Beautiful Revenge (A Good Wife #1) - Sienna Blake Page 0,22
investor is very, very important to us.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
“Charm him. You have a way. Make him feel welcome. Make him feel at home. Whatever he wants, he gets.”
“Of course.”
He straightens his tie once again. “Whatever you do, don’t fuck this up for me.”
My blood curdles. If anything goes wrong on this investor’s trip, I will be to blame. I have a feeling my punishment, should anything go wrong, will be worse than I’ve ever experienced.
I steady my nerves as a figure appears out of the black town car and walks up the steps to completely darken the width of the glass. My breath sucks into the back of my throat. He is huge. At least six feet two. His shoulders are wide as a rugby player.
The footman at the door clears his throat. “I present, Mr Wolf.” He opens the front door with a flourish. Mr Wolf steps into our foyer, his long grey overcoat swishing at his ankles.
Oh. My. God.
My heart seizes. My lungs cramp. My world shatters into a million little pieces.
There standing before me is Dimitri Volkov.
He’s Mr Wolf? The American investor? There must be some mistake.
Then it hits me. Volkov is Russian for Wolf.
Why hadn’t I made the connection?
Because I never thought, not in a million years, that Dimitri would come here to find me.
Everything fades around him. He is all I see. He is all that exists. He was always handsome. Now, as a man of twenty-four, he is devastating. His hair is combed back into a more conservative style. I can see pieces of it attempting to escape, wanting to dance like a wild wind. His jaw has become wide, sterner, stronger. His beautiful cheekbones, even more sculpted. His boyish beauty has been honed into a sharp and savage masculinity.
The footman proceeds to take his overcoat from him as Dimitri scans the foyer with the polished ease of someone used to all this opulence. He is no longer lean from lack of food and being overworked. He is thick and built like a man who works out every day. His torso is wide and his legs are strong, filling out his gorgeous light grey pinstriped suit. That, along with the pale blue of his shirt and the silver of his tie, looks so much more sophisticated than my husband’s self-conscious attire. Dimitri wears Armani as if he were born in it.
My head spins. I am in a dream. Dimitri. Here.
My body tumbles with so many questions. Where have you been? How did you come here? What have you been doing for the last five years? I want to know every single detail of every single day. Where do you live? Who did you meet? Do you remember me?
And mostly, the question burning in my heart…do you still love me?
It’s been five years. But my heart still beats for you.
Five years.
How—how—is he here?
Is this a strange coincidence? Did he happen to come across my husband in London?
Or did Dimitri know who my husband was? Did he come here to see me? My insides surge with hope, my soul dusting off her wings once more. He’s here for me. He’s going to take me away from this awful place. We can go to America like he promised all those years ago. Oh, Dimitri. I knew you hadn’t forgotten about me just like I haven’t forgotten about you. You have to know that I forgive you for leaving me behind all those years ago. I don’t care, because you’re here now and all is forgiven. You came for me.
Finally his gaze comes to rest on me. It hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
My lips part as I struggle to breathe. It gets worse as my mouth completely dries. My heart beats wildly in my chest like a tribal shaman’s dance. My entire soul is vibrating for the first time in five years. I was dead. Now I’m alive. I am whole again.
Oh my God, Dimitri. You have no idea how many times I dreamed of seeing you again. Every day I thought of you. Every night I prayed you were safe and happy.
I want to say all these things, but they jam up against my voice box. Not even a squeak leaves me. Not even a gasp. I want to run to him, fling my arms around his neck and cover his face with kisses. But I am too rooted in the ground, too dizzy to move.