She could do this, she told herself. She could pretend. She had to. Sabrina nodded again and started to back out of the room.
“Hang on a second,” he said.
She looked away from him because it hurt so much; the memories flooded back so fast when she glanced at any part of his lean powerful body and especially those all-seeing eyes. Jeez, but it was taking her time to come to grips with the knowledge that this was all fake. That it had been phony from the start and was still a farce. She had to remember it had been an entertainment for him; she had been an entertainment for him during the hours of the hurricane. He’d viewed their intimacy as a way for him to break her down and get information. It was all so coldblooded. He had a block of ice where his heart should be. Or was it her?
Was she the type of person that didn’t inspire true warmth?
“Yes. What?”
She was pleased that her voice was cool and gave no sign of the hellish thoughts running through her head. She forced herself to look him in the eye.
“Tomorrow we have to get started early. We’ll have to be out the door by eight.”
Sabrina laughed. A big, belly laugh. That brought her back to reality with a bump. What Vlad knew about kids would no doubt fit in a thimble.
“That won’t be a problem. Alex is always up by six.”
****
Vlad was toast. Three-year-olds were clearly powered by bionic energy. He was wiped out, and it was barely noon but Sabrina hadn’t lost her cool once. Not when they were in the trendy boutiques in Soho, not when they had hit the chic shops on Madison Avenue. Not when they’d visited the private ateliers in the Flatiron. How did she do it? He had already been on his cell to Mrs. Egan. She was available and arriving this evening when he and Sabrina would go out to begin what Yuri called the reunion tour.
He flung his spent body into the back of his town car in time to hear her tell Sergei, his driver, that they were heading to Central Park.
Her eyes were sharp emerald, and her gaze challenged him over the top of Alex’s soft black waves, her expression daring him to contradict her.
“Shopping in tiny boutiques and big scary department stores is not a small boy’s idea of fun!”
“No, really?” He raised a brow. Not a big guy’s either. Although there had been some very grown up compensations when she’d tried some of those outfits on.
Alex was unable to sit still and although the various staff had been ridiculously obsequious, not surprising given the serious money spent in a mere four hours, Vlad could feel the little guy’s pain. And it wasn’t because he rarely shopped in the traditional way anymore, since these days he enjoyed the services of a bespoke tailor and personal shopper. It was because Sabrina had been there, but was not available to either of them.
He’d directed her to get clothing for all occasions, and she was fulfilling the requirements with military efficiency. He’d only had a glimpse of her here and there as she had asked him to check out some of her more uncertain choices. He had loved every one of them.
The purple dress with the very short poufy skirt that made her look like a sexy ballerina? Yes, he had nodded. A thousand times, yes. He’d no idea where she might wear it. Maybe not outside at all, the voice inside his head told him. At that errant suggestion, his body had reacted predictably.
The slinky, red number that did amazing things to her already superb breasts and hips and had an oversized zipper running down the back from neck to hem? Oh yeah, he nodded. He hadn’t been able to articulate actual words by then.
She brought a packed cooler bag of snacks for Alex, and they had both cold water and coffee but he couldn’t remember the last time he had been more tired. He was even more drained than he’d been after the back-to-back meetings with the UN Committee that would vet his latest proposal to revamp international
shipping lanes.
Completely spent.
****
Sabrina texted Lacey first thing that morning.
‘—Serious Shopping. SOS—.’
Lacey called her a second later. “Oh my God, you’re shopping with that hunka burnin’ love with an unlimited budget. Go sista.” Lacey giggled, then her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Exactly how much of what I read in the Post is true?”
“None of it,” Sabrina admitted. “But that has to stay between us. Actually, he,” she paused, trying to get control over herself but it was no use. “He actually hates me.” Sabrina tried and failed to keep her voice from wobbling.
“C’mon now, sugar, that’s simply not possible. As soon as you’re at liberty to tell, you have to spill it all but until then here goes. My priceless wisdom is at your service. You are now about to make up for many years of fashion deprivation. Let’s get you some wow outfits and let’s see how he hates those.” She laughed. Lacey proceeded to rattle off the names of all the top boutiques she frequented and personal shoppers she trusted. Sabrina scribbled it all down. “And Sabrina,” Lacey advised, “get yourself a nice, big pair of sunglasses. I know it’s overcast today, but honey, never let them see your thoughts.”
Sabrina settled into the backseat more wired than weary. She pointed her toes turning her feet this way and that, admiring the look of the spiky designer heels she wore. Yeah, they were adorable, but it was good to give her feet, unused to tottering on four inches, a break during the ride in Vlad’s car.
She had to admit that Vlad was definitely not a cheapskate. They’d breezed into and out of stores she had previously only ever seen in fashion magazines, doing their bit for the city’s economy in a big way.
She’d thought to torment him with some extravagantly priced choices. Because after all, this was one big costume drama and she shouldn’t, if she had a conscience, break the bank when she only had to look the part for as long as it would take to get the paparazzi off their case. But she quickly realized she was only torturing her own more frugal self.
And she also swiftly discovered she had to keep the modeling of anything for him to a minimum once she saw how his eyes sizzled over her, reminding her of the night she first encountered him in the break room. A couple of times he’d gotten her so flustered she’d wanted to plonk his sunglasses back on his nose and tell him to leave.
By the time they left the last shop, her knees were wobbly and not because of her stilettos. Her whole body was on high alert because he hadn’t taken his eyes off her all day.
How would she cope when he could make her feel this way in public?