Chapter 091

As Andrei finished zipping up the ball gown, he turned her to face him. Brushing tendrils of hair from her face, he looked down at her with electric blue eyes. “Are you ready? The ball is in a few minutes.”

Looking up at his handsome face, Illyra tried not to feel anything. But her heart slammed against her ribs.

His forehead furrowed. “Illyra ?”

She turned away with a lump in her throat. “I, um, need some lipstick.” Going to the mirror, she made her lips bright Chanel red. Lifting the silk hem of her gown, she stepped into her expensive shoes with sparkling crystals decorating the four-inch heels, and took a deep breath. “Ready.”

Downstairs in the foyer, Andrei took a sharply tailored black coat from the closet, wearing it over his tuxedo. Then he removed a black hanging bag from the closet. He unzipped it. In dismay, Illyra saw white fur.

He noted her expression. “Don’t worry. It’s fake.”

Dubiously, she reached out and stroked the soft white fur. “It seems real.”

“Well.” His lips curved in amusement. “It’s very expensive. Twice the price of the real thing.” Lifting the white fur coat from the bag, he wrapped it around her bare shoulders. “I can’t have you getting cold, angel moy,” he said softly.

“What does that mean?”

“My angel.”

She bit her lip, faltering. “I’m nobody’s angel.”

He smiled. Pulling her close by the lapels of the white faux fur, he looked down at her. His blue eyes crinkled. “Wrong.”

Illyra ’s heart squeezed so hard and tight she couldn’t breathe. Still smiling, he held out his arm and led her outside into the cold, frosty night.

The limousine whisked them to a small town on the edge of St. Petersburg, to a palace that had once belonged to a Romanov tsarina three hundred years before. Illyra ’s eyes widened as the road curved and she got her first view of it. With a gasp, she rolled down the window for a better look.

Beneath the frosted winter moon, she saw the palace that had once been a summer getaway for the Russian royal family. The elegant structure, wide and sprawling, looked like a wedding cake, decked with snow. The limo drove up the avenue, past a wide white lawn lit up by flickering torches.

The limo stopped, and a valet in Illyra ches and an eighteenth-century wig opened Illyra ’s door and helped her out. Feeling the shock of cold, bracing air on her face, she looked around in awe. She touched the green peridot against her skin, beneath her white fur. Standing in this courtyard, she could almost imagine herself as the princess of an ancient, magical land of eternal winter.

She could almost imagine she was a Russian prince’s bride.

His bride. As Andrei took her hand in his own, smiling at her with so much warmth she barely even needed a coat, she could not stop herself from wondering, just for an instant, what it would be like to be his wife. To be the woman he loved, the mother of his children.

“Are you still cold?” he murmured as they passed the bowing doormen.

She shook her head.

“But you’re shivering.”

“I’m just happy,” she whispered.

Stopping inside the palace doors, he pulled her into his arms. Kissing the top of her hair, he looked down at her with a smile.

“At last,” he said softly. “I have what I wanted.”

Searching his gaze, Illyra sucked in her breath. That smile. She couldn’t look away. It was so open. So...young. He looked exactly like the young man she’d first fallen in love with, so long ago.

The man she’d never stopped loving.

As he took her hand to lead her down the elegant hallway, Illyra nearly stumbled in her sparkling high-heeled shoes.

She was in love with him.

She could no longer deny it, even to herself.

Andrei took her into the ballroom, and Illyra barely noticed the exquisite, lavishly decorated space, the gilded walls or the crystal chandeliers high above. She barely spoke when he introduced her to acquaintances. As he led her out onto the dance floor, she didn’t see all the gorgeous people all around them.

She saw only him. She felt only his arms around her, and the rapid thrum of her own heart.

She loved him. It was foolish. It was wrong. But she could no more stop herself than she could stop breathing. She loved him.

For hours, they danced together. They drank champagne. They ate. They danced some more. For Illyra , it all flashed by in a moment. In his arms, she lived a lifetime in every precious minute. The regular laws of time were suspended. Hours sped by in seconds.

Suddenly, as they were dancing, the music stopped. Lifting her cheek from his chest in surprise, Illyra saw it was nearly midnight.

Andrei looked down at her as they stood unmoving on the dance floor, and as the last seconds of the year counted down, for Illyra it was as if time not only became suspended, but was reversed. His gaze locked with hers, and ten years disappeared.

She was eighteen and he was twenty-five. They were in each other’s arms. The world was new. Brand-new.

He cupped her face. “Illyra...”

Cheers went up around them in the ballroom as she heard the last seconds of the year counted down in a jumble of languages, German, French, Chinese, Spanish, English, and Russian loudest of all.

“Pyat...”

“Cheteeri...”

“Tree...”

Lowering his head, Andrei said huskily, “Let’s start the New Year right...”

“Dva...”

“Ahdeen...”

His lips pressed against hers, smooth and rough, hard and sweet. He kissed her, and fire flashed not just through her body, but her soul.

“S’novem godem!” Raucous cheers and the sound of horns and singing revels exploded across the ballroom. “Happy New Year!”

When Andrei finally pulled away from their embrace, Illyra stared up at him, her heart in her throat. She swayed, nearly falling over without his arms around her.

“S’novem godem,” he murmured, cupping her cheek tenderly. “Happy New Year, angel moy.”

She looked up at him.

“I love you,” she choked out.

He stared at her, his eyes wide.

All around them, people were dancing to the music of the orchestra, laughing, drinking champagne, kissing each other. But Andrei was completely still.

Tears filled Illyra ’s eyes as she gave him a trembling smile. “Even when I hated you, I loved you,” she whispered. “When I made the wager in Hawaii to be yours forever, part of me must have been willing to lose that bet, or I never would have made it.” She licked her lips. “You have always been the only man for me. Always.”

He did not answer. His face was pale, his blue eyes as frozen as a glacier.

A chill of fear sneaked into her soul.

“And what I need to know is...” She bit her lip, then lifted her gaze to his. “Can you ever love me?”

Andrei’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he said shortly. He walked past her, leaving her alone on the dance floor.

Mouth agape, Illyra turned and stared after him in amazement. Her cheeks went hot as she noticed exquisitely dressed Russians and other wealthy, beautiful people staring at her with open curiosity. Embarrassed, she walked off the dance floor.