed her were for the servants of those guests who preferred to have their staff on hand at all times.

  As Katinka had shown her on the plan of the Empire Suite which room in the Royal Suite was to be hers, Laura located it straight away, relieved to discover that its decor was a subtle blend of soft aqua, duck-egg-blue and off-white that toned beautifully with the view of the sea and the sky beyond the room’s large windows.

  It was a relief to have this breathing space of time to herself, without having to worry about Vasilii watching and judging her every movement and every word, she admitted as she walked into the dressing room. Her stomach muscles started to tense. She looked at the wardrobe doors for several seconds, aware of how ambivalent her feelings were about the fact that beyond them lay the clothes that would be her new working ‘uniform’.

  Laura wasn’t naive enough to imagine that Vasilii had had anything to do with the actual choice of the clothes behind the closed doors. He would simply have given an instruction, outsourcing that choice to someone else. So why, then, did she still have this ripple of spine-tingling ‘something’—an emotional intensity that had no right to be there—infecting what should have been a simple swift and professional check on something business-orientated? She was ensuring that she had been provided with the right kind of clothes to effectively manage her work, that was all. Beyond these doors lay the necessary tools to equip her to perform her duties. There was no reason, no logic and certainly no need to have running through her head a mental image of herself looking at the clothes that were hanging inside the wardrobe and then imagining the touch of Vasilii’s hands on her skin. That was a totally illogical connection to make—and a very dangerous one. Because secretly she wanted to allow herself the indulgence of imagining how Vasilii’s possession of her body would feel …

  Alarmed—not just by the direction of her own dangerous thoughts but also by the effect they were having on her body—Laura yanked open the wardrobe doors and folded them back. The rail was filled with neatly hung clothes, whilst through the glass fronts of the floor-to-ceiling drawers she could see equally neatly folded things. The lower drawers contained dust covers over what Laura suspected were shoes and handbags.

  A quick check through the clothes confirmed that they were all the correct size. But then Laura would not have expected anything else. As a working wardrobe it breathed style, simplicity and good taste. Laura was no fool. She could easily work out for herself that Vasilii must have given the instruction that his PA was to wear clothes that looked businesslike but at the same time would impress those she dealt with on his behalf, emphasising the status of the man who employed her.

  She quickly decided that for this evening’s formal dinner she would wear a well known and exclusive designer label’s jade-green jersey dress. It had particularly appealed to her and she knew it would be perfect for such an occasion.

  The drawers revealed a selection of pretty, feminine, but in no way cheaply ‘sexy’ underwear, each piece perfectly suited for the clothes that would go over it. Nothing had been left to chance. There would be no risk of damaging the impression that Vasilii wanted to give to the Chinese. All good business practice, Laura knew, and yet as she closed the wardrobe doors on the beautiful clothes hanging inside them for some reason an aching sense of loss and sadness filled her. Why? Would she really be feeling any better if she thought that Vasilii had bought her new clothes because he wanted her to parade in front of him like a dancing girl, commanded into his presence for his pleasure?

  The clothes were a necessary part of her working life—of the image she must give to others in her role as Vasilii’s PA. With that in mind she needed to be thinking about how best to project that image for the upcoming arrival of the Chinese right now, instead of thinking about Vasilii, Laura reminded herself. That meant looking at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe with that meeting in mind, and banishing those unprofessional thoughts that had so affected her senses. Vasilii’s touch against her skin was not …

  But she must not—should not be thinking like that. Even though only a very few hours ago she had been so close to him that … Stop that, Laura warned herself, taking a deep breath and deliberately forcing herself to think more professionally.

  Whoever had chosen her wardrobe had known what they were doing, Laura acknowledged. Just as Vasilii had obviously known not only exactly the right size of clothes she would need, but also the type of styles that would suit her best in order to have instructed them. A man who could judge a woman’s body shape and the style most suited to it so accurately was a rare male indeed. But of course Vasilii had not been selecting clothes for her as a lover. It had not been with a lover’s gaze that he had visualised her body and then dressed and undressed it.

  The shock of sensation that jolted through her had Laura stepping back from the wardrobe with her face burning as hotly as her body. What was the matter with her? Where had this wanton, reckless, almost delinquent urge to create the images that were causing such havoc to her senses come from? Vasilii had known her dress size because he would have acquired files on her that revealed every single thing about her prior to him offering her the job. That was how modern business worked when it came to high-status jobs and those who offered them. The havoc her mind was trying to create was pure folly, and something she needed to bring to a halt—now.

  The discreet dull buzz of her mobile phone had her bending down to retrieve it from her laptop bag.

  Vasilii! Vasilii was ringing her.

  ‘Where are you?’ The sound of his voice—wholly controlled, coolly chilly and sharply acid—sent another zigzag of nerve-tingling awareness zinging down her spine.

  ‘I’m in the Royal Suite,’ Laura told him.

  ‘Good. I’m on my way up there. I’ll meet you outside the lift. I want to take a look at the Empire Suite ahead of the arrival of the Chinese.’

  As he finished the call Laura was already on her way to meet him. The freshly made floral arrangements should be in the Empire Suite by now, and checking it over with Vasilii would give her the chance to make sure that they were as good as the samples Katinka had shown her earlier.

  She was waiting when the lift doors opened, glancing automatically into the lift itself and then freezing. Her heart lurched and her throat closed up with dread when she saw from her own reflection in the mirror at the back of the lift that she was wearing only one of her mother’s earrings.

  Not even Vasilii’s frown and sharp, ‘What’s wrong?’ as he witnessed her reaction had the power to bring back her mask of professionalism.

  Her voice caught on her own emotions as she lifted her hand to her bare earlobe and responded, ‘One of my earrings is missing.’

  Vasilii glanced irritably in the direction of Laura’s ear. The hand she had placed against it was trembling, and he could hear the shocked emotion in her voice.

  ‘They belonged to my mother. When I wear them …’ Laura shook her head, unable to continue, as misery at the thought of having lost something so precious overwhelmed her. Her mother’s earrings meant so much to her. The thought that she had lost one of them was unbearable.

  Vasilii could see how upset Laura was. He didn’t need anyone to explain to him how much those precious things that had belonged to a loved and lost parent mattered, but neither did he want to be reminded of his own childhood vulnerability. Laura’s loss and her emotional reaction to it was touching a place within himself that he didn’t want to be touched. It made him curt with her as he asked, ‘Can
you remember when you last knew it was there?’

  Laura tried to think back. She had renewed her lipstick in the privacy of the plane’s washroom, and she knew they had both been there then.

  ‘On the plane—they were there …’ she began to tell Vasilii, only to come to a self-conscious halt when, instead of relaying to her an image of her own reflection in the cloakroom mirror with both earrings in place, her mind gave her instead not only a visual memory of herself lying in Vasilii’s arms but also a disturbingly sensual memory of just how it had felt to be there.

  ‘On the plane …’ Immediately Vasilii was physically reminded of those seconds—minutes—when he had felt Laura’s body touch his own, and the unwanted erotic effect that contact had had on him. Just the memory of it was powerful enough to have the same unwanted effect on him now, causing him to turn sharply away from her whilst he battled against the fierce ache in his groin and got himself back under control.

  One word to Alexei and any number of willing women could be summoned to ease his every sexual need, Vasilii knew, but his own sense of pride would never allow him to take that route to easing his need. Vasilii preferred to battle against his own unwanted weaknesses rather than give in to them. And this inexplicable desire that Laura Westcotte seemed to arouse in him was a weakness.

  The fierce, pounding urgency within his body had subsided to a raw ache. Half turning back to Laura, he commanded, ‘Look at me.’

  When she hesitated, he explained curtly, ‘I’ll take a photograph of the earring and e-mail it to the pilot of the plane so that he can get someone to search the cabin for it.’

  Nodding her head, Laura tried not to feel self-conscious as Vasilii aimed his phone’s camera, waiting until he had taken the picture before saying stiltedly, ‘Thank you.’

  Laura knew that the likelihood was that the earring had become detached from her ear during those few minutes of turbulence. She was genuinely grateful to Vasilii for what he was doing, but she also felt incredibly uncomfortable and self-conscious. It was a relief for her when he had finally sent the e-mail, with its attachment, and put his mobile away.