other people’s heads. There were people everywhere, brushing shoulders, bumping elbows, but she knew it was him.
She gravitated towards him like a planet to the sun and looked up into those eyes of his. She said softly, ‘Yes,’ then hopelessly, ‘I wish I’d said yes. I should have said yes.’
He looked stunned, poleaxed. But at least he didn’t look angry or, worse, amused.
I am crazy, thought Clementine. Why did I tell him that? He doesn’t care.
Serge experienced the now familiar surge of frustration connected with this woman. What was she playing at?
As Clementine pushed her way through the crowd his first instinct was to pursue her. It was basically his foremost instinct where she was concerned, he acknowledged with more frustration. Yet all he could do was watch her vanish into the crowd, even as his thoughts curled possessively around her admission.
That’s the girl. Run away. You won’t be getting far
.
He had to deal with Raisa before he tried anything bolder with Clementine, and that would take tact, but once he was free he would be going after her.
Clementine had better be able to run fast on those impossible heels of hers, because she’d just declared herself his and he was coming to collect.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘D ARL , can you cheer up? You’re frightening the other passengers.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t get much shut-eye.’ They were queuing to put their bags through at the airport, and at four in the morning she felt just about dead on her feet. But she manufactured a smile for Luke, remembering the old adage to fake it until you make it.
Which she would be applying to her life the minute she got back to London. The last couple of days had impressed on her as nothing else had the need to get back on track with her life. It was time to let the past go. She’d allowed her experience with Joe Carnegie to completely blow anything she might have with Serge Marinov right out of the water. He held a measure of blame, too. If he’d been less forceful she might have been able to navigate around his invitation. Instead they’d both hit a wall—his expectations versus hers—and he had moved on.
‘Still thinking about the gorgeous brute?’ commented Luke from behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. ‘I thought he was going to pop me one yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I didn’t mean for you to get involved.’
‘He seems pretty keen on you, Clem.’
‘What? No, that’s all over.’
‘Okey-doke. But I’m not sure he agrees.’
Clementine frowned and moved forward in the queue. Why was Luke speaking in the present tense? Why were people in the queue looking at her?
‘Clementine.’ His voice turned her around. Deep, dark Russian male.
Serge. So close to her she didn’t know where to look. So she looked up and tumbled into his eyes again. It happened each and every time, and she couldn’t work out why. Her breath hitched. She didn’t know what to say.
His mouth eased into a knowing smile. ‘Come with me now to New York,
kisa
.’
Go with him? She was boarding a plane…Of all the unreasonable…
‘Are these your bags?’
To her astonishment a young man in a jacket and tie took hold of her suitcase and overnight bag.
‘Just a minute—those are my things!’
Serge made a casual gesture with one hand and the guy froze mid-move.
‘You have changed your mind?’ That smile was still curling wickedly at the corner of his mouth, as if it couldn’t possibly be true.
‘No, I—’ She looked around to find Luke madly nodding at her like a jack-in-the-box.
She rolled her eyes at him.
‘Perhaps you would like to say goodbye to your friend and then join me.’ Serge’s eyes had narrowed on Luke. Clementine already recognised that slight hardening of his mouth.
He was jealous. Well, maybe a teensy weensy bit. Which reminded her…
‘What about your girlfriend?’
‘Sto?’
He looked genuinely puzzled.
‘Last night. Remember?
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