"You only want to save me because you couldn't save your damn mother."

He's right. That's exactly what you're doing.

"No," she whispered, forcing herself to speak. "That's not it at all."

Alex moved suddenly, his fingers catching her chin, tipping her head back, holding her in place. "Isn't it?" he demanded. "Isn't that why you're in here now, trying to get me to talk? Trying to get me to trust you? Trying to get close? It's not for me, sweetheart." The burning fury in his eyes focused on her like a beam of sunlight refracted through a magnifying glass. "What didn't you do for her, Katya? How did you let her die?"

A burst of bright anger flared inside her. "I tried!" She jerked her chin out of his grip. "But she'd lost too much blood and-"

"It's more than that. I can see it in your face."

There were tears in her eyes. God, she hadn't cried for years. Not since her mother had died.

"She was weak, Katya," her father said. "She should have been stronger. Like you."

"I wasn't strong," she whispered, to her father. To herself. "I tried to be, for her. I tried not to make demands, to be a good girl. Tried not to get angry or upset. But it was hard having to take care of her all the time. I was the child and I wanted my mother to take care of me. But she couldn't. And in the end, she broke." Katya looked down at the floor, her chest hurting, her throat tight, unable to meet his gaze. It was difficult to be vulnerable, like giving someone a knife and then baring your throat. "After she died, my father told me I shouldn't grieve. That she was weak. And that from now on he was going to make sure I wouldn't be." She paused. "And I wasn't. That's what I am, Alex. I am strong. So I can make sure no one else breaks."

A silence fell over the office like a thick blanket. Heavy and suffocating.

"No, you're still trying to be strong for her," Alex said at last, a bitter note in his voice. "When she should have been the one to be strong for you. She should have been the one protecting you. Just like my father should have protected me."

Slowly, she lifted her head. His gaze was black, dark holes into nothingness.

"I always thought Dad broke because of the secrets he kept from my mother. The lies he must have told. But it wasn't, was it? He didn't save me. And maybe that was what got to him in the end."

She took a slow, silent breath, staring at Alex's set face, everything drawn tight and close to his skull. He looked like he was in agony. "That was the only thing I had. That I saved him, protected him. That was the only thing that kept me going. And then he died. But at least he didn't know; that's what I told myself. At least Dad didn't know what I had to do for him." His gaze moved past her, to the window looking out onto the club. "But he did know. He was the one who fed me to the fucking dogs. He didn't save me. He didn't protect me. I was nothing to him in the end."

Pain spread out inside her. A raw, angry hurt for the boy he'd once been and the man he was now. For the betrayal that she knew cut like a razor. A dull, blunt razor. Leaving scars in its wake, bloody wounds that never healed.

"I'm sorry," she said thickly. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I didn't mean to force you to share things you didn't want." She took a step toward him, her heart aching. "But you should know that you matter, Alex. And I would have saved you. I would have protected you."

"How do you know?" His gaze shifted back to hers, glittering in the darkness. "How do you know if I'm even worth saving?"

Her heart broke for him then, a crack running straight down the center. "Of course you're worth saving."

"Why? What have I done for anyone? I've been a selfish prick all my damn life. The only thing that was worth a damn didn't even end up counting."

She couldn't keep that distance between them any longer. Moving before she was even aware of doing so, Katya closed the remaining gap, coming right up close, standing in front of him. She didn't touch him even though her fingers desperately wanted to trace the line of his jaw, ease the tension from his mouth. She got the sense that a touch would be a step too far right now.

"Alex, no." Her voice sounded like she had a throat full of cotton wool. "It counted. Just because he knew all along doesn't lessen what you did for him. Because you did it out of love. You loved him. You wanted to protect him."

Alex looked away. "I've done nothing but hurt people, Katya. My mother. Honor." A long pause. Then his attention shifting back to her. "You."

He shouldn't have walked away from her in the foyer, but he couldn't face talking about it. Having her sharp, perceptive stare on him. He couldn't bear the thought of her realizing what he already knew deep in his heart. That there was no one behind the mask of Alex St. James, playboy gambler. Or if there was, it was a man who had no value. Who wasn't worth saving.

Her face was pale in the dim light of the office, the brilliant green of her eyes shadowed. And he hated the look in those eyes because she was looking at him like he was someone worth saving after all.

And it was a lie. His whole fucking life was a lie. One big pretense. Cards and booze and women and money, all distractions so people wouldn't see the truth. That there was nothing and no one there.

"You have not hurt me," Katya said, her voice thickening.

"Haven't I? I made you come here. I drew you into this shit with Conrad knowingly. I used you. I seduced you. I played with you like some-" He broke off abruptly as her hand pressed to his chest, the heat of her palm stopping the words in his throat. The expression on her face was fierce, like she was angry.

"I'm not some weak little girl, Alex. You know this. Yes, you drew me into this and yes, you played with me. But you also challenged me. You woke something in me I didn't even realize was there, something I lost when my mother died." Her hand pressed harder. "Pleasure. Sensuality. And at the same time you had nothing but respect for my skills. You never ran them down or mocked them. You didn't even care when I beat you on the mat." Her thumb was moving on his chest, stroking. "You let me protect you and you used my strength the way I asked you to. What more could a bodyguard ask for? What more could a woman ask for?"

Her touch was painful. Her words hurt even more. "Katya, you can't-"

"Your father made a choice, Alex. Just like my mother. And though we can hate the choice they made, the responsibility for that choice lies with them. Not us." She stepped even closer, her body millimeters from his. "We can't blame ourselves for their choices. We can't let them break us."

"Stop," he said quietly, because it hurt, it just fucking hurt. "Stop trying to save me."

"I'm not. I'm trying to help you save yourself."

The words struck home, catching on something inside him. And he suddenly felt swamped by the scent of oranges and musk. By seductive warmth and softness. Strength and sensuality. Everything that had been missing in that bathroom in that casino. In his whole goddamn life.

He met her eyes, looking into the green heart of her, the gold flecks glittering like buried treasure, burning with her fierce, indomitable will. "Don't let him win, Alexei," she whispered. "Don't give Conrad this victory too."

And he knew exactly what she meant, because it was true. Conrad had told Alex about his father to hurt him. To exert his power over him. To make him feel like he was worthless. Even now, nineteen years later, that prick was still making him bleed.

"I don't want to," he said hoarsely. "I was supposed to be the one taking the victory. Taking everything he had and putting a gun to his fucking head. Finally getting over what he did to me. Putting it behind me once and for all. But now, shit ... Even that's been taken from me."

Her other hand joined the one already on his chest. "But you don't need that to put it behind you." Her fingers spread out on the cotton of his shirt. "Because that won't change anything, Alex. The change has to come from you, don't you see? Conrad is a liar. To win you have to believe you're actually worth saving."

He didn't even realize he'd raised his hand until he felt his fingers close in the golden softness of hair, gripping it tight in his fist. His lifeline. "How do I do that, Katya?" he said hoarsely, desperately. "What if there's nothing left to save?"

She looked up at him, her body pressing gently against his, warm and pliable as candle wax. Something glittered in her eyes. "There is," she whispered. "There is so much." Slowly, her fingers undid the top button of his shirt, then another and another. Then she slipped her hand beneath the cotton, the heat of her palm against the bare skin of his chest, settling over his heart. "There is you." Her thumb moved over his skin, back and forth, stroking. And it wasn't sexual, only reassuring. Affirming.

He'd never had that kind of touch before. Or if he had, it was before he'd left home, when he'd still had a family who cared about him. Before everything had blown apart.

After that the only people who'd touched him were his lovers, and from them he only wanted sex, not comfort. Escape, not reassurance. But now ... Now he craved Katya's touch in a way that had nothing to do with lovemaking. It went deeper than that. It went all the way down to his soul, a bone-deep yearning that he was powerless to stop.

So he didn't.

Alex pulled away, then took her hand. Her forehead creased as he led her to the couch in the middle of his office and sat on the edge of it.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, looking down at him, still frowning.

"I want you to hold me."

Her mouth opened, then shut; a small, strangely tender smile curved her mouth. It made his heart ache. She didn't say anything, only sitting down beside him and putting her arms around him. He turned his head, his cheek against her hair, gathering her as close in turn.

"Lie down with me," he murmured.

And she did, shifting with him as he stretched out on the couch with her beside him, her long, lithe body pressed against his, her arms around him. Holding him.

He turned his face into her neck, inhaling the unique, sweet scent that was all her, and felt her fingers in his hair, gently stroking, over and over.

They didn't move for a long time. And they didn't speak. There was no need. The warmth of her body next to his, the feeling of her fingers in his hair, was all the communication he needed.

Outside the office, the music thumped and the noise of the crowd battered against the walls.

They probably all thought he was doing her on the desk. Or on the floor, or wherever.

They'd never dream he was actually lying on the couch with her, fully clothed, letting her hold him. And it was strange to think that right now, in this moment, that was even better than being inside her. That even though they were dressed, they were closer to each other than if they'd been naked.

He didn't know how that worked, and quite frankly, he didn't much care. Because he'd never felt like this before. As if, for the first time in nineteen years, he was at peace.

As if he didn't have to run.

Alex closed his eyes, his arms tightening around her.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe there was something left of him after all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

As the plane touched down at JFK, Katya shifted in her seat. It felt odd to be back in her bodyguard pants and shirt. To not be restricted by a too-tight skirt or ridiculously tall high heels. It even felt strange to have her Springfield back where it belonged, in the shoulder holster she wore under her jacket.

Seated opposite her, Alex seemed to be having no such issues, his attention totally focused on the laptop he had open on his knees.

They'd left Monaco that morning and she'd spent most of the flight-to her own surpriseasleep. Unsurprising considering the night they'd spent together. They'd both fallen asleep on the couch in his office and then woken sometime in the night, starving for each other.

He'd taken her upstairs to their suite, where they'd dealt with that hunger, not falling asleep until dawn. Nothing was said about what would happen when they got back to New York. The time hadn't been right and there were better things for them to be doing.

But they really needed to talk about it now. For a start, her contract with him would be fulfilled, which meant she could leave. And she also needed to make sure he'd be true to his promise to help her with Mikhail.

There's another thing you're ignoring. Your feelings about him.

Her feelings were ... irrelevant. A variable she hadn't counted on and one that wouldn't affect anything. She still had a promise to Mikhail to keep, a loyalty to fulfill, and she couldn't go back on that regardless of how she felt about Alex.

"Fucking New York," Alex murmured as the plane began to decelerate. "Another beautiful day, as usual."

It wasn't a beautiful day. The sky outside was gray, the clouds heavy with more snow to add to the piles already on the ground.

"Alex," Katya began. "I need to-"

"Talk to me?" he finished. "Don't worry. It's been taken care of."

She frowned. "What's been taken care of?"

Alex closed the laptop abruptly. "I should have told you last night."

"Told me what?"

"I called Zac. I gave him the go-ahead for the operation to get Vasin out."

Katya blinked, the news taking a couple of moments to sink in. "Mr. Rutherford is rescuing Mikhail...? But ... when did this happen?"

"I called him last night. Before you came into the office." He glanced down at his watch. "Zac had a contact where Vasin is being held and the operation was carried out a couple of hours ago."

She straightened in her seat, shock coursing through her. "You should have told me. I wanted to know-"

"I'm sorry, Katya. I really am. But..." He hesitated. "I forgot last night, and this morning, well, you know me; I'm a selfish bastard. I didn't want you thinking of him. I wanted you all to myself."

Her throat felt dry, the strange ache in her chest painful. Perhaps she should have been angry that he'd kept it from her, but she wasn't. No, she was pleased. Pleased he'd wanted her that badly, that he'd been selfish about it.

She folded her hands in her lap. "You know what this means?"

"Yes." Slowly, Alex leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "It means you'll be leaving my employ and going back to Russia."

His tone was so cool and matter-of-fact, and a tiny hot spark of anger flared inside her. Which didn't make any sense, since she'd made the decision to leave herself. She found her hands clasped together tighter than they should have been. "I won't be returning. You understand that, don't you?"

"I realize that."

She searched his face, though she couldn't have said what she was searching for. Whatever it was, she didn't see it. There was regret in his expression but nothing else.

Katya ignored the inexplicable twist of anguish in her heart. "I'll be sorry to leave," she said levelly. "I've enjoyed my time with you."

There was a long, tense silence.

"Fuck this," Alex said suddenly, and leaned forward, reaching out to take her hands in his. The look of polite regret on his face had vanished as if it had never been, his eyes blazing blue. "Don't go, Katya." His voice was fierce. "Stay with me."

Shock pulsed through her. For a second she couldn't move, a burst of something bright racing through her veins. His hands were warm around hers and all she could think about was the feeling of him in her arms on the couch the night before.

His long, lean body had been still and relaxed, and he'd let her touch him. Let her give him comfort and reassurance. With nothing sexual getting in the way, there had been only trust and a deep, wordless understanding between them that even now she couldn't stop thinking about.

And that terrified her. Her emotions were already far too involved as it was; she couldn't afford to get in any deeper. The things she felt for him made her feel exposed, weak. And she couldn't be weak. She had to stay strong. For him. For Mikhail.

For yourself.

"I'm sorry. I can't." Her voice sounded strangely flat. "I made a promise. I'm sure you understand."

A silence fell, the blue flame in his eyes burning hot. And for a moment she thought he was going to argue, was going to try to convince her otherwise. Then the flame flickered and went out. Alex let go of her hands and sat back in his seat, looking away, out through the window at the gray sky welcoming them back to New York. "Sure. I understand. It's a pity. I've enjoyed having you around." Like hers, his voice was flat.

Her fingers felt cold, as if he'd sucked all the heat right out of her when he'd let her go. And her chest ached even worse, anguish twisting tighter.

She ignored it. She'd allowed her armor to crack with this man, had let him in a little way. And it had been glorious while it lasted. But she couldn't open herself more, not when she had another man to save.

Use Mikhail as an excuse if it makes you feel better. You're just afraid.