Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (18 page)

Straightening to a sitting
position, Sergei pulled her up with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist,
keeping her back welded to his chest and rested his chin against her head. He
wanted more than a few nights of passion. Wondering how to broach the paramount
question, he stared at the fire and sighed.

Cecile twisted her head toward
him. He noticed her puzzled expression and curled a strand of her hair around
his finger. Would he dive straight into the subject or tiptoe around it?

“Cecilya, you’ve gotten used to
our vodka. How about the cold, does it still bother you? During your last trip,
you shivered every other minute.”

Cecile snuggled against him and
shook her head. “No more, with the central heating back in the hotel and the
little heater in my room, the temperature is just correct. And outside, I’ve
learned to wear layers and layers of clothes.”

“Hmm. I noticed.” He chuckled.
“It’s a pain but I can manage.” In spite of the dimness, he noticed a flush of
embarrassment on her face. “If you get cold let me know.” He pointed to the
bottles of wine and vodka sitting on the table.

“Not yet. Not with you,” she
assured him.

He squeezed her against him. His
body was so hot, it could melt the ice on the ground but his brain felt numb,
unable to formulate what his heart was screaming.

* * * * *

Cecile squirmed against Sergei,
noting the stillness of his shoulders, the silence that had subtly descended
between them. Was he having second thoughts about telling her he loved her?

She raised her head and stared at
him. “You’re very quiet, Sergei.”

“Hmm…Tell me, Cecilya. What do
you think about my flat?” he quipped all of a sudden. “Of course, it is much
smaller than your luxurious condo.”

Was there challenge in his voice?
Some bitterness? “Sergei, I love your flat. It’s bright and cozy,” she said,
hoping to reassure him.

“If you wanted to change
anything, what would it be?” he asked in earnest.

Bemused by his line of questioning,
she wondered what he was getting at. “You mean, if I wanted to redecorate it?”

“Yes, precisely. How would you,
let’s say, modernize it?”

Cecile tilted her head and
fantasized out loud. “I would improve on the kitchen. I’d keep the marble countertop
but I’d add more cabinets. I like the living room as is. On second thought, I’d
change the dark blue sofa for a lighter beige one.” Caught at her own game of
redecoration, she described her taste for brighter furniture but in general she
thought the apartment was comfortable enough.

He suddenly grabbed her hands.
“And then, once it’s arranged to your taste, would you get used to it?”

She was afraid to guess. Did he
want her to move to his flat?

Silence enveloped them as she
pondered the question.

Sergei pulled her into his arms
and groaned against her hair, “Cecilya, my love, marry me.”

Her breath caught in her chest.
Her eyes rounded. Had she heard him right? Her hand flew to her throat.

“Cecilya, we’ve been fools,
arrogant fools. We thought we could control our feelings, deny our love. My
darling, I can’t keep it hidden any longer. I love you. I love you so much.” He
trailed his lips on her forehead and her cheeks and captured her mouth in a
long bone-melting kiss.

The world spun around her but her
heart sang. He truly loves me. Loves me enough to put me ahead of his dreams.

He eased her away. “Well, tell me
that you’ll marry me.”

Her throat constricted and her
eyes welled with tears. He pressed his lips against her eyelids. “Why are you
crying?”

“Oh Sergei, how I’ve dreamed of
hearing these words. So many times, I said them loud to myself, just to hear
them, ‘I love you, my General. I love you, my hero’.”

“Well, say it again. Tell me that
you want to marry me.” He squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Cecile squirmed against him. “I
love you. I love you. I can say it all night.” She sealed her lips on his and
he deepened the kiss. An eternity later, she pulled her mouth away and fixed a
long gaze on him. Her shoulders slumped. “But I can’t marry you.”

“What are you saying?” He lurched
forward and clutched her arms.

“No, Sergei. There’s no future
together for the Major General of Belarus and the American Program Manager. We
knew it from day one and we gambled. And now we’re burned at our own game. I’ll
go away and you’ll forget me.” Needles of regret pierced her heart as she heard
herself rejecting his proposal, his love, his promise of happiness at his side,
in his arms.

“Can’t you give up your pampered
life and live with me?” Bitterness creaked through his voice.

“I’d gladly give up my miserable
luxury, Sergei. It doesn’t bring love and happiness. Only you do,” she cried
out, desperate that he would misinterpret her unselfish refusal. “But what if
you lose your position? What if your officers think you betrayed them? What
about your country, your dear Belarus, Sergei? Won’t you resent me for stealing
away your utmost love, the goal of your life?”

He stared at her blankly. She’d
hit the right chord. He didn’t protest. She raised her hands and cupped his
face. “You’re right I was an arrogant fool, assertive and forceful at work but
so vulnerable in my heart. And yes, I can’t give up my work, although I hate it
right now.”

She felt the blazing heat of his
gaze and heard the thudding of his heart, his heavy breathing stomping in the
silence of the room. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned her head and
stood up. He straightened up and gathered her against him.

“Don’t go away, Cecilya. Life is
already hard as it is. I’ve offered all I could.”

“I know, my love. And I’ll
treasure your offer.” She looked at him with sadness and desperation. There was
nothing more to say. She put on her coat and her hat and wrapped the scarf
around her neck. He yanked on his coat and
chapka
and opened the door.
Holding her hand, he walked her to the car.

Sergei drove away. He didn’t talk
and she couldn’t utter a word. She felt numb, bruised and hurt. For a crazy
second, she almost cried, “I love you. I’ll marry you.” But she knew it would
destroy them both.

Sergei parked the car far away
from the hotel, next to the sidewalk lining the river. He helped her out and
enfolded her in his arms. She breathed deeply inhaling his warm breath and the
chilly wind. Fire and ice, that’s what my life is about.

They walked hand in hand through
the night until they saw the hotel’s lights. She stopped next to a tree.
“Please, let me go in alone. I’ll be fine.”

He held her one more time in his
arms. “Tonight, we almost made love in a palace. It was heaven.”

She stifled a sob and kissed him
with love and despair. He pulled her away from him. “Go, before I stop you
forever.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Go, please, go.”

“Sergei, will we see each other again,
alone?” She was waiting for his verdict as if it was her fault, as if she was
responsible for messing up their relationship.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t touch
her anymore.

Her eyes welled with unshed
tears. She started running toward the hotel, unaware of her surroundings and
the sudden cold that stiffened her spine. As she reached the glass door, she
turned around. She couldn’t see him in the darkness but guessed he was still
there, against the tree, protecting her from afar, and she swallowed a sob.

Chapter Fifteen

Cecile reached her room in a
daze. She found two aspirins in her medical kit, then reconsidered. They would
upset her stomach. How she wished she could swallow a shot of vodka, the
efficient and universal remedy in Minsk. She already regretted her foolish
refusal.

Sergei wanted her as his wife…

Why hadn’t she accepted? Why
didn’t she ask for time to consider his proposal? Would she always put duty
before happiness? His duty to his country. Her duty to her lab.

Be honest with yourself. It
wasn’t just about duty and work.

She was afraid.

They were two strong
personalities used to being in control of themselves and others. As his wife,
she would give up everything that had been her life and become his shadow.
Granted it was the shadow of a hero, a wonderful lover who made her yearn to
stay in his arms but still a shadow without personality, without position,
without personal achievement.

As an American woman in love with
her freedom, how could she survive the continuous surveillance?

Could she share his fierce
patriotism?

Too many questions with negative
answers.

No, a marriage would not survive.
They were too similar and their countries too different.

With pain clutching at her heart,
she recognized she made the right decision.

* * * * *

Sergei stood to greet the
American delegation. Cecile’s perfume invaded his nostrils as soon as she
entered his office, and he noticed the dark edges shadowing her eyes. His back
stiff, he nodded to avoid the torture of shaking her hand in an official way.

Last night, he had promised
himself he would smother his love and snatch her out of his thoughts. Too
restless to sleep, he’d drunk a whole bottle of vodka and smashed it against
the wall of his antechamber. Cecilya didn’t understand his patriotism. She’d
refused to share his simple life and glorious dream.

So be it, he would continue to
live only for Belarus. As an officer, he could accept hardship without
complaint but a rampant pain gnawed at his heart.

“
Dobroye outroh
, good
morning, my friends. I’d like to see the analytical results of the samples and
discuss the equipment retrieval from the airport.”

She had already given him the
results of analysis and he trusted her professional opinion but this morning,
he wanted to see her again. He’d called the meeting just to keep her beside him
as long as he could. But he wouldn’t trust himself alone with her. He wanted to
take her in his arms, crush her lips with his mouth and cover her with caresses
and kisses. Instead, he forced himself to listen to the technical details.

Cecile rummaged through her
briefcase and pulled out a yellow folder. She handed it to him. “General, these
numbers represent the concentration of carcinogens in your sample. The values
are high, too high for safety. In the U.S., we would say that they are above
the maximum allowable limit for healthy conditions.” With a yellow marker, she
highlighted the numbers on her report sheet.

Sergei inhaled deeply then
exhaled, a terrible load weighing on his chest. The results showed that more
people were going to die if nothing was done to alleviate the pollution.

His gaze scanned the little
group, resting on each one of them. “What can we do to clean the environment?
We don’t have the means or the money.” He stiffened, refusing to give in to
despair about Belarus’ terrible hazardous waste situation.

Silence hovered over the group.
Nicouvitch raised helpless hands. “Dr. Lornier would do her part, set up the
lab and train the chemists but the environmental cleanup is way beyond her budget
and the scope of her contract.”

John banged on the desk. “I think
we can help you.” His voice thundered through the room. They all snapped to
attention. Cecile spun toward him.

Nicouvitch grabbed John’s
shoulders. “Speak, my friend. What’s your suggestion?”

A huge smile spread on John’s
face. “Simple, another contract. EAL contract encompasses the refurbishment of
the lab and training of the chemists. But the extent of the U.S. aid goes
beyond the few millions allocated to Cecile’s project. Here’s what we should
do.”

He inched toward the desk and
scribbled on a blank pad. They gathered around him.

Cecile snatched the sheet of
paper. “Go ahead. Think out loud. I’ll write.”

In spite of himself, Sergei
smiled, touched by her eagerness to help.

“The general will request more
aid. Cecile, you and your guys can write the requirements for the environmental
cleanup. I’ll set up a contract and include your proposal in a formal request.
I’ll ask my department to approve it and will highly recommend EAL. Who knows,
maybe your company will win this second phase and provide the equipment
necessary for the cleanup?”

Sergei extended his arm and shook
John’s hand. “Thank you, my friend, you are helping me to fulfill the goal of
my life.” Once more the American delegation had brightened his life and the
future of his citizens.

Nicouvitch added his thanks to
John with a bear-hug. The contract director seemed as pleased as if he had
received the Nobel Prize.

John turned to Cecile and spread
his arms wide open. “Hey, where is my hug, lady?”

She wrapped her arms around the
large shoulders and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “I think you deserve
thanks for this brilliant idea.” Hmm, a brilliant idea. Except that…she’d have
to involve Rob in this new contract. Would she ask Rob to come? Could she stand
his patronizing attitude and belittling comments?

“Am I not a genius? You’re going
to do all the work, Dr. Lornier and I’ll get the credit.” John’s booming
laughter filled the office and they all chuckled.

Sergei stared at them. How he
longed for a hug and a kiss, too. But he couldn’t take her in his arms. She had
turned him down because of his love for his country.

He raised a hand. “My friends,
can I ask you a favor? There are people who will try to stop any plan
originating from my office. I would like to keep this new project secret until
it is approved by the USA and officially announced here. No one, absolutely no
one, should know about it.”

Nicouvitch cleared his throat a
couple of times, requesting their attention. “The second item on our agenda is
tomorrow’s visit to the airport to retrieve the equipment. I filed an
application with the customs bureau of the Ministry of Defense. It should be
signed and sent to the airport. We’ll find it there.” He sighed. “If everything
goes well.”