Free Prince Voronov's Virgin by Lynn Raye Harris

taken at least six calls since she’d climbed into the car with him outside the hotel.
    But then, that’s what multimillionaire—or billionaire—tycoons did. They made deals over the phone, bought and sold entire companies and transferred millions of dollars, or rubles as the case may be, with aplomb.
    It was a world far outside her realm, in spite of the last few days as Chad’s executive secretary.
    Alexei tucked the phone back into his pocket. “I am sorry for the interruptions,” he said.
    Paige shrugged. “It’s okay,” she replied. “There’s a lot at stake.”
    His gaze sharpened as he studied her. “Yes, there is. And I intend to win, Paige.”
    A shiver skidded through her. She hadn’t been referring toany one deal in particular, but clearly the Valishnikov acquisition was the subject of his many calls. Apprehension was a tight ball in her stomach as she thought of her boss back in Moscow. “So does Chad.”
    He looked out the window behind her as the helicopter began to bank. “Look.”
    She turned to where he’d pointed, her breath catching in her throat. She felt him move behind her on the luxurious leather bench, felt his solid body pressing against hers. It was intimate, casual, but she burned nonetheless.
    Below, the land unfolded itself in a crystalline white blanket. A rich green and white palace sat in the center of the covering. Six massive white columns fronted the building, and ornate friezes clad in gold surrounded each of the myriad windows across the three-level facing. The domes of a small church nearby were a muted gold, though she imagined they would glint in the sun, while white trees reached with bare arms to the dull sky.
    Alexei’s arm was on her shoulder, his cheek near her other ear as he leaned in and pointed. “It is the Voronov Palace,” he said, “built in the early eighteenth century. Look there, at the fountain. It was a gift from Tsar Peter the Great.”
    The fountain in the front courtyard seemed made of gold, its cherubs and mythical creatures frozen in time, waiting for some sign only they knew in order to step down from their perches and frolic in the courtyard.
    The Voronov Palace was fairy tale beautiful, and she felt completely out of her depth being here. She’d been raised in a two-bedroom house with a tiny kitchen and a postage-stamp lawn. Hardly comparable.
    The helicopter made another pass, then began to hover before gliding softly down, its rotors lessening in speed until they were on the ground and a man opened the doorand smiled at them. He said something in Russian. Alexei answered before turning and taking her hand in his.
    Then they were stepping out of the craft and hurrying along a path that had been cleared of snow until they reached the house. Alexei led her inside a grand entry where Paige came to an abrupt stop, her head tilting back and her jaw dropping open.
    The entry was vast, its gilt and alabaster walls rising to a dome that was painted all around with a scene from the bible. Three large crystal chandeliers were suspended from different points of the dome. The glittering crystals threw light into every nook and corner of the fresco, which gleamed with rich golds, deep blues, and vibrant reds.
    “It’s the Adoration of the Madonna,” she said in wonder. Mama’d had a print of a religious scene similar to this one on the wall in their living room. Paige had been so accustomed to it that she’d lost the ability to see it with fresh eyes when she was still quite young.
    But this was like seeing it again for the first time—though clearly this painting was far better. Not to mention
real.
Still, odd as it seemed, it gave her that wistful feeling of home.
    “Da.”
    She looked at Alexei, blinking back tears. For a moment, she’d forgotten he was there. What must it be like to live with this kind of beauty every day of your life?
    He came to her, his gaze filled with concern. “What is wrong, Paige? You are safe with me, I promise