The Cost Of The Forbidden. Carol Marinelli

was no point in dragging things out and so he would tell her that this wasn’t going to work; that she could never be his PA.

      And he would tell her why if she asked.

      Naomi Johnson had one of those apologetic personalities that irked Sev.

      One of the last English words he’d learnt had been ‘sorry’ and he rarely used it.

      Naomi had said it twice even before taking her seat.

      She had said sorry when he’d gone into Reception to call her in for the interview and she had knocked over her glass of water as she’d stood. Then, as she had taken a seat in his sumptuous Fifth Avenue office, he’d politely asked how her morning had been. Naomi clearly hadn’t made out what he’d said and it had been ‘sorry’ again.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ had been his irritated reply.

      And now she had just said it again.

      ‘I don’t think it will work,’ Sev said.

      ‘Mr Derzhavin—’

      ‘Sev,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m not a schoolteacher.’ He looked up into serious brown eyes and, seeing her rapid blink, he reeled back a touch from his usual abrupt dismissal. She—Naomi—had clearly made a huge effort for the interview today. The hostel she was staying at was a dive yet she was here in a smart suit. It was a touch tight, Sev thought, noticing her curves. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied back and she looked...

      Sev couldn’t quite place it.

      She reminded him of something, or rather someone.

      He didn’t really want to examine who or what it was, there was just, he decided, no need to be brutal.

      ‘Look, Naomi, you’re clearly qualified and for a twenty-five-year-old you have a lot of experience and you interview well but...’ He watched her nervous swallow and found himself wanting to let her down gently. ‘You’ve an extensive list of hobbies—reading, horse riding, ballet, theatre... It goes on. The thing is, the only hobby my PA can reasonably expect to have is me.’

      ‘Felicity has already explained that to me,’ Naomi said. Her first interview with his current PA had been thorough enough to leave Naomi in no doubt that the role would be a demanding one. Sevastyan Derzhavin’s skills in cyber security were globally in demand. Apart from an impossible workload he was a rich playboy and had a little black book that was his PA’s to juggle, along with his private jet and helicopter.

      Yes, she had been told exactly what the role would entail. He was arrogant, emotionless, worked you to the bone but he paid through the nose for attention to duty.

      Him.

      From the bitter twist to Felicity’s voice Naomi had soon guessed that there might be a more personal reason for the sudden vacancy.

      ‘Even so.’ Sev went to drop her résumé on his desk and, Naomi was sure, terminate the interview and send her on her way.

      ‘Would it help if I told you that I’d lied on my résumé?’

      ‘Probably not.’ Instead of standing, he leant back in his seat. ‘Go on.’

      ‘Well, I do like the ballet and theatre but it’s stretching it to say that they’re hobbies of mine and I haven’t been on a horse since I was fourteen...’

      ‘What about reading?’

      ‘I’ll read in bed.’

      Sev opened his mouth to say something and then, very sensibly, he closed it.

      God, he could so easily and so very inappropriately have responded to that. Clearly Miss Awkward had recognised the opening she had just given him because just as those full cheeks had been starting to pale, they had once again flushed pink the second she’d said it.

      ‘Well, I can’t command your time in the bedroom,’ Sev said, and he hesitated again because, actually, he wouldn’t mind doing just that...

      He made a very abrupt verbal U-turn. ‘I warn you—if I offered you the role then most of your waking hours would be devoted to me. Your time would be spent on a laptop, or the phone, sorting out my life. You wouldn’t even have time to read your horoscope, it will be mine you turn to first.’

      ‘I don’t believe in them.’

      ‘I bet you still read them, though?’

      ‘Is that relevant?’

      She was tougher than she had first looked.

      Sev gave her an intense stare, barely noticing her full lips and round cheeks as her deep brown eyes drew him in.

      And with that look Naomi revisited her need for the role—twelve-to eighteen-hour days didn’t trouble her, rather it was the company she’d be required to keep that did.

      ‘I see you’re engaged.’ Sev glanced at the ring she wore before returning her solemn gaze.

      ‘Again,’ Naomi asked, ‘is that relevant?’

      ‘Actually, it is,’ Sev tartly responded. ‘Because you’d have to have the most understanding fiancé in the history of the world to put up with the demands that I would make on your time.’

      ‘Well, my fiancé isn’t here in New York with me, however...’ Naomi hesitated for a moment and then decided that, no, if by some miracle he did offer her the role she wouldn’t accept it anyway.

      Twelve minutes ago her world had been complicated yet ordered.

      Well, not ordered as such but twelve days ago she had arrived in New York.

      Twelve minutes ago she had texted her father to suggest that they catch up for lunch after her interview.

      She had just put her phone back in her bag and gone to take a drink of water when Sevastyan Derzhavin had walked out of his office and called her name.

      ‘Naomi.’

      He was beautiful.

      Just that.

      Dark haired, pale skinned, he had very long legs and despite the immaculate suit he looked as if he should be wandering out of a club or casino at 5:00 a.m. he was so rumpled and unshaven.

      His tie was loosened, his grey-black eyes were a touch heavy lidded and he gave her not a smile as such, just a nod in the direction of his office and a vague, unrelated memory had popped into her head—she had remembered the time she’d gone to see her lovely familiar female doctor for a pap and a sexy-as-hell locum doctor had come out.

      Naomi had flunked it and had asked the sexy doctor for a flu injection instead. And she’d flunked it again as Sevastyan had come out of his office and greeted her. As she’d stood, she had got all flustered and knocked over her drink. When he’d enquired, in a deep, Russian-accented voice, about her day, she’d been so entranced that she hadn’t really heard what he’d said and he’d had to repeat himself twice.

      With every question he’d grown sexier.

      With every vowel he uttered she wondered if the chair she was sitting on might be battery operated. Somehow even her list of hobbies had led them to bed and so now all Naomi wanted to do was stand up and get the hell out of there.

      I’m an engaged woman, she wanted to say. How dare you make me feel like that?

      No, she didn’t want the role.

      ‘You don’t speak a second language,’ Sev checked.

      ‘No.’ Naomi shook her head. ‘I don’t.’

      ‘At all?’

      ‘Non,’ Naomi said, and then laughed at her own feeble joke.

      He didn’t laugh, just stared back at her.

      ‘You know,’ Sev finally said, ‘the English are lazy.’

      ‘Excuse