Russia hadn’t changed.

It seemed, to Vladimir, that it never really changed. It was always the same place he had been plucked from as a child. Chill, frosty and covered in white for most of the year - at least in St. Petersburg. The moment they landed, a rush of nostalgia almost overwhelmed him. He didn’t miss this place, per say. As a child, Russia held nothing but pain for him - he had been glad to escape.

Luckily, growing up with a father like Jackson Kensley had given him the opportunity to relearn all of his roots. As with all his children, Jackson encouraged Vladimir to return to Russia - to discover a love for his homeland. He never lost his language, and after his first, albeit reluctant, return visit at the age of eighteen, Vladimir had been almost every year.

He learned to enjoy the city that had almost been his demise - to appreciate the beauty of the architecture, the warmth of the people, and the beauty of his heritage - even if it had taken him almost twenty years to get to this point.

At thirty-five, he welcomed his trips to his homeland - he considered in an extension of his home, despite the painful memories he had.

Charlotte, however, was seeing all of this for the first time, and Vlad found himself entertained by the sheer awe on her face. The moment they stepped from the airport into the decidedly frosty air, she wanted to see everything and anything. Vlad occupied himself with finding the car that had been sent for them and greeting the driver in Russian. Charlotte was staring at the snow-covered peaks in the distance and at the crush of cars going through airport drive. Of course, all the writing was in Russian, and she inspected a sign just outside the terminal door closely, as if inspection was enough to teach her to read it.

“Charlotte.” When he called her name, she whirled, pink-cheeked at being caught in her fascination. Vlad barely managed to keep from smiling. “Let’s go.”

She was over to the car in a trice - and as she slipped inside, her frigid skin brushed against his throat. While he frowned at how cold she was, his rebellious body reacted in a far less appropriate way, and he had to arrange himself carefully when he sat. “Didn’t you pack warm clothes?” He admonished her, even as she pressed her nose to the window curiously.

“Yeah,” her voice came back muffled, “In my luggage.”

Vladimir made a low sound of frustration in his throat. “Charlotte, you’re going to make yourself sick - and that won’t help anyone.”

“Aww,” She glanced over her shoulder at him with a teasing smile. “Are you worried about me, Mr. Kensley? Perish the thought.” She had teased him like this before - and usually, Vlad merely ignored her. She was remarkably child-like for a thirty-year old - something that both drew him in and annoyed him all at once.

But this time wasn’t like the others.

He reached over and took a gently, but firm hold on her arm, dragging her across the back seat and up against his side so he could reach her better. Without any other pretense, Vladimir’s hands covered her shoulders and he began to rub up and down her bare arms vigorously. What the hell did she think she was doing, wearing a tank top in this weather? She really did have little to no regard for her own health. “Where,” he demanded, in a tone that booked little argument, “Is your damned coat?”

Charlotte stiffened immediately - and Vlad was surprised to see that he’d intimidated her - she, the unintimidatable. “I…” She managed after a moment of his vigorous ministrations. “It’s in my duffel. In the trunk.”

Vlad merely exhaled an exasperated sigh, sweeping his suit jacket from her shoulders to drape over her shoulders. “Take that for now. But you’re changing as soon as we get to the hotel - no arguments.”

“...Ok.” Charlotte merely peeked at him out of the corner of her gaze, her expression all at once tentative. It was completely and totally unlike her, and, for a moment, Vladimir feared he might have gone a bit too far.

It was impulsive, really. After finding out that she had literally worked herself to the point of exhaustion in LA, was it really so strange that he would worry that she’d fall short in other areas. Certainly, she was more than capable where her work was concerned...but in other areas? Vladimir was beginning to realize that Charlotte wasn’t first on the list of her own priorities - and that made him angry for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Even so, her tentative tone was enough to make him want to apologize - the words even rose to hips lips. Before he could release them, however, Charlotte said something else. Something that stopped him in his tracks. “Thank you.” The words were so soft he almost missed them - he might have, if he hadn’t been so damned absorbed in her. But he didn’t.

Vladimir found himself swallowing thickly. He could deal with her yelling at him - arguing with him, laughing at him and even teasing him. But thanking him? That was a bit much. It played too well into the changing dynamic between them - a dynamic that he was dead set on beating off for as long as he breathed.

Or at least as long as his resolve held up.

Thankfully, he didn’t have too much time to linger on her thanks, as Vlad was soon back to watching Charlotte marvel at almost every sight that raced by their windows. They passed the luxuriously appointed Hermitage museum - a sea of gold and white - along with the Winter Palace, where the Romanovs had fallen from power, and St. Isaac’s Cathedral, spiraling into the sky.

When he was a boy, these places had seemed to belong to an entirely different world - but now, he had visited each and every one of them. He had overcome his past, grateful for the new life his parents had given him. Without them, he certainly wouldn’t be where he was now.

And that included sitting a mere twelve inches away from a woman who was temptation incarnate.

As lovely as he believed the sites of St. Petersburg to be, Charlotte was practically agog. She took in the architectural wonders with an open mouth and wide, staring honey-colored eyes. Vladimir remembered that she was seeing all of this for the first time and busied himself telling her the names of streets and the more famous sites. Charlotte did nothing but nod, too wrapped up in the experience to say anything more than a few words.

After about forty minutes of driving through heavy traffic, they reached the Four Seasons Hotel at the heart of the city. It had been fashioned from the old Lion Palace, and when the car slowed to a stop before it, the sound that left Charlotte could be defined as nothing less than a squeal of delight.

She darted from the car before he could say a word, staring up at the huge structure almost reverently as she clutched his coat to her shoulders. It was only about ten degrees above freezing, despite the fact that it was well into May, and her sharp breaths of excitement frosted on the evening air.

As he helped the driver pull their luggage from the car, Vlad let his lips quirk upward in an unfettered smile.

It was refreshing to see someone so absorbed in their art that they were utterly and completely consumed by it. That didn’t happen very much these days, but Vlad had known Charlotte was just the type the moment she had first argued for the validity of her plans in his office. Now, that seemed so long ago, and the rampant wonder in her eyes made his insides twist in some unknown emotion - unrelenting in its intensity.

At that precise moment, she was the exact opposite of polished and prepared. He had taken her from her house in a thin-t-shirt, leggings and sneakers, and she still wore them now. Her hair was mussed and she was wrapped in a jacket several sizes too large for her - but Charlotte cared little.

A look that might have been unflattering on other women only seemed to enhance her beauty. The flush of her cheeks - the way her eyes gleamed and her full lips parted as she took in every stimulus she possibly could...it was remarkable how lovely she was.

“Mr. Kensley!” He snapped from his reverie to see the hotel manager, Yuri Vasiliev, hurrying down the main steps to greet him. Every time Vlad - or any of his family, for that matter, came to St. Petersburg, they always stayed at the Four Seasons. By now, Vasiliev always prepared to greet them warmly whenever they arrived - a gesture that Vladimir found he appreciate more than he might like to admit. “Welcome back to St. Petersburg!” He extended this welcome in Russian as he wrung Vladimir’s hand enthusiastically, so when Charlotte turned, she looked at the both of them in confusion.

“Always good to be back, Yuri. Is everything in order?”

“Of course.” Vasiliev was an earnest, balding man in his mid-fifties with a ready smile. Vlad had, on several occasions, met his wife, who reminded him of what his mother might have been like had circumstances been better during his childhood. “I have prepared the penthouse suite for you, and a deluxe suite for your guest.” His gaze slid to Charlotte, who merely provided a small smile and a wave, clueless as to what they were discussing. If Yuri found her appearance strange in the least, he didn’t say a single word. Instead, he merely smiled at her in return.

“Welcome to St. Petersburg, Ms. Gardner. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Charlotte beamed, moving forward to slide her hand from one of Vladimir’s sleeves to shake his outstretched one. “Thank you. You have a gorgeous city.”

“I’m sure it will be improved by your adding to its skyline.” At the compliment, Charlotte reddened visibly, looking away.

“You’re far too kind.”

How the hell was every man on the planet so much more adept at complimenting women than Vlad himself? Of course, Yuri had always been a charmer. Even Vlad’s mother thought so on the few occasions she came to visit. The man was a hotel manager, so, of course, it was his job to charm; but that didn’t mean Vlad was any less jealous at how easily he elicited a smile from Charlotte. “I’m sure you are both weary from your trip. Please come out of the cold.” He gestured to two hotel employees who, between them, scooped up their luggage and followed the three into the hotel.

When the entered the building, of course, Charlotte paused for a full five minutes to take in the grandeur of the foyer. She stared up at the intricately sculpted ceiling and sighed in pleasure at the gilded trim and marble floors while Yuri beamed in pride. “It’s absolutely breathtaking,’ She breathed, grinning at him.

No matter how many times he had seen that smile of hers, Vlad was never as immune as he thought - and he was constantly fighting the need to have it directed at him.

“Constructed almost two hundred years ago,” Yuri answered her with grave pride, “Though, of course, now the building is equipped with all the amenities one could ever need.” Charlotte followed him like an eager puppy, eager to learn more about the building, as Vladimir hung back, torn between amusement and envy.

It was almost enough to make him wish he knew more about architecture. There was a clear path there to Charlotte’s attentions…

Even if he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about pursuing them.

About thirty minutes after they entered the hotel, they actually made it to the fourteenth floor and their rooms. By now, Yuri was fully invested in Charlotte’s visible obsession with the hotel and was commenting on everything from the carpet to the wood paneling on the walls. When he opened the door to her suite, however, he fell silent, allowing the young woman to take in the full majesty of the room.

And that was exactly what the redhead did.

She took a few steps into the luxuriously appointed suite, taking in the gorgeous chandelier over the sitting area, the gleaming kitchenette and the jaw-dropping view of St. Petersburg beyond. Wordlessly, she ran her hands over the smooth leather of the furniture and the brilliant sheen of the gold and mahogany wood paneling on the wall. Then, she headed over to the window to look out open the city without speaking a word.

It was like she was lost in her own little world.

Chuckling softly, Yuri prompted her lowly. “I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Ms. Gardner?”

“Oh yes…” Charlotte breathed - and, to his shock, Vladimir thought he heard the edge of tears in her voice. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

He cleared his throat, breaking free of his own haze. Watching her was a little too absorbing for him - and it would be better if he gained the upper hand sooner rather than later. “Charlotte, we need to be at the Dansk center tomorrow afternoon, but I’d like to get breakfast and discuss things. Meet me in the restaurant downstairs around nine.”

“Mmmhm.” He couldn’t tell if she heard him or not - she was so relentlessly absorbed in her surroundings that she might not have known if the world was ending around her.

“Goodnight, then.” She didn’t reply - and Vladimir didn’t quite expect her to. Instead, he merely followed Yuri from her suite before the elder man broke the silence with a soft laugh.

“She is quite in tune with her art, Ms. Gardner.”

That was certainly one way of putting it. “Indeed, she is. I only hope she can bring herself to leave her suite by tomorrow morning.”

Yuri smiled. “I’m sure that if you were to tempt her with the rest of the city, the two of you could come to an accord.”

“If all else fails.” It was the second time in twenty-four hours that Vlad found himself so restlessly irritated - the second time it was hard for him to put a finger on what irked him so relentlessly.

“You have the penthouse suite, as always, Mr. Kensley.” Yuri led the way down the hall to the corner and opened it for him. As impressive as the deluxe suite had been, the penthouse was even more so. Vlad was floored every time he saw it - the careful detail put into the work on the ceiling and walls, the impeccable placement of the furniture and the fresh flowers arranged in the sitting room. Though he was a man who liked his showers, he knew that a gigantic marble bathtub was waiting for him down the hall, all but trumpeting its charms.

But all of that seemed, somehow, diminished. “Thank you very much, Yuri. I’ll be getting a bit of rest now.” He was, perhaps, dismissing his old family friend with a bit too much abruptness, but Yuri, ever professional, said nothing. He merely inclined his head respectfully.

“Certainly sir. I’ll see that your usual papers are brought up tomorrow morning. Have a pleasant evening.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Vlad alone with his thoughts.

Which only made his irritation worse. It was, he realized, as if the moment they landed in Russia, Charlotte had become a different person. Everything and everyone enchanted her - except for him, of course. He was still her overbearing, logical-beyond-all-else superior - so it made sense that he would hold even less appeal for her now.

Appeal.

Months ago, the very thought would have made him laugh. Who the almighty hell cared about appeal? They were here to do a job. Charlotte had never been to Russia, so it made sense that she would be enchanted by everything around her. Was he going to be jealous of the entirety of St. Petersburg simply because she liked it so much? It was ridiculously childlike.

And yet, here he was. Wanting a woman he shouldn’t want, and completely out-of-control in a situation that demanded nothing but his strictest, coldest attentions.

As his brother Ethan might say, he was very clearly up shit creek, without a paddle in sight.

 

**

It took Charlotte quite a while to come down from the high of being halfway across the world. She lay awake in the heavenly bed in her suite for half the night, convinced she was going to wake up back in LA, still working for the same firm that had hired her right out of school.

Still miserable.

After a number of painful pinches, she accepted that this was really happening to her. She was really in St. Petersburg, about to work on the second biggest project she had ever tackled, and she was really in the old Lion Palace, which had been nearly flawlessly renovated into one of the most beautiful hotels she’d ever had the pleasure of setting foot in.

Kensley Enterprises, she realized, must like to treat their employees in style. This suite couldn’t have been cheap, and she had been assured that all her expenses were going to be taken care of.

Truth be told, she’d done her best to sleep on the plane trip over because being in a private jet was a bit much for her to handle. It was a thing of luxury, with its comfortable leather seats, kitchen, and even a working shower. That, of course, she had taken advantage of, though she had no choice but to slip right back into the clothes she’d worn before when she was done.

Though she had known that Vladimir Kensley, Jackson Kensley, and the entire Kensley family were all rolling in dough, this was the first time she had seen any of that come to bear. That jet probably cost more than she would ever make in her life, and she didn’t even want to imagine how much this hotel room might have cost.

But she did.

She thought about the hotel room, the jet, the amazingly kind Yuri Vasiliev and everything that awaited her here because it was easier to think about all of that than it was to remember the way that Vladimir Kensley had all but yanked her away from the window - into the heat of his body - and forcibly warmed her.

Charlotte had absolutely no idea what to do when it happened. All at once, his hands were moving briskly over her skin, her entire body had broken out in goosebumps, and desire rose so thick in her throat that her mouth dried.

He smelled good - far too good for a man who had been travelling for the past eight hours. And despite not wearing a thick coat of his own, he was ungodly warm.

There was no way she was going to be able to delude herself into not wanting him for three whole weeks. Not if she was expected to work closely with him every day. When she was as close to him as she had been in the car, all her bluster deserted her in favor of raw desire, and it was all she could do to talk to him.

Because all she could think about was him kissing her the way he’d kissed her in his office - and this time, they wouldn’t stop.

With a low groan, she covered her face with a pillow. Maybe she could call Lila every day and pour her frustration into her best friend...but that, she knew, wasn’t fair to the masseuse. Lila had her own issues to worry about, and here, Charlotte knew she would have to spend the majority of her time convincing the good people of Dansk that they’d made the right choice.

Jumping Vladimir in front of him definitely wouldn’t be perpetuating that ideal.

But she would manage. Somehow, she would manage the three weeks, and when they got back to LA, it would probably only be another two or three months before they hardly needed her at the jobsite. She would have done her duty, she’d have the money she needed to start her firm, and she’d be through dealing with Vladimir fucking Kensley.

But she still had three weeks.

Three weeks of being in the same room as him, of taking his orders and hearing that already ridiculously sexy voice of his speaking in low, fluent Russian. God, for all she knew, he was just counting to a hundred, but it was enough to wet her panties straight through.

Only three weeks. Only three weeks.

God help her.

 

Charlotte spent a decidedly sleepless night before rising early to take advantage of the amenities in her suite. She ran the huge bathtub full of hot water and luxuriated for over an hour, scrubbing herself clean of all the travel grime from the previous day.  It took her a while to decide what to wear, but she decided that she would change into something more suitable for work after breakfast. She donned a long-sleeved black top, the heaviest black jacket she had brought, and a pair of slacks with pumps before assessing her reflection critically in the mirror.

She caught herself about a minute in, her full mouth pulling into a frown. What on earth was she doing? This wasn’t a date. Vladimir Kensley didn’t give a damn how she looked - and even if he did, she reminded herself, all those little cogs in his brain could turn his sex drive on and off at will. He was, as he’d so keenly reminded her, an adult. One kiss between them meant nothing to him - the fact that the sexual tension between them could be cut with a knife meant even less.

Which meant that she was left to bear the brunt of it all.

Lucky her.

She reached the dining room downstairs at ten minutes til nine and was unsurprised to see Vladimir already there. He stood near a table, deep in conversation with the hotel manager, and the young woman took a stuttering breath as she listened to his voice rise and fall effortlessly over the rough, Slavic syllables that comprised the Russian language.

Fuck. She couldn’t do this. Not when she could smell the clean, crisp scent of him from five feet away, when she couldn’t tear her eyes off the huge breadth of his shoulders or the way his large hands curled into the back of the chair he leaned on.

The man was sex incarnate, and he didn’t seem to give a damn.

Despite the way her pride prickled, Charlotte turned to flee. She needed another five minutes - she needed her second wind. But her hopes were dashed in seconds.

“Good morning, Miss Gardner.” Before she even got two steps, Mr. Vasiliev’s heavily accented voice reached her ears in an enthusiastic greeting. “I trust you slept well.”

She was trapped.

Forcing a smile onto her face, Charlotte turned to meet his gaze. “I did, thank you.”

“Good Morning, Charlotte.” Was it some kind of superpower that all Vladimir had to do was say her name and her knees turned into fucking jelly?

“Morning.” She managed, making her way to the table to grasp at it before she fell down. Vladimir pulled out the chair he was clinging to, and she realized that he expected her to sit in it. She didn’t sit so much as collapse into the damn thing, his scent all but enveloping her in heady masculinity.

“What will you have for breakfast then?” Vasiliev asked them both, eager to please.

Thankfully, Vladimir rounded the table to sit across from her before he answered, and Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. “We’ll have the blintzes and buterbrody, along with a pot of Earl Gray, please.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure what either of those were, even though blintzes sounded vaguely familiar. “Sure.” She continued smiling at Yuri as she forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll put the order in right away then.” With a congenial bobbing of his head, the elder man headed off towards what Charlotte could only presume were the kitchens. When she turned to face Vladimir again, to her shock, he was frowning at her. And not only frowning...he might as well have been downright scowling.

“What?” She couldn’t help but ask, her heart in her throat. What on earth had she done now?

Vladimir’s gaze dropped to her shoulders. “Is that the warmest coat you brought?”

Charlotte looked down at it in surprise. It was the ski jacket she’d brought for the one-time Lila insisted that they step out of their comfort zone. She’d ended up getting the entirety of two afternoons of use out of it before she shoved it into the back of her closet. That had been close to three years ago. To be honest, she was surprised the damn thing still fit -and it certainly seemed warm enough.

“Well...yeah…” She ventured sheepishly, knowing, even before she opened her mouth, that wasn’t what Vladimir wanted to hear. His frown, if anything, deepened even further.

“You’re going to freeze.” His almost disgusted tone made her eyes widen at its severity. “I told you to pack for cold weather.”

“Well, excuse me,” As cowed as she was by his sudden seriousness, Charlotte wasn’t going to let him push her around unfettered, “But I was born and raised in LA. We really don’t know about cold weather.”

“It’s Russia.” He deadpanned, his eyes narrow. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures.”

What the hell was wrong with him? Yesterday, he was almost relentlessly nice to her. He hadn’t woken her up before leaving her apartment because he was concerned she wasn’t getting enough sleep - which meant he must have carried her. He’d explained all the sites she saw as they made their way downtown to the hotel in St. Petersburg. What had changed between yesterday and today?

“Who the hell pissed in your cornflakes?” She found herself asking, more than a little irate now. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

“No,” he replied crisply, blue eyes frosty, “I’m merely continually shocked at your inability to follow direction.”

Oh, now she was pissed. After a night of tossing and turning over the man, now he decided to be nasty to her? Two could play at that game.

“Direction? Jesus, Vladimir, the last time I checked, I was your colleague. If you were going to start going all super-superior on me, you could have dropped a warning at least,” she hissed, trying to make it look as though she was pouring over her menu. The only problem with her ruse was that it was in Russian, and they had already ordered - but Charlotte was so angry she hardly cared.

“Charlotte, can you really blame me? After seeing the way you neglect your health, I find myself unable to ignore your carelessness any longer.”

She stared at him, absolutely flummoxed. Her health? No way he was going to try to make this about her health.  “I’m in perfectly fine health,” she retorted, her voice barely above a whisper, “Except that maybe my blood is running a little hot just now, sir. Even if my jacket is what has you so wrapped up, what the hell are you going to do about it? Hold a grudge for three weeks? This is all I brought, so you’re going to have to deal with it.”

She didn’t know what kind of game they were playing now, but this clearly had nothing to do with the damn coat.

Or did it?

Suddenly, Charlotte wasn’t so sure, because Vladimir was shoving back from the table and gesturing to a nearby waiter. The young man hurried over to him for his customer to bark a short command in Russian that sent him scurrying. “What did you tell him?” She demanded almost immediately, now wary of the dangerous look in his face.

Even as angry as she was, as angry as he somehow was, she couldn’t help from being aroused at how sexily authoritative he could be when he got a handle on something. “I cancelled our order,” he returned, his voice taut, as he rounded the table to take hold of her arm and haul her unceremoniously to her feet. “We’re going out.”

Out? Out where? She had barely dressed for breakfast! “Vladimir,” Charlotte suddenly found her voice unsteady as panic crept in. “Where are we going? What the hell has gotten into you?” She kept her voice low in an attempt to keep from drawing attention to them, but several people were already looking anyway.

She didn’t, after all, want to give the wrong impression. It wasn’t like he was hurting her - far from it. But this wasn’t like the Vladimir she knew at all. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him lose his temper. In fact, the most genuine outpouring of emotion she’d ever witnessed from the man before this was the little episode in his office…

But Vladimir didn’t answer her - at least not right away. He dragged her right back through the restaurant and into the elevator bay, which was, thankfully deserted. When he turned to her, his expression was both intense and unreadable, and Charlotte inhaled sharply. She thought, for a brief moment, that he might yell at her. But when the dark-haired man spoke, his tone was strangely soft and a bit uneven.

“Charlotte...I’m sorry. Look...I had a difficult night. I didn’t get much rest and... well, now that we’re here in Russia, I have to be honest: I’m worried about you.”

Her eyes widened slightly. It wasn’t as if Lila didn’t worry about her all the time - but this? This was something entirely different. Vladimir hardly talked about anything he didn’t think served a bigger purpose. Hell, their “getting to know one another” had never really counted toward friendship because she had always imagined he had an ulterior motive. The logistics in his brain were still ticking away, trying to discover how best to understand her.

But this didn’t seem like that. This was something else entirely. “You’ve taken on another project.” She started to open her mouth in argument, but Vladimir forged on.  “And while I have nothing but congratulations for you in that arena, your roommate confided in me that you’ve been neglecting meals. And sleep. As long as you’re within a stone’s throw of me, I won’t allow this to continue.” The young woman blinked, wondering what was coming next. The man had thrown her for a complete loop. “We’re going to get you a new coat.”

Ok, now she couldn’t keep quiet. “Vladimir, I appreciate your concern, but I-”

“You need to keep warm. You need to eat, and you need to sleep. If you get sick in one of the coldest environments in the world, it will help neither of us - especially you.”

For a long moment, Charlotte just stared at him. A large part of her could hardly believe what she’d just heard. She thought that little speech might end with him telling her that if she was out of commission she couldn’t work, and she would be useless. On the contrary, he had just, in all essentiality, told her that he was watching her. Just her.

She took a deep breath, at a loss for words. Vladimir’s deep blue eyes burned into hers, and, for the life of her, she couldn’t look away. This was what she had been afraid of - being so close to him that she couldn’t ignore his warmth. She couldn’t ignore his scent, his intensity...and she certainly couldn’t blindly swallow the way her body reacted.

And she certainly couldn’t ignore what her mind was screaming at her.

In that moment, she was so confused that Charlotte could do nothing but follow her impulses. Swallowing thickly, she reached up to cup his smoothly shaven face and rose onto her toes to peck him very softly and carefully on the mouth.

It was only the barest contact - she lingered for perhaps two or three seconds, tasting the minty remains of the toothpaste he used that morning. She felt the firmness of shoulders beneath her fingertips, heard the way his breath rushed from him and, for the briefest of moments, his heavy hand grasped at her waist and she knew he wanted more. God knew she wanted more.

But now wasn’t the time or the place. Perhaps there would never be a time and place.

What Charlotte wanted, more than anything in the world, was for Vlad to stop analyzing her.  To stop trying to put two and two together, to stop depending on that brilliant mind of his to take him everywhere and to simply feel.

“Ok.” She breathed, moving out of his grip swiftly - before her body switched on the autopilot and everything got a lot more heated. “A coat. That’s fine.”

It took Vladimir a full minute to snap out of his reverie. His hand still hovered in the air where she had been only seconds earlier a moment before it snapped into a fist and his gaze cleared. When he raised his eyes to hers once more, the desire she saw there was enough to take her breath away.

But, as quickly as it affected her, Vladimir’s mask of control slipped back into place. “Alright.”  He stepped out of the alcove, running a hand through hair still damp from the shower. “Come with me.” Now, instead of taking her arm, he offered her his own. It was still hardly appropriate for what they were supposed to be. She, an architect and he, her boss.  But, Charlotte took his arm anyway and let him lead her down the front steps and into the chill morning.

He was right. It was cold - freezing, in fact. Charlotte might not have noticed the previous day because she was so wrapped up in the city before her, but now it was rather hard to ignore the frigid air creeping in through the lining of her ski jacket. Automatically, she huddled closer to Vladimir.

When he glanced down at her, she could have sworn the corner of his mouth kicked up in a knowing smirk before he raised his hand to hail a taxi.

Of course, when Charlotte agreed to buy a coat, she hadn’t expected the man to take her into the heart of St. Petersburg’s upscale shopping district. She had hoped there might be shops close to the hotel - somewhere she could get a fairly cheap, thick and sturdy garment. Instead, within twenty minutes, she found herself facing lines of designer shops - only some of which she was familiar with.

Before she could protest, Vladimir was urging her towards a Prada storefront, and her eyes were wide as saucers. Perhaps she might have protested a little more if she hadn’t still been relishing the memory of how his mouth felt on hers...and luxuriating in the fact that he seemed, for the most part, to be taking the entire affair in stride.

At the very least he hadn’t dropped the line about both of them being adults again. She knew very well how adult she was. That was what had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place.

The moment they stepped into the shop, they were swarmed by at least three saleswomen, all dressed impeccably in black. They were, Charlotte noticed, all tall, slim, and beautifully blonde - whether that blonde was natural or bottle, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that all three women positively drooled over Vladimir - she was surprised their jaws didn’t hit the fucking floor.

The moment they reached him, they immediately started babbling in rapid Russian - she could have been chopped liver for all the attention they paid her.

Charlotte felt something awful, hot and uncomfortable welling in her stomach. She had never been the violent type - at least not physically - but at that moment, she would have been perfectly fine snatching every single blonde hair from their three collective heads. She stood back, glaring daggers at the throng of people before her - and she would have marched right out of the store had Vladimir not chosen that moment to look back at her, his expression far from impressed at all the attention the blondes lavished on him. “Charlotte, come here please?”

She didn’t want to. The moment the three sales women laid eyes on her, their gazes turned sour enough to wither even the heartiest of weeds. But she’d be damned if she’d cower now. These bitches were all but challenging her. Vladimir might not technically be hers, but he wasn’t theirs either, shared language or not.

Chin in the air, she made her way over to them, her gaze challenging them to say a single word about her - even in Russian.

“We’re looking for a winter coat,” Vladimir instructed them, in English now, “And perhaps a few other winter effects.”

“Of course,” the tallest blonde all but gushed in a thickly accented tone. “We’d be delighted to find something to suit your…. wife.” Charlotte opened her mouth to correct her - she was sure the blonde would be happy to hear the details - but Vlad’s hand on her wrist stayed her words. She glanced at him once, incredulously, and he met her gaze with an incremental shake of his head.

He didn’t want them to know she wasn’t his wife? Why the hell not? It was only natural that these women would look at him differently if they assumed he’d married an American. Why wouldn’t he want to bask in the glow of their attentions? Even as she was confused, Charlotte found herself oddly pleased.

He was pretending to be her husband.

She had no idea why - she really didn’t think her minute kiss had scrambled his brain that much.

As the women left to begin pulling things from the shelves, she inched closer to him, gazing up at him skeptically a moment before she tried a whispered inquiry. “So now we’re married?”

Vladimir merely sighed before giving her a surprisingly uncomfortable look. “Don’t give me away? They’re like hawks, and I’ve no intention of flattering them the way they seem to think they deserve.”

“What, because they’re condescending bitches?” The comment left her before she could even think about it, and Charlotte’s face reddened the moment she realized how callous she must have sounded. “I mean...I just wanted to point out that…”

“They’re the kind of women I once thought were my type.” Vladimir interrupted her, his expression contemplative as he watched the three attendants gather their treasure from the shelves.

Charlotte’s mouth all but fell open in shock. “What, them?” She returned in a low hiss, “Those stuck-up, overly coiffed brats? You can’t be serious.”

“Are you really so surprised?” He returned wryly, his brow arched in inquiry. “I like things predictable, Charlotte. I like to know what I’m getting into, and I like to be able to see all possible outcomes. At least,” he paused for a moment, his brow knitting together thoughtfully. “I thought I did. Once.”

Charlotte found her throat drying in odd anticipation. “And now? What kind of woman is your type?” That, she knew, was none of her business. But he’d started this, and she was damn well going to finish it.

Vladimir merely chuckled knowingly. “Well, for the next little while, it’s you, isn’t it?” Charlotte made a small sound of surprise as his arm slid around her waist to pull her close against him - far too close for comfort.

The entire world was going to hell in a handbasket. That was three times Vladimir Kensley had touched her voluntarily in the past hour, and if he didn’t stop, they were going to be in serious trouble. Perhaps her impulsive little show in the elevator bay had done more than she thought. She had meant to shock him - to catch him off guard.

And now he was doing the exact same to her. They were supposed to be concentrating on killing the attraction between them - it was quite obvious now that it wasn’t working. “Freckly, gangly, and completely tactless? Well, thank you, Mr. Kensley, for lowering your standards.” She teased him, resisting the urge to kiss him again - just to see how he’d react.

If Vladimir meant to say anything else, his reply was cut off by the return of the saleswomen, each holding more clothing than Charlotte might have thought their skinny arms able to carry. “Please,” their forced smiles amused the redhead now more than they upset her, “Come right this way.”

And she did, unable to help the way her lips curved upwards in triumph.

Unfortunately, Charlotte’s smile didn’t last for long. If she remembered correctly - and she was sure she did - the entire point of this outing was supposed to be for her to buy a coat. One coat. These women were plying her with literal mountains of clothing options, and the price tags on some of them were enough to make her faintly ill.

While she could safely afford perhaps one or two pieces, she didn’t know how she felt about splurging spontaneously like this - especially on things that made her look so...well...it was more what Lila would consider sexy. Everything was leather or silk, completely form-fitting, and more revealing than she thought winter clothing had any right to be.

Worse, she couldn’t even try on the clothing in peace. As the saleswomen were convinced that Vladimir was her husband, they paraded her out to show off each and every piece, which, as far as Charlotte was concerned, was a serious as baring her soul before the man.

There was a reason she didn’t wear things like the alluring, “sophisticated” getup Lila insisted upon at her first formal meeting with Vladimir. It was because she didn’t like the idea of making herself intentionally attractive for him. She knew what that meant, and it was worse than getting naked - at least in her opinion. She was baiting him -drawing him in.

Though she couldn’t deny she enjoyed the flagrant want on his face every time she was paraded before him in her skin-tight outfits. He stared at her from where he was seated on a posh leather couch, one leg crossed carelessly over the other, and Charlotte felt herself flushing to the very roots of her fiery-colored hair. It didn’t help, she supposed, that he looked pretty damned delicious himself in that tailored suit of his, under a thick wool coat that suited him perfectly. It was really no wonder the women had been all over him.

She wanted to be all over him - though she supposed that was conveyed perfectly enough when she strutted her stuff in a dress that seemed to be made entirely of buttery, gray suede. Feelings of nervousness and pure sex appeal warred within her almost continuously for the hour they were in the shop, and Charlotte told herself that, at the very least, if she and Vladimir were supposed to be husband and wife, at least they were giving off a rampantly sexual vibe.

After being subjected to no less than ten outfits, Charlotte finally called mercy and redonned her own clothes before stepping from the dressing room-still pink-cheeked. The only thing she was even considering actually purchasing was a thick, shockingly white wool coat lined with faux fur that was luxuriously warm and soft. It was twelve hundred dollars, and the notion of spending so much money was intimidating, to say the very least. But it wasn’t as if Charlotte hadn’t been getting paid for all the hours she was working for Kensley enterprises. This would be her first gift to herself...if she ever got over all that money leaving her bank account at once.

To her surprise, however, when she came back onto the sales floor, she found Vladimir already in deep conversation with the lead saleswoman. On the counter besides them were two elegantly appointed Prada bags that were visibly full to the brim. Frowning, she made her way over to the counter to speak with them.

“I’m sorry,” she tried to be as magnanimous as she could - a stretch, considering how she’d been greeted when she entered the shop, “But I didn’t want everything. I was just thinking about the coat…”

“It’s all been taken care of.”  The blonde turned to look at her with an envious, wistful expression. “You are so lucky to have a husband who cares for you so. You should take good care of him.”

The statement left Charlotte completely confused. Already taken care of? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

But Vladimir was already reaching into one of the bags to retrieve the coat. He smoothed the slight wrinkles from where it had been folded and held it out for her. The price tag, it appeared, had been cut away. Which meant it was already bought. “Come darling.” He could already see the rebellion brewing in her eyes - the combination of shock and horror, and there was enough warning in his tone to keep her from exploding - but only just.

Somewhat stiffly, she worked her arms into the sleeves and allowed the dark-haired man to fasten the buttons over her front. Before meeting him, she hadn’t known it was possible to be simultaneously pissed as hell at someone even as you wanted to tear their clothes off.

It was a novel sensation, to say the least - but Vladimir seemed to have no qualms about inciting it in her.

They had barely stepped back into the frigid air before she was whirling on him, incensed. “What have you done?” She demanded, gazing, shell-shocked, at the two bags of clothing he held.

“I’ve bought you clothes.” He replied, as if it was the smallest thing in the world - and then, at her obviously upset expression, he breathed a long sigh. “You’re upset.”

It wasn’t a question. “Damn right I’m upset!” She insisted, feeling her cheeks heat. “That must have been hundreds, no ...thousands of dollars! I don’t need clothes!”

“There are a great many things we don’t need,” he countered, his tone just as steady as hers was erratic, “But I thought it a crime to pass up outfits that did your figure such justice.”

Her figure. Her figure? Charlotte had already opened her mouth with a witty retort when the enormity of what he’d just said struck her and she fell completely silent.

In plain English, Vladimir Kensley was telling her that he’d brought her thousands of dollars’ worth of name brand clothes because he liked the way she looked in them. He liked looking at her. “You…” She finally managed, the wind somewhat stolen from her sails. “You want me to wear that stuff.”

His mouth quirked in a wry smirk. “That is what clothes are for, aren’t they, Charlotte? Wearing?”

She scowled, slapping his arm briefly and wincing at how much the cold, along with the solidness there, combined to make her palm sting.  “Vladimir Kensley,” she finally replied, staring at him steadily. “Are you trying to tell me I’m pretty?”

If she wanted him to give her a compliment, she was going to have to set the damn thing up for him. That was just the kind of man Vladimir was - and damn if it didn’t intrigue her as much as it frustrated her.

He seemed to consider her for a moment, his intense gaze roaming over her from head to toe. Though she was wearing a coat that might as well be a piece of art, Charlotte, who had done nothing with her hair that morning, who was wearing no makeup and had sworn to herself that she didn’t give a damn what Vladimir Kensley thought about her, was suddenly self-conscious.

“You’re gorgeous, Charlotte.” His words took her breath away - and for a moment, Charlotte thought she might have actually forgotten how to speak. Gorgeous? She hadn’t even known Vladimir had the wherewithal to find women gorgeous. Appealing or sexually satisfying, certainly, but this...this was completely unexpected.

She swallowed thickly, struggling to remember even the simplest of words.  “Did you expect anything less?” Vladimir finally continued, reaching down to cup her cheek in a large, surprisingly warm hand, “Isn’t it obvious that I’m at my wits end trying to resist your decidedly singular charms?” When his thumb brushed over her lower lip leisurely, she shuddered. She couldn’t help it. “You’re not making it easy.” His tone now lowered to a soft growl that sent waves of molten desire trickling downwards to pool in her lower belly. “But if I can’t have you in my bed, I’ll have to be happy knowing you’re wearing clothes I bought you. Are you really going to rob me of that pleasure?”

She could barely breathe now.

Vladimir was the only man she had ever met - in her entire thirty years on planet earth - who could so deftly switch personas. One moment, everything was cool, precis logic. The next, he was pretending to be her husband and telling her he got off knowing she wore slinky dresses he purchased for her.

It was enough to make her head spin.

“No.” She finally replied, pressing her thighs together as her womb all but clenched at the quiet sensuality in his voice. “I won’t.”

“How very kind of you.” His hand left her face to smooth over her shoulder. Any passers-by might have assumed that he was merely admiring the material of her coat. But Charlotte felt him moving his palm over her shoulders, squeezing - touching her. Wishing there were nothing but bare skin between them.

By the time he released her, she was just as aroused as if she’d woken from a particularly vivid dream, and he hadn’t even done anything. But the moment had passed. In a trice, Vladimir went back to being all business. “We should head over to the Dansk building. We’re running low on time to get there for the meeting.”

“Right!” She was glad of anything to say - anything at all that might help her forget how flagrantly they wanted one another. A business meeting would be welcome right now. And later...if Vladimir asked her to dinner, she might just wear one of the dresses he bought her. Just to give him the pleasure of her wearing it.

 

**

The meeting went off without a hitch. The men who ran the Dansk branch of Kensley Enterprises spoke perfect English, so Charlotte didn’t have to worry about a language barrier. When she laid before them the plans that she’d made, they reacted far differently than Vladimir had. Mind you, her design for Dansk wasn’t quite as outlandish. She’d done her best to incorporate at least a few tropes of Russian architecture to tie it to the surrounding buildings. She had, of course, been more cautious because it was her first international project.

But, apparently, she needn’t have worried. The executives were over the moon for her plans, and even referenced a few facets of the building in LA that they wanted to know if she could add.

Vladimir, for his part, did little more than supervise. He sat at the head of the table and watched the executives gush over the drawings she showed them. The building was already being prepared for renovations, and they would be ready to begin in as little as two days. Charlotte found herself swept up in their enthusiasm. It was the kind of response she’d often wondered if she would ever get from Vladimir - so she knew she should be enthused that she had gotten so lucky. After all, these men wanted few, if any, revisions to the material she set before them.

But, after Vladimir, she couldn’t help but think this was all surprisingly easy. Sure, the man was complicated, but he’d provided a challenge for her - one that she’d been eager to overcome; and the way he’d reacted to her designs had led them, inevitably, to where they were now, hadn’t it?

Of course, the quality of “where they were” was questionable at best - somewhere between friends and colleagues, desperately trying not to undress one another with their eyes when other people were in the close vicinity.

The redhead forced herself to focus on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for her to obsess over Vladimir later. For the moment, she would just revel at how wonderfully her first overseas project was shaping up to be. Once she did that, Charlotte didn’t even notice how quickly time passed. They arrived at the Dansk office around two in the afternoon, but by the time she finally looked at a clock, it was close to seven and the sky was dark outside.

Her eyes widened in surprise - even more so when she looked up from the plans she’d been pouring over to find that, at some point, Vladimir had left her and now it was simply her with the executives, all wrapped up in their respective excitement.

Her stomach growled, and she realized, all at once, that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She wondered if Vladimir was off somewhere eating without her, and resolved to give him the third degree if she discovered he’d left her with all the work. She politely excused herself from the executives of one of Russia’s highest spending companies and found her way back to the lobby of the fifteenth floor office.

Where she found Vladimir speaking in quiet tones with a man far less broad than he himself, his black eyes and dark hair slicked back from his brow pronouncing him of Asian descent. Charlotte only had to take one look at the pair of them to see how relaxed they were with one another - far more than Vladimir had ever been with her.

She knew in an instant that he had to be Toshiro - his Japanese brother.  Besides the two of them, there was only one other occupant of the lobby. A young woman with hair blacker than either of theirs - so dark it contrasted starkly with the pale, almost porcelain color of her skin, was curled against a sofa at the far end of the lobby, her heels lined up neatly below her. She seemed to be completely absorbed in the laptop screen she stared at, her fingers flying over the keys at near the speed of light.

Toshiro saw her first, raising his gaze to hers. If he was surprised to see her standing there, he said nothing, merely murmuring to his brother in a low voice.

Vladimir, however, reacted as if he’d been burned, turning and all but leaping from his seat as he looked in her direction. “Charlotte.” It was almost as if she’d caught him with his pants down - but all he’d been doing was talking to his brother; who he now promptly introduced her to. “This is my brother, Toshiro. He arrived this morning.”

Charlotte promptly stuck her hand out, still somewhat flummoxed by what she’d stumbled onto - if, indeed, it was anything at all. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Unlike his brother, Toshiro had no accent - and his voice wasn’t quite as deep. “That’s Athena over there. She’s my...assistant.” He hesitated slightly before defining the dark-haired woman’s role - and that instant was enough for Charlotte to know that Athena was certainly more than his assistant. She raised breathtakingly blue eyes from the laptop before her to smile at Charlotte.

“Hi. I’d shake your hand but I’m in the middle of something just now. So, so sorry.” She spoke, Charlotte realized, with the twang of the Northeast. She wouldn’t be surprised if Athena was from New York, just as Vladimir and Toshiro were.

“No problem.” Charlotte returned her smile before turning her attention back to the two men before her.

“Have you finished up with the gentlemen back there?” Vladimir asked her, an undertone of tension in his voice. He didn’t want her here. She realized she was correct in her presumption that she’d interrupted something.

“We’re about done,” she replied, looking from him, to Toshiro, and back again. “I can head back to the hotel, if you need to finish up here.”

She presumed it would mean she didn’t get to wear any of her new clothes, but that mattered little just now. The last thing she wanted was to intrude on a family moment.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, she was dismissed. Charlotte tried not to show her disappointment, merely nodding with a smile. She returned to the conference room for just long enough to grab her things, promising each of the executives that she would see them in two days’ time to begin the renovations. As she slid her arms into the sleek material of her new coat, she remembered that it, at least, was something else Vladimir bought for her.

The thought gave her no small thrill.

The redhead made her way to the elevator bay, but before she could press the button to go down to the first floor, another hand beat her to the punch. She jumped, surprised to see none other than Toshiro Kensley at her shoulder.

“May I see you out?”

She had no idea what to think of this. “...Sure?” It was more of a question than a confirmation, but Toshiro didn’t seem to mind. He stepped into the elevator behind her and Charlotte noted that he was also about a head shorter than Vladimir - putting him at just above six feet. Tall for a Japanese man, by anyone’s standards.

And he wore it well - along with his slanted eyes, sharp cheekbones, full mouth and regal posture.

She wondered, vaguely, if all the Kensley men were this attractive? Did Jackson just pick the manliest little boys in every country he visited? The very notion made her smile at its silliness as she shook her head incrementally. Though she didn’t know him personally, Charlotte knew enough to be sure that Jackson Kensley had adopted each and every one of his children for a reason.

After all, anyone with eyes could see how capable Vladimir was within seconds of meeting him.

“So how are things going with the new project?” Toshiro’s question surprised her. She hadn’t actually expected him to initiate conversation. The redhead had been under the impression that he was just being polite.

“Great,” she found herself smiling unabashedly. “The Dansk executives are in love with the design.”

“I imagine that’s an entirely different story from your first proper meeting with Vlad.” His wry tone was enough to make her stiffen, and Charlotte was immediately nervous. Please don’t tell her he was just accompanying her down to the first floor to test her mettle. It was hard enough dealing with his brother.

“Well...yes.” She finally managed, fiddling with a stray strand of her hair.  “At the very least though, Vladimir’s easy to work with now.  He has certain...expectations…”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” To her surprise, Toshiro chuckled softly. “I imagine that he’d be your dream boss if you interests ran towards logistics and numbers - but that isn’t you is it, Ms. Gardner?”

Charlotte stared up at him warily, choosing to wait for him to continue rather than answer his possibly rhetorical question. “I’ve looked through some of your work, as well as your information. I don’t think Vladimir’s ever had to work with someone as different from he is as you are.”

The young woman still wasn’t sure what to say. “Well,” she venturing, “Considering I’m the first person he’s bumped heads with in a long time, I’d say he’s probably handling it about as well as to be expected.”

“I’m sure.” Toshiro leaned against the wall of the elevator as the floors continued to decrease. “Which means to say that he’s being stubborn and pigheaded - fighting against that a-type personality of his.”

That honestly sounded exactly like what Vladimir was doing - as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to cross the boundaries that he himself had put into place. It would have been so much better, Charlotte knew, if she were just able to think of him as her boss - if she could just work on the job and let it go the moment things finished. But she knew she would always wonder what would have happened if Vlad let her see past that thin veneer of control he was always so intent on keeping? What would she learn about him?

“He’s a great man,” she finally replied, choosing her words carefully - but just because she was careful about what she said didn’t mean Charlotte was lying. “He knows exactly what he needs at any given time...what the company needs.” Her voice lowered somewhat before she continued softly. “He’s not so great at dealing with what he wants.”

She realized, far too late, that she’d let the words slip in front of the man’s brother and her face turned cherry. “That is...I mean...I don’t mean to-”

“To what? Know him as well as you do?” Toshiro smirked, obviously amused. “No harm in that. It will save you a lot of trouble in the future, I think.” And was doing her no good now - that much she knew. She bit her lip, curling a strand of hair around her finger absently, wondering what on earth Toshiro was trying to get at.  She knew, for a fact, that he was director of International Business -which meant that pretty much the only person he answered to was Vladimir himself. Was he trying to tell her how to ease business proceedings with Vladimir...or something more personal?

“As we get to know one another better, he accepts the way I work more and more gracefully. As long as we maintain that kind of working relationship, I think our projects will turn out splendidly.” It was as diplomatic an answer as any she’d ever come up with.

And it tasted sour on her tongue.

“The nature of the relationships that keep Kensley Enterprises running smoothly is immensely important.” Toshiro nodded, “Vladimir has always prided himself on running a tight ship. Maybe that’s why he never seems to cut himself any slack. I love my brother to death but he’s wound tighter than a bowstring. He could use a little rest and relaxation.”

Before Charlotte could ask what, exactly, Toshiro thought Vladimir would consider rest and relaxation, the elevator reached the ground floor and he stepped from it. She hurried to follow him through the lobby and the glossy revolving door that led out onto the street beyond. “It was lovely to meet you, Charlotte.” The dark-haired man extended his hand again, and Charlotte realized she might never get to ask her question. “Be sure to let Vlad know when you get back. I’m sure he won’t rest easy until you do.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Toshiro,” She responded, still trying to read his intentions through that benign, handsome smile of his. “Good night.”

When it came to impassable expressions, he could give Vlad a run for his money.

As Charlotte stepped out onto the sidewalk, she shivered, drawing her coat closer around her. Usually, she wouldn’t play into anyone’s attempts to baby her - there was no real need for her to call Vladimir when she got back to the hotel. He’d probably still be busy with his brother. But she would - as a gesture of goodwill.

He had, after all, admitted to worrying about her. The least she could do was alleviate some of the pressure there - even if she would far rather be catering to Vladimir’s less clandestine needs.

Christ.

The young woman blew out a breath, clutching her two Prada bags in frigid fingers. Though she was going back to one of the most expensive beds she’d ever lain in, and an entire menu of room service was open to her every whim, she couldn’t help the feeling of unease churning in her belly at the thought of another long, sleepless night.