Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence - Shaw Chantelle - Страница 27

What the hell had happened there? Vadim brooded as he stepped into the shower and began to soap his body. The sex had been good. It was always good with Ella-maybe the best he’d ever had, he admitted. But he’d never lost control like that before. The truth was her passionate response had blown him away, and the knowledge that they would be apart for the next week had intensified his desire, so that it had over-whelmed him and resulted in that spectacular climax. There was no chance he was going to miss her while she was in Paris, he assured himself. They shared fantastic sex, but that was all he wanted from her. Maybe the week apart would lessen his desire for her, and he could end their affair and move on to another pretty blonde.

The Palais Garnier was arguably the most prestigious concert hall in Paris, and with an audience capacity of over two thousand it was the largest venue where Ella had ever given a solo performance.

‘It’s a full house,’ her publicist, Marcus, announced when he bounded into her dressing room. ‘Every ticket sold out. I knew we should have arranged for you to perform for two nights rather than just one.’ He paused and stared at Ella. ‘Heck, you’re pale. I’d better call the make-up girl back to see if she can make you look less like a ghost. How do you feel?’

‘Sick,’ Ella replied truthfully. She bit her lip as panic surged through her. ‘I don’t think I can go through with it, Marcus.’

‘Nonsense,’ he told her robustly. ‘You always suffer from stage fright, but the minute you start playing you’ll be fine. Oh, these came for you,’ he added, thrusting the bouquet he was holding into her lap.

Ella despised herself for the way her heart gave a little flip, and she fumbled to open the envelope of the attached card, disappointment swamping her when she read the good luck message from her cousin Stephanie and her family. ‘They’re lovely,’ she murmured as she placed the flowers with the other bouquets she’d received, from her aunt and uncle, and Jenny and her family.

It was stupid to have hoped that Vadim would send her flowers, she told herself impatiently. He’d sent her red roses once, but that was when he had been trying to persuade her into his bed. Now they were lovers-or perhaps sex partners would be a better description of their relationship. She was well aware that she meant nothing to him. He’d probably forgotten about the concert tonight. Maybe he had invited another woman out to dinner while she was away? The mental image of him taking some gorgeous model back to Kingfisher House for the night evoked such searing jealousy inside her that she actually clutched her stomach, as if she had been stabbed with a knife. It shouldn’t matter to her if Vadim entertained half a dozen nubile blondes in his bed, she reminded herself, swallowing the bile in her throat and taking a gulp of water, dismayed to see that her hands were shaking.

She couldn’t play like this, she thought wildly. Her nervous tension was so acute that it was doubtful she would be able to hold her violin, let alone draw her bow across the strings. She had the career her mother had dreamed of, she reminded herself. But knowing that her adored Mama would have been proud of her did not ease her self-doubt nor lessen her fear at the prospect of walking onto the Palais Garnier’s vast stage.

It was ridiculous to feel hurt that Vadim had not contacted her for the whole time she had been in France, and she was ashamed of the tears that stung her eyes. She’d known what she was getting into when she’d agreed to an affair with him-known what kind of man he was-so why did the fact that he had not sent her flowers make her want to bury her head in her hands and weep?

Marcus had gone-presumably to find the make-up girl. But adding some blusher to her cheeks was not going to make her feel any better, Ella thought desperately. In her ivory silk evening dress, with her hair swept up into a chignon, she resembled a wraith rather than a confident woman who was about to walk onto a stage and entertain two thousand people. With a muttered cry she yanked open the dressing room door-and slammed into the solid wall of a muscular chest.

‘Isn’t the stage in the other direction?’ Vadim enquired lightly. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’ Ella looked like a terrified doe, her eyes huge in her white face. The shimmer of tears on her lashes evoked a curious feeling in his chest, so that without pausing to question what he was doing he drew her into his arms and held her close.

‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, clutching his arms as if she feared he was an illusion who would disappear in a puff of smoke.

‘Do you think I’d miss a concert by one of the world’s most amazing violin virtuosos?’ he said softly. ‘Also, I wanted to personally deliver these,’ he added, lifting a bouquet of fragrant cream roses from the table behind him and handing them to her. ‘You didn’t think I’d forgotten that this is your big night, did you?’

Utterly overwhelmed, Ella closed her eyes, but could not prevent a single tear from escaping and rolling down her cheek. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said shakily. ‘I know I’m going to go to pieces in front of all those people. I must have been mad to think I could ever have a successful career as a soloist when I’m paralysed with nerves before every performance.’ She stared at Vadim, half expecting to see mockery in his eyes, but instead she glimpsed an expression of compassion that brought the words tumbling from her mouth. ‘This is what my mother wanted for me. She devoted her life to teaching me so that I might have the career she never had. My father was right,’ she said miserably. ‘He said I was too shy and pathetic to make it as a musician.’

‘When did he tell you that?’ Vadim asked roughly, feeling again a violent surge of anger at her dead father.

‘Oh, he said it every time he tried to persuade me to sell my violin. It’s a Stradivarius and worth a fortune-and my father needed money,’ she said bitterly. ‘But my mother had left it to me in her will, and he had no claim on it. He was furious when I refused to sell it.’ She broke off and bit her lip. ‘He never loved me, you know. I don’t know why. When I was little I tried so hard to please him-I was desperate for his approval, but I never won it,’ she said huskily, unwittingly revealing a vulnerability that tugged at Vadim’s insides. The image she presented to the world was of a confident, talented woman on the cusp of an astounding career, but underneath she was still the lonely little girl who had tried to win her father’s love and been deeply wounded by his uninterest.

It was little wonder she was afraid of relationships. She had been hurt once, and her determination never to let anyone too close was a self-protective measure to prevent herself from being hurt again. He understood; he’d done the very same thing. The pain of losing his wife and daughter had caused him to build a wall around his heart which he had no intention of ever dismantling. But as he stared down at Ella and watched another tear slip silently down her face, some long-buried emotion inside Vadim stirred into life and he felt a fierce urge to comfort her.

‘Your father was wrong,’ he said deeply. ‘You have a remarkable gift, and you also have an inner strength and grace that will enable you to overcome your nerves. I have absolutely no doubt that you can walk onto the stage tonight and blow the audience away.’

‘Do you really think so?’ she murmured uncertainly, feeling warmth begin to seep through her veins instead of the icy fear that had frozen her blood. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the muscular strength of his thighs pressing against her, and molten heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach when he slid his hand down to her bottom and pulled her closer still, so that the hard ridge of his arousal nudged between her legs. She lifted her head and drew a sharp breath when she glimpsed the fire blazing in his eyes. After five long, lonely nights away from him her body instantly recognised its master, and when he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss she melted against him and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a fervency that drew a low groan from his throat.