Chapter 24
24
A nanya sipped her champagne, watching Mihir talk with the Minister of Energy of an African nation.
She studied his profile. Dressed in a full black tuxedo and matching black mask—his posture erect, his jaw lifted—he looked like he was born to command everyone and everything in this room. That sexy scar on his face only added to the danger that oozed from him. She still didn’t know how he had got the scar in the first place. She’d ask him eventually. Soon, she’d get the answers to all her questions. But she did hate that he thought less of himself because of it. He really shouldn’t. Of all the men in this room, she had eyes only for him. Of course, she hadn’t failed to notice all the other women whose eyes kept straying to Mihir. Her hand tightened on Mihir’s arm. He immediately looked her way and arched a brow. She shook her head, loosening her grip on him, and he continued conversing with the man in front of him.
The man with Mihir left, and another took his place, something that had been going on for the last half an hour. And they were all very important people—the defense minister of some country, the ruler of a smaller nation, the Secretary of State of another country… the list went on and on. She looked around. There were no security guards anywhere. Anton had told her on the way here that they were forced to wait outside—something that Chekov and he disliked. But the UK embassy was sacred UK ground, and they couldn’t do much except follow the protocol. However, he had assured her that they all were safe here.
Mihir drew her to him and introduced her to yet another business associate of his. He’d been trying his best to include her in his conversations. He’d made her feel comfortable throughout and hadn’t left her side at all. Still, several times, his conversations drifted into business concerns, like right now. She stood quietly by his side, listening as he spoke in Russian. It still boggled her mind that he could speak Russian so fluently now. She knew he was learning in those days, but she’d thought it was a hobby, not a purpose.
Mihir looked up and found her watching him. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes as they raked her from head to toe. Her stomach knotted with answering desire. The urge to grab his hand and take him to a corner where she could have her way with him rushed through her. With that also came the need to claim him in front of all these people, especially the women who wouldn’t stop ogling him. Oh, how she wanted to claim him in front of them all. How she hated the hungry looks they threw his way.
She took another sip of her champagne. She couldn’t do any of that. He wasn’t hers. He’d made it amply clear that he didn’t want to be hers. But even that knowledge didn’t stop her from remembering exactly how he made her feel when he touched her. And that she wanted him to touch her again. To give her the pleasure only he could.
His lips curved in a knowing smile, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had flown. Her heart melted. Fuck, that smile. That devastating smile had ruined her life once, and now, so many years and heartbreaks later, she’d jumped headfirst into yet another reckless situation with him, without thinking through the consequences.
God, if she could change one thing from that time, it would be that she should have gotten to know everything about him. In hindsight, she realized she should have asked him more questions about his life, his past, his father, and his brothers. She should have been less… na?ve.
The man in front of Mihir said something, and Mihir looked away from her. She took a deep, much-needed breath of air, happy to not be the focus of his intense and confusing attention for a moment. She needed time to gather her thoughts. But her relief was short-lived. A moment later, the man shook Mihir’s hand and left.
Once again, Mihir turned his attention to her. “I apologize for leaving you unattended for so long.”
“It’s fine. I can see how important you are.”
“Being the MD comes with its own stress.” Mihir picked up a shot of vodka from a passing waiter and downed it in a single gulp. Taking the empty glass from her hand, he handed both their glasses back to the waiter.
“Do you want another drink?” Mihir asked.
She shook her head.
“How were your meetings today?” she asked.
“Mostly good. I also had one meeting with the O-Corp board. It was a precursor to our annual meeting. As expected, a few of the board members have taken fault with me because I am being written about, and not in a good light. Those are mainly old men who are very patriotic and also happen to support Ivan’s claim to O-Corp.”
The music around them changed in tempo and increased in volume. Many of the attendees paired and took to the dance floor to the right of the room.
Ananya faced him. “Considering a broader outlook, don’t you think it’s ridiculous to expect the media to not write about a prominent person like yourself? Armaan was a playboy, for God’s sake. There were articles about his escapades everywhere. How was that not a problem?”
“True,” Mihir replied. “However, he’s not the MD. I am. And since I usually stay out of the media spotlight, my image has been pristine so far, which means there has been no reason for them to challenge my father’s decision to make me the MD, and not Ivan. They’re just using your posts as an excuse to undermine my authority and position. You see, they’ve always considered the three of us as outsiders, not truly Russian. After talking to them earlier, I suspect that Ivan’s been using your posts to poison their minds against me.”
Ananya looked at Mihir. “Well, I suppose I ought to apologize then.”
“You don’t sound apologetic in the least,” he replied, looking amused.
“I wrote those posts to disrupt your life a little bit. So, definitely not sorry about doing that. However, I am sorry if they are impacting your position as MD.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle. I realized today that except for three board members who are pro Ivan, the rest seven of them are not. They remain firmly in my corner. And after this meeting I had, even the ones on Ivan’s side are getting a bit skeptical about him.”
She frowned. “How so?”
“You see, Armaan, Vedant, and I had started talking to the board about how Ivan had been targeting everyone around me in order to get to me. I presented all the evidence we had gathered to them at this meeting. Everyone was shocked and disturbed once they saw the evidence of how vile he’s been. I suppose your article, once it comes out, will establish everything in my favor once again.” He smiled. “So, as of now, the situation is under control. It was good to see that my popularity with most of the board is still intact. People like me, you know.”
She looked heavenward. “I’m sure the list is tiny. You’re quite a grump.”
He chuckled. “I do know how to charm people.”
“You haven’t managed to charm me.”
“I think our recent escapades in bed sufficiently prove that I have, indeed, charmed you. Several times.” His eyes burned through her, reminding her exactly how he had charmed her. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his lips, scraping his teeth down the delicate skin of her wrist. A shudder racked her body. His eyes darkened as he noticed it.
She let out a slow exhale, controlling her rapidly beating heart. She only had two days left in Moscow, and her next words would be considered utterly reckless. But this was Mihir, and when it came to him, she’d always been reckless. What was one more time?
Besides, she knew he wanted her too. It was obvious from the way he looked at her. It was the reason she was standing here beside him in a beautiful ball gown chosen by him .
Emboldened by that knowledge, she said, “I suppose I have forgotten. Care to remind me?”
His gaze turned electric. The very air between them charged.
“What are we doing, Anna?” he asked. “I’ve been at odds with you for the longest, and now this… us… It’s like I’ve gone back in time, and I can’t seem to stop what is happening between us again.”
She ran a finger down his scar. His harsh intake of breath gave her courage. “I can’t stop it either, Mihir. I know all the problems between us. I know I ought to stay far fucking away from you. Yet, I can’t.”
Clasping her arms, he pulled her closer and touched his forehead to hers. “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s just be Mihir and Anna,” she said. “Two people with no past and no future. We’re just going to seize this moment in time for us and live it.”
“Carpe diem?”
“Carpe diem,” she repeated.
“And later?”
“Let’s leave ‘later’ for when it comes.” Taking a step behind, she held out her hand. “Come, dance with me.”
Mihir glanced from her hand to the crowded dance floor.
She laughed. “Don’t tell me you still don’t know how to dance. Do you want me to teach you again?”
“Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two now.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, really? Well then, surprise me, Oshnov.”
“With pleasure.” He put his hand in hers and led her to the floor.
The orchestra was playing a lilting waltz now. Holding her in his arms, he began to move them to the music. She felt the pressure of his hand on her back as he guided her through the dance. Mihir danced with a fluid grace, his steps precise and elegant as he steered her around the floor. He’d not been a dancer when they’d been together all those years ago. Clearly, he’d learnt and mastered how to dance now. Jealousy stung her, thinking about all the women he’d danced with like this before her. She forced herself to discard that emotion. Mihir was not hers forever.
But, for the next two days, she was silently claiming him as hers.
She was here, in his arms, dancing to this beautiful, soul-stirring music, and that was what mattered. The present mattered, not the past, and definitely not the future. She was going to enjoy every moment with him.
Mihir twirled her. Her crimson gown swished around her legs as she effortlessly spun back into him. Her eyes met his, and she could see the same spark of joy in his gaze.
Her body continued moving in perfect harmony with his, like it was born to dance to his tune. The music rose in crescendo. Mihir twirled her again and again. Finally, on the last turn, he dipped her low, her hand almost touching the floor, his face a breath apart from hers. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment before smoothly lifting her back up just as the music halted.
A loud applause followed. She blinked, surprised to see that they were the only ones who had been dancing on the floor. Everyone had stepped back to watch them.
Mihir clapped along with everyone, and then led her to the side.
“Surprised?” Mihir asked.
“Surprised and impressed.” She pushed to her toes and straightened his bow tie. “You have quite the moves, Oshnov.”
He linked her hand to his. “I may have learned a thing or two over the years.”
“I want to see all your moves, Oshnov. Make me feel only what you can.”
His eyes darkened, and he caressed her cheek. “You’re playing with fire, Anna.”
“Good, now make me burn.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Let’s go home.”
His lips twitched. His eyes swept past hers. He looked in the distance and then back at her. “One of the board members is beckoning me. I’ll need to leave you alone for a few minutes. Will you be alright by yourself?”
“Of course. Go do your thing.”
“We’ll leave as soon as I return.”
She nodded.
Mihir went to an older gent. Seeing him engrossed, she drifted towards the grazing table. Various types of cheeses, crackers, dips, olives, canapés, buns, tarts, and finger fruits were spread out in front of her, the tags on them in Russian, with English translation below.
“Try the Tvorog ,” a voice said from her right. “It’s very authentic Russian cheese.”
She looked to the side and found a tall, blonde man dressed in a black tuxedo and a white mask standing next to her. His icy blue eyes bore into her through the slits in his mask.
She looked at the cheese platter he was pointing to.
“Have it with the apricot jam,” he advised.
Forking a small portion of the cheese, she dipped it into the jam and took a bite. A burst of flavors hit her tongue—sweet, salty, tangy. The combination was delicious indeed.
She swallowed it whole and tipped her fork at the man. “Thank you. That did taste good.”
“You’re welcome. Can I get you a drink?”
Something about him made her feel wary. She shook her head. “I’m waiting for someone, actually.”
“Of course, you’re waiting for Mihir Oshnov. Most women are… The queue of women waiting for his attention is quite long.” His lips thinned. “What will you have? Champagne?”
She didn’t like his sly tone, nor the way he spoke about Mihir. He must definitely be one of the board members who were not pro Mihir.
She lifted her nose. “Sorry, I don’t accept drinks from strangers. Also, Mihir won’t make me wait too long, because unlike other women, I already have his attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Those ice-blue eyes hardened a fraction. “Bold and beautiful—now I get why he’s not been able to get over you.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I watched him dance with you earlier. Oh, he’s definitely not over you. Quite interesting, really.”
“It’s not.”
Her gut clenched in warning. She turned to move away, but his next words froze her. “Ananya Mehra. It’s good to finally meet the woman from Mihir’s past.”
Her jaw dropped as her mind spun furiously. Who was this man? How did he know about Mihir and her being together in the past? She could count on her fingers the number of people privy to that detail, and none of them were here tonight.
The man laughed, the sound cold and harsh. “I can see your journalist mind is getting curious by the second, Ananya. Tell me, how do you feel when you look at him now? Aren’t you repulsed by that ugly scar?”
Her blood boiled at his words. “That scar is merely a mark on his skin. It doesn’t change who he is. If at all, that scar makes him a warrior for facing and surviving his trauma. And frankly, I like it. It just makes him look sexier. Hotter. Mihir is flawless, every part of him, including the scar.”
The man smirked. “Well, well. I can see that the fire burns both ways.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
He held a hand out. “Dance with me and find out.”
His hand reached for her. Before she could back a step, a large hand shot out and twisted the other man’s outstretched hand. Mihir appeared beside her, his whole body vibrating with fury.
“Touch her, and I’ll kill you, Ivan,” Mihir gritted.
Shock made her head spin. This was Ivan Oshnov? Mihir’s adopted cousin was here? How?
“Go ahead; make a scene. I dare you to,” Ivan goaded Mihir. He shed his mask, and Ananya finally looked into the face of the man responsible for terrorizing them all. Tall, blonde, and well-built, Ivan looked like a regular European, with sharp features and a square jaw. The darkness in eyes, however, confirmed the evil lurking inside him.
Beside her, Mihir’s shoulders bunched. He pulled off his mask with his other hand, and she finally saw how angry he was. His features were contorted with rage, his eyes glittering dangerously.
All around them, people were staring. Ivan smirked cruelly. Fucking bastard. This was what he wanted. He wanted to create a scene to ruin Mihir’s reputation here amongst all these important people. And Mihir was two seconds away from hitting him, and thus destroying everything he had built over the years.
Hadn’t he just told her that the board had believed him when he’d informed them how Ivan had tried to hurt everyone related to Mihir? If Mihir hit Ivan now, he would look like the bad one, and the scales would shift in favor of Ivan. Besides, they were standing in the UK embassy. Mihir getting into a fight with Ivan would become an international incident, one he couldn’t afford right now, especially when the world was applauding his success with the UK government.
She had to do something. She wasn’t going to let him lose control. Not at all.