The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) by Charlotte O'Shay Page A

to savor.
    She shut her eyes against the intrusive light and lifted her arms in a lazy stretch up toward the vaulted ceiling, relishing the delicious ache in her body. Technicolor scenes of the day and night before appeared before her closed eyes. Oh, yeah. She felt good, practically boneless with satiation. She sank back to snuggle into the comfy duvet and the multiple down pillows that covered what had to be seventeen inches of luxurious mattress. It was all so cozy she might just roll over and sleep a little more. God knows, they’d barely slept the night before.
    But no, she should help Vlad with whatever he needed to deal with in the aftermath of the storm. Forcing herself out of bed was the toughest thing she’d done in two days. Then it was a quick shower without a partner before she pulled on her remaining clean clothing.
    ****
    Walking barefoot into the kitchen, she didn’t notice at first that he was on the phone. She stopped short at the sound of his sleep-roughened voice. His back was to her, his cell plugged in and charging in one of the center island outlets as he spoke.
    Vlad chuckled but Sabrina picked up the hard edge in it.
    “Yeah, da, they found a hottie and put her right on my plate. In my bed?” another chuckle, “…let’s just say not my type at all, but I’ll do what I have to do to figure out who put her up to it.”
    He was listening now and shaking his head.
    “No, no. She denies it, but it’s clear she’s really hard up for money. No, I never knew how far they would go to discredit me. Is it fully out? The story?” He nodded, listening, then, “What about Europe? And Russia? That’s crucial. Keep me posted. Right, power’s back now. I know. I can’t wait to get back to civilization. Let’s fix this mess.”
    He ended the call.
    Sabrina’s stood there, feeling the heat of her anger and hurt bubble up like scalding lava out of a volcano even as her self-esteem steadily seeped out of her like the excess water soaking cold into the ground outside.
    “You creepy bastard!” she shouted.
    Vlad’s head whipped around. “No need to get personal.”
    His mouth turned down at the corner at some private joke.
    “You heard some of that, I guess. My lawyer. You know what they say about eavesdroppers.”
    “You slimy slug!”
    She advanced on him ready to pummel him and then stopped, thinking better of touching him even in the throes of the worst anger and humiliation she had ever experienced.
    She couldn’t trust herself, not to cry or cling, or do something to further disgrace herself. Because the most frightening part of it was, she was still so attracted to him. Attracted? That was a pallid word. She’d barely washed the scent of him off her body, and she’d heard him say those horrible words about her. Well, that was sexual infatuation, wasn’t it? He was like an addictive drug and if she got too close, if she put herself anywhere near, she might weaken and then she’d be lost.
    “Take me home,” she said.
    She didn’t trust herself to say another word. There was a dangerous wobble in the back of her throat, a place where tears were gathering. But she refused to let them out. She looked down her nose at him as she issued the command as if she was royalty and he was the chauffeur.
    Then she turned her back on him and ran upstairs to get her knapsack.
    ****
    Vlad had to admit that in a way, he was glad she’d heard some of his conversation with Yuri. She was angry, and she would keep her distance and that was fine with him. He had far too much trouble keeping his hands off of her. Bringing her out to the house had been a boneheaded move, born of the desire to escape the paparazzi, buy time, and try to pry some information out of her.
    Yuri Abromovsky, his personal lawyer and university classmate had advised him to get out of town and wait for the media frenzy to die down. Good advice from one of the only people who knew who he was and who he had been.
    But who knew the storm