The Cost Of The Forbidden. Carol Marinelli

have little trouble. Applications to work for Sevastyan Derzhavin arrived in her inbox all the time. ‘I’ll go from Dubai to London and there we can part ways.’

      ‘You’re coming back to New York, though?’ Sev checked.

      ‘Oh, yes.’ Naomi nodded. ‘I want to have Christmas with my family here.’

      ‘How’s that all going?’ Sev asked, turning back to the mirror and getting on with shaving.

      ‘Good! I’m going there tomorrow night.’

      ‘For dinner?’

      ‘I’m babysitting,’ Naomi answered. ‘They’re going to the theatre.’

      Sev said nothing. He loathed how she jumped to her father’s every wish. They could be in the middle of a meeting and if her father texted or called, even if she tried not to respond, Sev could feel the tension in her.

      Then he chose not to say nothing. ‘You like the theatre,’ he pointed out.

      ‘Not really.’

      ‘It says that you do on your résumé.’

      ‘And I told you that I lied about that.’

      ‘Aren’t you going to ask about a reference?’

      Naomi nodded.

      ‘I’ll do that first thing tomorrow,’ Sev promised.

      He rinsed his face and then dried it, splashed on a load of cologne, took a sip of his drink and then put on his fresh shirt.

      And that was that.

      She’d resigned. It was done with.

      And he’d barely so much as blinked.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘ARE YOU GOING to get changed?’ Sevastyan asked.

      Naomi nodded.

      His complete lack of reaction only confirmed that she was right to leave.

      It was easy come, easy go to Sev, and that hurt a lot.

      As she headed out of his office to get changed for their night out, only then did she remember. ‘I haven’t got my dress here,’ Naomi said. ‘I was supposed to pick it up from the cleaner’s in my lunch break but I went shopping with Jamal and I forgot.’

      ‘No problem.’ He dealt with it as easily as the news that she had resigned. ‘Do you have something at home ready to put on? We can stop on the way to the restaurant.’

      Of course she had something at home—given her lavish clothing allowance—and they headed to her apartment. She rather wished he hadn’t shaved or smelled so divine as they took the elevator to the tenth floor, where Naomi lived, rather than his penthouse.

      ‘So?’ Sevastyan asked on the way up. ‘Where are we eating tonight?’

      Naomi told him the name of a very upmarket Middle Eastern restaurant.

      ‘That’s not very imaginative.’ Sev pulled a face. ‘Won’t they be sick of Middle Eastern food?’