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him. The bed looked rather tempting.
    So too did Alina.
    He couldn’t quite read her. She was curiously provocative, yet Demyan wasn’t sure if she was being deliberately so.
    ‘Some cushions or paintings...’
    ‘Whatever you think,’ Demyan said. ‘Any more questions?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’ Alina said. ‘Or is that the wrong answer?’
    ‘Not this time. I will speak with security and arrange keys.’
    ‘Do I need a set for the agent?’
    ‘No one is to come here unless you are present. Certainly they are not to have access to keys and security codes.’
    It was a completely different world. There was no popping out in your lunch break to get another set cut. Instead, the keys were all security coded and Alina had to sign for them and for an elevator pass as they made their way out.
    ‘I have a lot of staff,’ Demyan said when he saw her frown. ‘I need to keep track of who has access.’
    ‘I’m sure you have a lot of valuables.’
    ‘I value my privacy.’ He had no choice but to address it as they were met by his driver and got back into the car. ‘Alina, you don’t seem to understand my need for discretion.’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘No.’ Demyan would not be placated. ‘When you say things like, “Do I need a set for the agent?” it is clear to me that you do not understand. As soon as word gets out that I am selling my house there will be people trying to arrange to see it. This is the home I bought so that I could spend quality time with my son here, so I could be a proper father to him. I do not want it used as fodder to sell more magazines and I don’t want tourists wandering through it either. Alina, are you quite sure that you know what you are doing here?’
    His jaw gritted when Alina didn’t answer. ‘If you’re not up to it, then have the guts to say so.’ Demyan saw her rapid blink and his mind moved to make concessions, though he didn’t really know why.
    Perhaps he was being too harsh. It was the end of a very long day and she had seemed very confident about the farm.
    ‘I am going back to the hotel. My driver will take you to speak with estate agents.’
    The keys were burning in her hand.
    ‘Have you managed to contact Hassan’s assistant?’ Demyan asked in the car on the way back to the hotel.
    ‘I have.’
    ‘So it’s all organised for tomorrow?’
    ‘There are no bookings available at your first preference.’ She was just a little bit pink as she gave him the news or, rather, invented a tale. ‘But I found a fabulous restaurant on The Quay.’
    ‘Really?’ Demyan frowned. He’d never once had trouble getting a reservation anywhere.
    ‘There’s a wedding on that night,’ Alina hurriedly filled in. ‘It’s been booked out for months. They’re hardly going to move a wedding...’
    ‘They usually would,’ Demyan said. Alina felt her throat squeeze tight. Demyan was right. Had there been a wedding, had she actually rung her work and explained that Demyan Zukov wanted to hold a business dinner there, they would have closed off the area upstairs, they would have moved the wedding outside, they would have done anything to accommodate such an esteemed guest.
    Maybe he wouldn’t mind her working at the restaurant, Alina mused, though that wasn’t the entire issue now.
    Demyan was right, she was in way over her head and, no, she didn’t have the guts to tell him.
    She heard him yawn and stretch. ‘Boris shall take you to speak with agents. If I am not around when you get back, just go at five. How did you get to work this morning?’
    ‘Taxi.’
    ‘Boris will take you home and collect you.’
    ‘I’d rather make my own way.’
    ‘Whatever suits you. If you want to drive then use valet parking.’ He saw her swallow, not just at the cost but at the thought of her tiny, filthy car being valet parked—she’d have to spend the night cleaning it before that happened. ‘We’ll go to the farm tomorrow or early next week.’
    There would be no