To Love A Hero (International Romance Series) Read online

  After they climbed out of the vehicle, an officer met them on the terrace. “Colonel Nicolai Nicouvitch. Dobroye outroh, good morning.” He shook hands with them. “Dr. Lornier, welcome to Minsk and the Hall of Officers. John, good to see you again.”

  “Nice to meet you, Colonel. I’m very impressed,” Cecile said with a chuckle. “You can’t beat this. A historical palace to host my first business meeting in Minsk.” Cecile turned toward Tania, still in the van. “Please pass on this suitcase.” She reached inside the van. “John, can I count on you to hand out my company’s folders?”

  “Sure, sure.” John nodded his approval and she relaxed. By distributing the gifts himself, John was not about to forget the generous gesture of EnviroAnalytical Laboratory. Cecile’s boss would be pleased.

  “Allow me.” The colonel grabbed the heavy piece of luggage containing the folders and carried it with as much ease as if it was an empty bag.

  Cecile couldn’t say whether it was the cheerful welcome of the colonel, or the glorious sunshine warming her face that lifted her spirits. In contrast to the last evening and her harsh arrival in Minsk, the kickoff meeting promised to be hospitable, perhaps even pleasant.

  A light breeze ruffled her hair as she squinted at the three-story edifice and snapped her first picture of Belarus. Ushered by Colonel Nicouvitch, she and John ascended two flights of marble stairs. Endless corridors and successive waiting rooms led them to the famous Red Hall.

  Combing her hair with her fingers, Cecile halted at the door and scanned the unending gallery. “Awesome,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the majesty of the place. The red-carpeted room easily covered three thousand square feet. She recovered her voice and asked, “May I take pictures here?”

  “Of course. Notice the Seal of Belarus.” Colonel Nicouvitch pointed to a wall decorated with a mounted knight in the center of an enormous medallion. An orange and green flag hung next to the seal.

  With the colonel at her side, Cecile strolled through the twenty-foot space separating two parallel tables lined up along the length of the room. “Do you often meet in this hall?”

  “Only on important occasions. We gathered here three months ago when our Major Generalle was put in charge of coordinating the Belarusian-American project.” Colonel Nicouvitch fixed a glittering gaze on the seal adorning the wall. Was he reliving the previous meeting?

  “A momentous event for Belarus?”

  “Oh yes, Dr. Lornier. You could have heard the applause that greeted the happy news all the way to the street.”

  Such pride suffused his voice. She could almost picture the Major General receiving a standing ovation from his loyal officers. The general was a hero. A real hero. Long buried memories of another hero flooded her heart.

  A commotion at the door attracted everyone’s attention. Several officers strutted in, a magnificent display of male perfection.

  She was the only woman present. Excitement and worry fluttered in her heart.

  A congenial smile on his lips, Colonel Roussov waved at her. She hardly had time to return his greeting and reached her chair.

  “Lady and Gentlemen, please take your seats,” Colonel Nicouvitch ordered over the microphone. When everyone was seated, he announced, “The Major Generalle of Belarus, Sergei Fedorin.”

  The Major General marched in, his stance regal. His shoulders seemed to widen as he reached his place at the center of the table facing her. The officers stood and saluted.

  Cecile remembered him as tall and handsome. Now, he appeared so imposing, so vibrant…and just yesterday, he’d held her in his arms.

  The general returned the salute. A fleeting smile shaped his lips and a hint of a bow acknowledged her presence. She clasped her hands in her lap to prevent them from shaking. The general reminded her of the picture she carried in her purse like a good omen. The young hero in uniform with whom she compared every man she met—her father.

  This was not how she’d imagined her first business meeting in Minsk. Damn it, she’d attended hundreds of meetings and conferences during her ten-year career, always assertive and prepared. Today, her emotions were wreaking havoc with the cool composure of a scientist and businesswoman.

  Annoyed at herself, she breathed deeply. Get a grip, Cecile Lornier. The general was just another customer, even if he was not exactly her next-door-neighbor type.

  General Fedorin picked up the microphone from the table. “Dobroye outroh. Good morning, Mr. Gordon, Dr. Lornier, distinguished guests and colleagues…”

  He focused on her face while insisting he counted on her to help his nation. “The radioactivity spread by the Chernobyl disaster has polluted our country. So many people have been affected by cancer. So many young lives have been destroyed. So many loved ones are gone forever. We need to act fast. We need to clean our environment before more people suffer.”

  His voice filled the huge room and her heart. Cecile winced, an added responsibility suddenly thumped on her shoulders. She had come to refurbish an old laboratory. Now the general expected her to share his fight against pollution.

  John took over, his speech more or less a repeat of the general’s words. He waved a hand toward her. “Dr. Lornier, Director of EnviroAnalytical Laboratory in Boston, presented an excellent proposal and won the Belchem contract.”

  Aware of the attendance eyeing her with curiosity, Cecile grabbed the microphone with both hands and tightened her fingers around it. Bracing herself for her first international speech, she swallowed down her nerves and looked straight at the general. He nodded and she improvised a response, stopping after every sentence for translation.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I’m very pleased to be in Belarus. Refurbishing the Belchem Laboratory will be a joint effort. Together we will establish an efficient, modern laboratory. I will explain my plans in detail after I visit the Belchem Laboratory. Thank you for your warm welcome.” She smiled and pushed the microphone away, feeling back in control.

  John presented gifts to the Belarusians on her behalf and the officers came to thank her. General Fedorin lingered a bit too long as he held her hand. He peered into her eyes, challenging. “This project may prove difficult. My countrymen rely on this contract for their health and safety.”

  “I won’t let them down.” She stiffened at the mix of doubt and admiration in the look he leveled on her.

  “We have several points to discuss but it can wait.” His gaze softened. “Right now, we need to celebrate the beginning of a successful working relationship.” He turned toward John. “I hope you and Dr. Lornier will join me in my office for a toast of vodka?”

  “We’d love to,” John said with his usual contented smile. He hadn’t even bothered to consult with her.

  Annoyed, she turned to follow General Fedorin, but Colonel Roussov approached her, a cup in his hands. “I noticed you were rubbing your fingers. This hot tea will warm you up.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. You’re very thoughtful.”

  Roussov inched closer. “If you need any help, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “I’ll certainly do so.”

  “Dr. Lornier, I must inform you that I control the Customs Bureau. You will need a customs permit and my signature to bring the scientific equipment into our country.” He patted her shoulder in a paternal gesture. “But my dear Dr. Lornier, I will be at your side during the project.”

  Could she tell him she really didn’t want him at her side? She’d rather stay as far as possible from his hawk-like gaze. Tania’s comments about his former KGB function nagged her more than she wanted to admit. Cecile took a step back and summoned a formal smile. “I appreciate your kindness, Colonel.”

  Under furrowed brows, his eyes darkened. Was he assessing her? His mouth twitched. “I do not understand why the U.S. aid consists of useless instruments. Our country could use food or agricultural machines to produce food.”

  “But, Colonel, I thought your Ministry of Defense specified the requirements of this contract,” she r
etorted without bothering to explain the benefits of her project.

  “Not the Ministry, Dr. Lornier. One man, the Major Generalle decides whatever pleases him.”

  She shot a glance at General Fedorin who stood by the door. He answered with a penetrating look, a silent message she wished she understood.

  Roussov’s gaze darted in the same direction. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, his hand as cold as a snake crawling over her skin. “If I may confide in you. Fedorin is a ruthless womanizer with a lot of charm. My daughter was seventeen and innocent when he seduced her. She defied me and married him.”

  “Your daughter? The Major General?” A shiver ran down her spine but she straightened her back and struggled to keep her cool.

  “Yes, our Major Generalle himself,” he rasped into her ear. “He abandoned her during her illness. She died alone. Neglected and miserable.”

  “I’m sorry for your daughter.” Her mind reeling, she tried to sympathize with the sorrow of an agonized father.

  His tone hardened with a fierce edge. “He killed her as surely as if he had aimed a gun at her head.”

  Roussov’s alcohol-tinted breath banished the oxygen from the air. “I warn you. Fedorin is not to be trusted. Forget Fedorin. Forget this contract. Help me bring food and money to Belarus.”

  Jolted back to the reality of her business, she eyed him coldly. She would never ignore her contract. Not for Colonel Roussov or even for his hunky son-in-law.

  “I have a contract to fulfill.”

  “You remind me of my poor daughter. A very naïve girl. Be careful, my dear.” His paternal smile was back in place. “Anyway, I will be happy to support your effort and protect you from unwelcome people.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice stifled and unnatural.

  He bowed and turned away.

  Why would she need protection? And from whom, exactly?

  Still stunned by the incredible revelation, she glanced at General Fedorin. He was watching her intently. She had trouble visualizing the noble Major General as a heartless husband.

  Before she could recover, Nicolai pulled her out of her distressing thoughts. “Excuse me, Dr. Lornier, my Generalle expects you.”

  Cecile took a deep breath. Too many emotions churned in her heart and she wished she could run to her hotel room to sort through them.

  At the door, General Fedorin seemed to ignore John’s monologue. His stern expression broke into a welcoming grin as she neared him. He cupped her elbow and escorted her out of the Red Hall. John followed with Nicolai along the dark corridor.

  The general unlocked a door with a sculpted bronze key, entered a small antechamber, and proceeded through a double set of doors lined with thick leather. Cecile halted and examined the empty space between the two sets of doors.

  “For soundproofing,” John whispered in her ear. “Special privilege for high-ranking personalities.”

  She’d expected the general’s office to be rudimentary, reflecting a military simplicity, and she was agreeably surprised by its classy elegance. The cherry wood desk, credenza, matching bookcase and cocktail table lent an aura of prestige to the spacious room.

  The general gestured to the brown leather sofa and chairs. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  Cecile exchanged business cards with the two officers. Fedorin glanced at her card and shoved it into the drawer of his desk. While John settled in one of the leather chairs, Nicolai extracted a bottle of vodka and small glasses from a closet, then filled the shot glasses and distributed them.

  The general raised his glass in a toast. “Welcome to Belarus. Moy drouk, my friends, I wish you a happy stay in my beautiful country. Na zdorovie. To your health.”

  The men emptied their glasses in one shot. Cecile swallowed a first sip. In Boston, she had tried the foreign liquor diluted with orange juice and ice cubes. Today, she experienced the burning effect of straight, unadulterated Belarusian vodka.

  The general led her to the sofa and sat beside her. “Dr. Lornier, you hardly touched your drink.” He chuckled. “Let me show you how to drink vodka. One of us makes a toast. You raise your glass and you swallow it all at once. Bottoms up, as you Americans say.”

  Nicolai filled a second round. John hauled his corpulent frame off his chair. “I propose a toast to the success of our joint project in Minsk.”

  The men chorused, “Bottoms up.”

  She raised her glass, then emptied half of her drink and brought her hand to her throat. She could swear it was on fire.

  Waggling his finger at her, John chuckled. “You cheated. You left half the vodka in your glass. With each toast, you’ll get better.”

  “I’m a vodka novice,” she said in a pitiful voice, her face burning, her eyes tickling. “How many toasts will we drink?”

  John burst out laughing. “By the end of the afternoon, you’ll lose count.”

  Cecile shook her head. “That was my last one.” As an executive, she had often shared all-male meetings and learned to stand on her own feet, never allowing anyone to intimidate her.

  The general focused a pensive gaze on her. She raised her brows in a silent question.

  “Dear Dr. Lornier, we won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. I would like you to stay for a few more minutes. Colonel Nicouvitch will explain some of the suggestions I have already discussed with Mr. Gordon during his last visit.” Turning toward John, he added, “Thank you for coming. We will see you at the Belchem Lab.”

  John was responsible for her safety in Belarus. She tossed a quick look in his direction, expecting him to politely protest and stay with her but John nodded with a nonchalant smile and left.

  After an uncomfortable moment of quiet, Cecile stole a glimpse at the general. How could he dismiss her colleague so casually?

  Totally unaware of her discomfort, the general waved toward his colonel. “Explain.”

  Nicolai dutifully nodded. “A year ago, we thought about analyzing some samples collected from around Minsk in a European laboratory but the cost was too prohibitive for our government—”

  “Dr. Lornier,” the general interrupted. “We need to find out immediately if our soil is heavily contaminated with toxic substances. We all know the refurbishment of the Belchem Laboratory will not happen overnight. For the sake of our citizens, I would like you to send some samples for analysis in your Boston laboratory…” He paused and arched his eyebrows. “Although your project does not include this extra task.”

  Cecile caught his intense gaze and felt her face flush. She didn’t appreciate his authoritative tone but for the sake of his citizens she wouldn’t take offense. She rubbed her forehead then pressed her thumb on her temple to dissipate the effect of the vodka. The general’s request—or rather demand—would require spending more money. Could she afford going over budget for this extra task?

  “I’ll need to think about it without the boosting effect of the vodka.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Can we discuss it in a couple of days?”

  “Absolutely,” Nicolai said. “You will let us know when you reach a decision. Excuse me now.”

  The door closed behind him.

  She was alone with the general. She glanced at the door and then at her host. Was there anything else to talk about? And why had he sent John and Nicolai away? Discussing business didn’t require privacy.

  Roussov’s warning came to haunt her. Her pulse accelerated. She bounced from the sofa, determined to follow Nicolai.

  “Dr. Lornier, please.” Raising his hand like a stop sign, the general barred the way. “When Mr. Gordon introduced you yesterday, I was taken aback.” The authoritative edge disappeared from the general’s tone. “We are not used to dealing with women in international business. We assumed Cecil was a man.”

  Had he detained her to apologize for his officers’ blunder? Unsure, she leveled her gaze on his and waited for more.

  “Please.” He gestured to the place she’d just vacated. Reluctantly, she sat on the ed
ge of the sofa, waiting for him to deliver a trump card, while he settled in a chair across from her. “You are quite young for such an important contract. It is a difficult responsibility.”

  Damn his condescension. It wasn’t an apology after all. He doubted her competence. “Believe me, General, my position was not handed to me on a silver platter.”

  Far from it. How could she describe the frenzy of the last two months? The planning, the meetings, the brainstorming, the arguments. Cecile had hardly slept four hours a night while studying the best way to perform the project—and keep Rob’s claws off her contract.

  The patronizing wrap of Rob’s arm around her shoulders had knocked the air out of her lungs when he’d proudly announced he’d been chosen to head the Environmental Division. The very position she’d worked so hard to reach, while the worthless bastard played golf every Saturday with the company VP.

  She tilted her chin up, determined to forget about the past months and her ex-fiancé. “I competed against several executives—all men—for this contract. My proposal beat the others fairly. I was chosen by our Department of Defense to manage the project.” She released a deep breath, hating to sound defensive.

  The general nodded with understanding. “Please, don’t read any disrespect into my question, just admiration and surprise.”

  Cecile eyed him, not believing a word of his flowery talk. She wondered how many women had succumbed to his irresistible charm. The man was devilishly handsome and seemed to be an expert at smooth talking. Thank God, she was immune to this brand of attraction.

  An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth. “We are two civilized partners.”

  Two partners? Did he think her naїve enough to trust his sudden acceptance? “I’m glad to hear you say that.” She plastered a smile on her lips. Would she ever be able to relax in his presence?

  He flattened his palm on the arm of the sofa and leaned forward, robbing her of breathing space. His clean masculine smell and a hint of the Old Spice he seemed to favor enveloped her and she remembered the feel of being held in his arms. Unease tightened her chest.