Read Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance for Free Online

descent into Moscow, she buckled her seatbelt and exhaled a long breath as her eyes slid closed. This was it – the moment she’d anticipated for what seemed like a lifetime.
    “I’m coming, Alessia.” Her words were murmured in barely a whisper, but no one needed to hear them.
    No one except her.
    Though Cadence had been warned, she was still shocked by the intensity of the cold when she disembarked the airplane. She had to take a short bus ride through the open air in order to reach the terminal and in about ten minutes, she thought she might be frozen solid despite the multiple layers she wore beneath her coat. Then, she had to work her way through the sea of people in the airport, as well as please the customs officials.
    Her cover was that she was preparing for UN placement at the behest of one of the speakers – and as such, she had a new, diplomatic passport. The customs official barely glanced at it before waving her through – and then she was left to her own devices to find the baggage claim. The task would have been a lot harder if she hadn’t spoken Russian – and Cadence had to remind herself not to look as though she knew too much. She had no idea who was watching.
    Eventually, however, she made it seem as though she found the baggage area by happenstance and claimed her luggage.
    Then all there was to do was to look for her ride.
    There was another throng of people waiting at the exit – hawkers for taxis, goods, and a variety of other services in every language from English to Chinese, but Cadence staved them off as politely as she could as she searched for someone holding a sign with her name.
    She scanned the crowd, holding her hands close to her mouth in an attempt to warm them, despite the gloves she wore. The young woman thought she might very realistically freeze to death before she found her ride – and then what would Cresseda say? She reached down to grab her bags, only to grope around in surprise when she found they were gone. Her heart in her throat, Cadence whirled to give a cry of outrage – only to have it die in her throat.
    She found herself standing at the edge of the crowd, the majority of which had parted to let through the man who had obviously come for her.
    And what a man he was.
    For a moment, Cadence had trouble groping for words as she took in the impossible length of his form. “Miss Freedman, I presume?”
    He spoke perfect English, with only the slightest trace of a Russian accent, and Cadence forced herself to snap from her reverie – though it was no easy task. The man had to be close to six and a half feet tall, his skin a pale contrast to the inky black hair that curled about his collar. He had a few days’ worth of carefully groomed stubble on a sharp chin, and eyes so brilliantly green that they seemed to pierce straight through her. His mouth was full – far too full for a man – but somehow, it softened the rest of his sharp features.
    Not only was he tall, but he was broad as well. Though most Russians Cadence met stateside were statuesque and thin, this man looked as though the gym saw his devoted attendance. His tall form was wrapped in a wool coat and scarf, his chest a broad pane that all but blocked her view of the street beyond the airport.
    He smelled amazing – like some mixture of spice and cloves that made her stomach twist in longing, even as she slowly realized that she was in very, very deep trouble.
    Cadence knew this man. His identity had been drilled into her not only by years of schooling, but also in the past six months of her training. She could rattle off everything from his family history to his blood type – and she knew far more than enough to realize that Osip Danshov was obviously taking no chances where she was concerned.
    Demyan Boykov.
    One of Danshov’s close inner circle – resident Russian multi-billionaire, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and all around poster boy for the amazing progress that the country had made over the