Carol Marinelli - The Price Of His Redemption

‘There’s water,’ Daniil said, ‘and over there is a fridge with some nice contents. The bathroom is through there...’

‘Sorry?’

‘You’re still sitting and I’m clearly on my way out so I assumed you were staying.’

‘Oh!’

Even standing was a challenge with him in the room. Her legs had forgotten their role, and so had her head because she even bent down to retrieve her bag, which, of course, wasn’t there.

‘That’s right, I left it at Reception.’

He made her seem slightly mad.

She felt slightly mad.

As she stepped out of his office it was like walking out of a ten-hour back-to-back session at the movies and blinking at the light.

Libby picked up her bag and gave Snooty Pants a smile then headed for the elevator but she jumped in quiet surprise when she realised that he was standing behind her.

‘I thought that you’d have a special elevator,’ Libby observed. ‘One that only goes up.’

Yes, she thought, he would take her to heaven.

They stepped in and the doors closed and Libby waited for the most excruciating elevator ride of her life to commence, but instead it turned out to be the best ever.

He was checking his phone and then he looked up to where she stood. She was leaning against the wall, gazing at his stunning face, intrigued by his scar.

‘Do you want an early dinner?’ he said, and, just like that, he offered her a delectable slice of his time.

‘Dinner?’

‘Well, I’m hungry and I guess you didn’t have time to eat in your haste to get to your critically injured father.’

Libby’s lips twitched into a smile.

‘And then,’ Daniil continued, ‘there would have been all the shock and relief of finding out that he only had mild concussion.’

She laughed. ‘No, I didn’t have lunch.’

‘So do you want dinner?’ Daniil checked. ‘But on one condition.’

They stepped out and walked across the foyer. She glanced at the receptionist who hadn’t been going to let her in and Libby was tempted to poke out her tongue.

‘What’s the condition?’ she asked.

‘Know that I shan’t be changing my mind.’

‘About?’ Libby frowned and then answered her own question—oh, yes, the reason she was there. ‘I get that.’

They walked out and a car with a driver standing outside was waiting for him.

‘How did he know you were on your way out?’

‘Cindy would have rung down to alert him that I was leaving.’

Cindy!

Well, yes, she would be called that.

As she climbed into the car, one of the many things that Libby was thinking about was how much money she had on her and what the balance on her credit card was.

Her mother had always warned her to have enough money for a taxi ride home and she also wanted to know she had money enough on her card to pay for dinner.

He was, she had read, prone to walking off in the middle of a meal, or a holiday, or a photo shoot in Brazil. When bored, he did not push through politely.

He could leave at any moment, and she accepted that—this was transient and temporary.

She wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Now they were out of his vast office and in the smaller surroundings of a car, his size was more noticeable. Tall, his shoulders were wide, but as he had put on his jacket she had noted just how flat his stomach was.

She was small but he made her feel tiny as she sat beside him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere nice,’ he said.

Nice was a roped-off club that drew a crowd even on a Monday evening.

And it was very nice not to have to queue.

‘Did you have a reservation?’ Libby asked, as they were shown straight in and through.

‘No, I never book anywhere,’ he said as they took a seat. She put her bag on the floor and they put their phones down on the table. ‘How can you know in the morning what you will want that night?’

Second warning bell.

She glanced around and people were staring at them.

She felt a little like she had when she’d done work experience at the library and the real worker had gone to lunch. Someone had asked her a question and had expected her to know the answer.

‘I don’t really work here,’ Libby had wanted to say as she’d tapped away on the computer.

‘I’m not really with him,’ she wanted to correct the curious onlookers.

Except, to her absolute delight, tonight she was!

Oh, she knew it was a one-off, that she was here by default only, but it was such a lovely turn of events that she decided to simply enjoy it.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Daniil asked, as she read through the cocktail menu.

It was overwhelming.

Like him.

Just breathing normally was an impossible feat with him so near.

She gave a slightly helpless shake of her head, which was probably terribly unsophisticated but it was all she could manage.

‘Champagne?’ he checked, and she nodded, but when he gave the order and she heard just what champagne they would be drinking she knew she had better hold on to that attention span of his because her credit card would not be able to cover it.

The champagne was poured and the ice was truly broken when Libby’s phone rang and Daniil glanced down and saw from Libby’s caller ID that it was her father calling.

‘Answer,’ he said.

She did so.

‘I’m sorry, Dad, I did speak to him but the answer’s still no.’

Daniil watched her as she talked.

His invitation to take Libby to dinner had surprised him. She was nothing like his usual type, which was generally close to a foot taller and quite happy to sit bored and silent, just pleased to be seen out with him.

Libby Tennent didn’t sit. She squirmed in the chair as she chatted, one hand was playing with her hair, her eyes were rolling and she was frantically blushing as she spoke with her father. ‘No, I’d say that there’s no chance of him changing his mind.’

Daniil watched.

‘No, I wouldn’t try calling him if I were you, Dad,’ Libby responded when her father suggested he do just that. She gave Daniil a little wink. ‘He’s a very cold person.’

Daniil smiled and took a drink of his champagne.

‘No, I think you’re just going to have to accept that his answer is no. How are you feeling—?’ she attempted, but he had already rung off.

She put down her phone and raised her palms in the air then looked up when Daniil started counting.

‘One,’ Daniil said, and Libby frowned. ‘Two...’ Just as she was about to ask what he meant, his phone rang. ‘I still don’t know how he got my private number.’

He took the call from Lindsey and was about to give his usual cold, brusque response, but, maybe because he knew that he’d be sleeping with his daughter in, say, an hour or so from now, Daniil was a touch more polite than he would usually be.

‘Lindsey, I am sorry to hear about your accident. I’m blocking your number now. Don’t try to get hold of me again.’

He rang off.

‘I feel so bad for him,’ Libby admitted. ‘As well as cross with him for sending me to try to persuade you. I told him I didn’t want to.’

‘So why did you?’

Libby gave a tight shrug. ‘He pointed out that, unlike June, my sister, I do nothing at all for the family business.’

‘What does June do?’

‘She’s a chef.’ Libby sighed. ‘Who married a chef.’

‘A very handy daughter to have for an events planner.’

Libby gave a glum nod. ‘Unlike me.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘She works with my father.’

‘Do you get on?’

‘We do but...’ Libby gave another tight shrug. ‘I’m far too demonstrative for the lot of them. You know, sometimes I’m sure that I’m adop...’ She swallowed down the most appalling faux pas but Daniil just gave a wry smile.