Read Online Pairing Off (Red Hot Russians #1) by Elizabeth Harmon - Free Book Online Page A

skate, she landed a throw triple Salchow flat on her butt. They came in fifth. That night, drunk on vodka, rage and guilt, she screamed and pounded his chest with her fists, until she collapsed in his arms, sobbing and begging forgiveness.
    He gave it, because of the partnership and what they’d been to one another. They made the relationship nonexclusive, at least for a while, to take some of the pressure off. Eventually, the bruises on his body went away. The deeper wounds were still there.
    “Are you coming, Anton?” Brigitte stood beside him, rummaging through her purse.Olga set aside her empty glass. “Are we going to another party?”
    Her slurred speech meant another drink was what she wanted most and needed least. “Not tonight,” he said, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She smiled seductively. He wasn’t in the mood for that either, but it was better than a fight.
    Adrian and Valentin followed Brigitte, and Egorov winked. “Have fun, kids. Don’t wait up.”
    Upstairs in the A-frame dacha’s bedroom, Olga looped her arms around his neck and rubbed against him. “You don’t really want to live out here and run some school. After Valentin and I win the gold, we can move to Hollywood, so I can be on TV. We’ll live in Beverly Hills. You would like that.”
    “When did I ever give you that idea? After all this time, that’s what you think I want?”
    “Who doesn’t want that?” She pouted and feathered her fingertips across his cheek, then plundered him with a deep kiss that carried a slight taste of desperation. He returned it, but felt nothing. She broke away and narrowed her eyes.
    “I think you’re still mad because of Valentin. I told you before—my decision to skate with him was nothing personal. Only business. Didn’t you say that you would have done the same thing?”
    He sighed, nodding. He had said it—many times. His pride demanded it.
    “So you have no reason to be angry. It doesn’t change anything between us.” She traced her nail across his bottom lip. “You do things for me Valentin can’t.”
    She gazed up through thick fake lashes fringing ice-blue eyes. Tonight she was Marilyn Monroe, in a tight halter dress, bright red lips and a makeup darkened beauty mark on her cheek. Platinum-blond hair brushed against her shoulders.
    If he’d heard once, he’d heard a hundred times how lucky he was.
    He pulled her close, smoothing his hands across the toned muscles of her back. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar perfume, trying desperately to purge thoughts of spring-green eyes and hair the color of sunshine, not snow. A honeyed drawl that took him back to another night, long ago.
    No. He couldn’t go there. Not now, as he held Olga. He forced his thoughts back to the woman in his arms. She kissed his neck and fumbled with his shirt, unbuttoning it to slip her hand inside. As she smoothed her hand over his chest, she wrinkled her nose. “You need an appointment with Vera.”
    Olga preferred him short-haired and sleek-skinned. Right now, he was neither. It was the perfect excuse. Gently, he stepped away.
    * * *
    He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, where wooden planks formed a perfect V overhead. There was a faint aroma of wood smoke, either from the bonfire outside or the now-dark fireplace at the foot of the bed. The room was private, and for a dacha, downright luxurious. But tonight, the only thing it would be used for was sleeping.
    On her side of the bed, Olga sighed contentedly. If she’d been upset by his rejection, she wasn’t showing it. “Mmm. Life’s better with thousand-count sheets, don’t you think? Tonight I met a producer for
Celebrities at Home
. She’s doing a show on Valentin’s dacha and I’ll get to be in it.”
    “You’ll be great. I’ll be sure to watch,” he said.
    “They might put you in it too, if I ask. But only if you’re very good and...” She toyed with a lock of his hair. “...if Vera cleans you