The Russian's Ultimatum

Her chest felt full and heavy and she suddenly realised she was on the verge of tears.

‘Who is Hugo?’ Pascha asked. ‘You mentioned him earlier.’

Emily sighed.

‘Hugo is my boss. Or perhaps I should say was my boss.’

Pascha arched a brow. ‘Was?’

‘Unless Hugo’s had a new heart transplanted into him, I won’t have a job to go back to. Most employers wouldn’t be happy about a key member of staff taking off for a week’s leave on a whim, especially when that member of staff has already been given an official warning for taking too many unauthorised absences.’ Stopping herself, Emily clamped her lips together. Pascha didn’t care about her or her job. All she was to him was a potential threat that had to be hidden away.

Fashion design was all she’d ever wanted to do. But she shouldn’t complain about Hugo. He’d been incredibly supportive through what had been a horrific time, at least initially, but he had a business to run—something he’d made abundantly clear when he’d given her that official warning less than a month ago.

After a long, thoughtful pause, Pascha said in a softer tone, ‘I’m certain that if you explain the situation when you return Hugo will understand. He must know how ill your father is.’

Emily felt her heart lurch at the unexpected kindness from Pascha. Heartlessness she could cope with, but not that. Not now when her stomach felt so knotted she was having trouble holding down the beautiful food she’d just eaten.

Her mother had adored lobster, had been the person to teach her how to demolish one so effectively.

A wave of despair almost had her doubled over, lancing her stomach with a thousand thorns.

Her darling, darling mother; oh, how she missed her.

Emily fought to control her emotions. She couldn’t let him see it. She just couldn’t. He had enough power over her already.

‘I...I need to get some sleep,’ she said, backing away from him. ‘Was there anything else you wanted?’

He shook his head, a strange, penetrative expression in his eyes.

She gave a brief nod and turned on her heel, forcing her rubbery legs to walk.

By the time Emily slid the door of her cabin shut, the grief had abated and her sudden tears had retreated back into their ducts.

Sinking onto the bed, she gazed up at the ceiling.