Chapter 4

EMERSON

Dressing to go to lunch with Viktor was proving to be difficult. Emerson had declined her sisters’ offers to help. She wanted to dress in a way that was professional—after all, he could prove to be a great source of referrals—but her female vanity also wanted to be somewhat provocative. How the hell did she pull that off?

Opening her closet, Emerson pulled out several things before putting them back. She thought she had settled on a pair of ethnic print, wide-leg pants and a solid wrap top, but as she pulled out the top, she found the perfect maxi dress made out of ecru bohemian lace that went from a more solid top to a more open bottom from mid-thigh down. It was sleeveless with a deep, plunging V-neck. She added flats in the form of leather lace up boots, a chunky bronze bangle bracelet and coordinating earrings. After applying her makeup, she decided to leave her hair in a braid.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Kendra as Emerson headed down the stairs. “You look incredibly sexy and yet still professional with a bohemian edge.”

“Just the look I was going for,” responded Emerson.

“Good. You have on flats. If he gets out of line, you can kick him in the nuts and run like hell,” added Tegan.

“Well, you two follow up with the people from last night’s event. I’ll go see what it is that Mr. Romanov is after.”

“I don’t know what he had in mind when he invited you, but once he sees that outfit the only thing he’ll be interested in is you. You look absolutely stunning,” said Kendra.

“Thanks. I shouldn’t be overly long; it’s just lunch.”

Emerson breezed out, trotting down the front steps and over to the garage that had once been a carriage house. She eased into her beloved red 1929 Ford Model A Roadster truck and pulled out into the driveway before waving to her sisters who stood on the porch. She loved her restored truck. Oh, there were purists who said she’d ruined it by adapting a modern motor, installing a nav unit, Bluetooth sound system, heating, air conditioning, and windshield wipers. But she didn’t care. She hadn’t found this old truck and given it a new life to take to car and farm shows; no, this was her everyday driver.

She punched the button to engage her mobile phone. “Romanov Imperial.” Viktor’s company was a multinational conglomerate holding company. What it actually did was somewhat unknown, and some of the rumors were unsavory, ranging from laundering money for the Russian mob to providing information and personnel to several intelligence agencies.

The phone was answered by a woman with a soft, sexy southern drawl—the kind of voice Emerson often wished she had. “Romanov Imperial. How may we assist you?”

“Good morning. Emerson Ravenel. I need to speak to either Mr. Romanov or whoever keeps his schedule. I’m supposed to meet with him for lunch, but he didn’t leave me a time or place.”

“I’ll put you through.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Viktor’s deep, sultry voice answered. “Emerson, how delightful. I had planned to call you a little later to see if the delivery had reached you and to see if I could persuade you to have lunch with me.”

Why was it everything about the man was so damn arousing? His voice was like the most sensual caress. Emerson imagined it wasn’t so much that one heard Romanov’s voice but rather experienced it. It wasn’t just that she could hear him; she could feel his voice as it rolled over her like some kind of immersive sensory experience.

“Although it isn’t necessary, I do have an opening today and so figured the least I could do was meet you for lunch. However, you failed to give me a time or place.”

“I didn’t want to presume and had planned to send my car.”

“Not necessary. I have a few errands to run so thought I’d fit them in and around when and where you wanted to meet.”

“In that case what about the botanical gardens at say one?”

“The gardens are closed today, and the restaurant is under renovation.”

“Such things are unimportant to a patron. If one will suit you, then I will meet you at the gate.”

“Sounds good; I’ll see you then. By the way, thank you for the return of my shoes and the lovely flowers. I’m afraid I can’t accept the vase or the parasol, although both are lovely.”

“If they pleased you then I must insist you keep them.”

“You can insist all you like, but I will have them returned. They are far too valuable. I’ll see you at the botanical gardens at one.”

She ended the call before he could respond and then ran a couple of errands, managing to get them all done before she made her way into the botanical gardens’ parking lot. As the gardens were normally closed, she was able to park right beside the entrance gate where a horse-drawn carriage was waiting. Emerson rolled her eyes as she got out of the car. She had no idea—other than the obvious, although given that he was way out of her league it seemed rather far-fetched to think he was looking to get laid by her—what his end game might be.

As she walked toward the gate where the carriage awaited, Emerson couldn’t help but think this was all just a bit over-the-top, even for a billionaire. The coachman hopped off the driver’s seat and extended his hand to help her aboard.

“Ms. Ravenel? Mr. Romanov is running a few minutes behind and thought you might enjoy a carriage ride through the gardens before taking you to lunch.”

“The restaurant is closed.”

“Not to worry. Mr. Romanov has had lunch catered in for the two of you. The table has been set up in one of my favorite spots overlooking the mute swans’ estuary.”

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Emerson climbed aboard the beautiful coach. “I don’t think I’ve seen you, your horse or this coach parked along the streets for the tourists. Do you hire out privately?”

“No, ma’am. I work for Mr. Romanov personally. He’s been known to offer my services as a wedding gift to members of the club, but other than that, I stay out at the plantation looking after his horses and the carriages.”

“Carriages? He has more than one?”

“Yes, ma’am. He has a number of fully restored carriages, including one that was said to have once belonged to the Russian imperial family.”

“Of course he does,” said Emerson laughing. She settled back into the comfortable seat, noting it was covered in butter-soft leather as opposed to velvet. Given Romanov’s reputation and the fact that it was loaned out to a BDSM club, she figured the leather would be easier to keep clean. “You do wipe this thing down after each use, don’t you?”

Instead of being insulted, the driver chuckled. “Yes, ma’am—clean and sanitized.”

“Well then, drive on.”

The man clucked to the copper bay horse hitched to the carriage, and they began to roll forward smoothly. The driver took her through wide trails traversing the gardens, pointing out various and sundry plants, flowers, and other things of interest. As they approached the pond in the middle of the gardens with its lovely fountain, she could see Romanov standing on a small dock, overlooking the pond. Even with his back turned, he was a sight to behold. Tall, dark, and she knew from the night before, devastatingly handsome. Set on the jetty was a beautiful table and chairs for two.

Upon hearing them approach, Romanov turned, his breathtaking smile splitting his face and lightening his normally dark visage. “Emerson, my apologies for being late. May I assume you enjoyed your ride?” He waved the driver off and helped her from the carriage himself. “How very beautiful you look. You most definitely have your own style.”

“Actually, the stylist my sisters hired has great taste, but I would have thought you’d find me way overdressed for this little tete-a-tete. I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be disappointed.”

“Never. A woman of your intelligence and beauty could never disappoint me.”

Emerson found herself rolling her eyes. “Could you dial it back just a smidge? I’m happy to have lunch with you, and as I said, I appreciate you returning my shoes, but all of this…” she said indicating the table, the carriage, the service cart laden with food, “…is a bit over-the-top. After all, this is just lunch.”

“Nonsense,” Viktor said, taking her hand and looping it through his arm. “I find nothing is ever just anything. Any success I have had has been because I saw what I wanted, plotted how to get it, and then did.”

She pulled her hand away. “I’m afraid you will fail with me.”

He shook his head. “I never fail. Failure is not an option I allow myself.” He retrieved her hand. “Come now, let’s not quarrel. We’ll have lunch and then discuss what—if any—plans you have for the afternoon.”

Trying to tell herself it was a mistake, but finding it difficult to protest, Emerson allowed him to help her into her chair, shaking out the napkin and placing it in her lap. Once he was seated, a small staff that seemed to work directly for him attended to their every need and provided a unique and captivating meal. As much as she wanted to resist him, Emerson found herself being swept away by his romantic and dominant nature. He seemed to take command but did so in a way that made it almost impossible not to simply follow along.

Over the next several hours, she found herself answering a myriad of questions, but being given mostly evasive answers to the ones she asked of him.

“Tell me, Viktor, what is it exactly that Romanov Imperial does?”

“We are an alternative—for lack of a better term—investment and wealth management firm with offices in London, Paris, and here in Charleston. We specialize in hedge fund investment strategies and hostile takeovers—both defense and offense. We apply a disciplined investment and risk management process to construct diversified fund portfolios in order to achieve risk-adjusted returns of investment.”

“In other words, you do high stakes gambling with other people’s money.”

“As well as my own,” he chuckled.

“Are you aware that there are a lot of rumors—some of them unsavory—regarding you, your business, and your club?” she asked.

“I am aware of that, but I cannot be bothered with what other people think of me. I am a successful and wealthy man…”

“Who, if rumors are to be believed, is in bed with the Russian mob, the CIA, MI6, Interpol, and others.”

Romanov held his hands out and shrugged. “As I say, people say a lot of things about me. Some are true and some are not.”

“How about what they say about you and your club?”

“Who are ‘they,’ and what is it they say?”

“They are mostly my sisters, and they say you’re an arrogant bastard known for his sexual prowess, the size of his dick, and a man who contracts all of his sexual encounters through the Carriage House,” said Emerson, figuring she’d shock him into ending this farce.

She was beginning to feel like he was playing with her, and he’d be boasting to his friends about the innocent he’d seduced at lunch. There was no doubt in her mind that he could absolutely seduce her. She kept looking at the dock railing and wondering what it might be like to be bent over it, her dress shoved up over her hips before he snatched her panties off and thrust into her. What bothered her most was how much she wouldn’t object to that and how it made every erotic synapse open wide like floodgates for her growing arousal.

“Tsk. Tsk,” he scolded her mildly. “For your sisters repeating such things to you and for you for listening, unless of course, that kind of thing would interest you.”

Enough was enough. She needed to extricate herself from what she feared was a small spark that could easily and rapidly become an out-of-control wildfire. Emerson had no interest in being just another notch on Romanov’s bedpost—literally or metaphorically. She pushed back from the table and stood up.

“Emerson, sit down,” he quietly ordered.

It was all she could do not to just plop unceremoniously back in the chair. Instead, she placed her balled fists, knuckles-down, on the table. “No, Mr. Romanov, I don’t think I will.” She spun on her heel and headed for the carriage.

“I think you will find my driver is unwilling to take you anywhere without leave from me to do so,” he said as he walked around the table, stalking her in a very casual, leisurely sort of way.

“Then I’ll walk. I suggest you don’t follow. I have witnesses.”

Romanov laughed—a bit too malevolently for her liking. “Who all work for me.”

He’d closed in on her. He had yet to reach for her, but he was leaning in, their mouths no more than a breath apart.

“Well, I could always go with my sister’s suggestion…”

“And what might that be?”

“That I use my knee to send your balls back up around your teeth and then run like hell.”

He chuckled—the sound more amused than annoyed. “Remind me to take your sisters to task when next I see them.”

Wait. What did he mean by next? Had he seen them before?

Before she could ask him what he meant or even try to answer her own questions, he lowered his head, his mouth brushing across her lips. That wildfire she’d been concerned about leapt to life, leaving her weak in the knees and moaning when his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. She reached for him, clutching at his waist.

It was more to steady herself than anything—at least that’s what the voice inside her head said.

One arm wrapped around her, hauling her close while the other wrapped her braid around his other fist in order to tug her head back. She moaned in a way she’d never heard herself before. As her lips parted, Romanov’s tongue surged in, tangling with hers as the hand around her waist slipped down to the curve of her ass to hold her close enough that she could feel she was having the same effect on him.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out for yourself what is true and what is not? Tell me, Emerson Ravenel, do you have the courage I believe you do, or will you run away and hide?”