Читать книгу Modern Romance October 2015 Books 1-4 - Эбби Грин, Annie West - Страница 18

CHAPTER NINE

A DISTANT DOOR slammed and a little boy came running into the room, pulling off his waterproof jacket and shaking his head like a puppy. Raindrops showered down over the worn carpet as Erin stepped forward to take the jacket from her son.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said, trying to act as normally as possible, but it wasn’t easy. How could she act normally when Dimitri was standing there staring at Leo—his blue eyes burning with what looked like a distinct sense of ownership? She thought how out of place he looked in his expensive grey suit, dominating the small room at the back of the café. She wished she’d asked her sister to stay for some moral support, but had decided against it at the last minute. She needed to do this on her own. With Leo. Just the three of them. Swallowing down her anxiety, she replaced it with a bright smile as she looked at her son. ‘Darling, I want you to meet a friend of mine.’

Leo, a child who always seemed to be in perpetual motion, stood and stared up at the man with all the unembarrassed curiosity of a child.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Dimitri. And you’re Leo.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Your mummy did.’

A silent look passed between them.

‘Why do you talk in that funny voice?’

‘Because I am from Russia.’

‘Where’s Russia?’

Dimitri smiled. ‘It is a vast and magnificent land which straddles both Europe and Asia. We have lots of snow in winter and very beautiful buildings which are like no others you will ever see. I could show you where it is on a map if you would like that.’ He lifted his gaze to Erin’s. ‘Do you have any maps around the place, Erin?’

‘I’m sure I can find one,’ she said, but her heart was beating very fast and she wasn’t sure why.

It turned out to be one of the most bizarre evenings of her life. During occasional moments of wistfulness or vulnerability, she’d sometimes tried to picture Dimitri with his son but had found it impossible to imagine the icy oligarch being warm and loving towards a child. Maybe she had misjudged him, or he was a better actor than she’d thought—because soon Leo was sitting happily up beside him as he pointed out seas and rivers on the map.

She’d told him that he couldn’t just swoop into their lives and carry Leo off to Russia—that he had to get to know the little boy first. She just hadn’t expected it to go so well. And when, a week later, she walked into the room and found two heads of molten gold bent over the table together in silent concentration as Dimitri showed Leo a photograph, a shiver of something like fear whispered over her skin.

Already they were sharing secrets.

Already she was the outsider.

‘What’s that?’ she said, glancing down at the photograph, which showed a beautiful house.

Dimitri raised his head. ‘It’s a place outside Moscow which I own.’

‘That’s...nice,’ she said, her voice growing uncertain.

He smiled but Erin could see a flicker of triumph in his blue eyes. ‘And I think we should take Leo there,’ he said.

‘Can we go, Mummy?’ Leo was asking, a look of excitement on his face. ‘Can we?’

Erin stared into the eyes which glittered so icily above Leo’s head and felt a punch of helpless rage. Hadn’t he ever heard of consensus? Of running it past her first? Of course not. He didn’t negotiate with women, because they always caved in and gave him exactly what he wanted. ‘I’m not sure if I can get anyone to cover for me at the café—not at such short notice.’

‘I can get you all the cover you need,’ he said, with cool assurance. ‘Neither you nor your sister need worry about a thing.’

He was just going to throw money at the problem, Erin thought. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. This was going to happen whether she liked it or not.

‘In that case, I don’t see why not,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s half-term next week, after all.’

* * *

Moscow was a city straight out of a fairy tale. As if Walt Disney had met with the local architects and been given a free hand in its design. Intricate buildings were topped with brightly coloured turrets shaped like artichokes. Golden monuments dazzled with giant stars. Statuesque government buildings lined the wide Moskva River, where boats drifted by in slow motion—all seen from the helicopter which had been waiting to whisk them away from the airport.

Despite her reservations about the trip, Erin could feel a growing sense of excitement as she looked around, while Leo was almost incoherent with delight as the bird-like craft whirred over the Russian capital.

‘Will it snow?’ asked Leo eagerly as he stared up into the clear blue sky. ‘Will it? My teacher says it always snows in Russia.’

‘Not always,’ answered Dimitri. ‘It usually starts at the end of October, so we may just miss it.’

Leo scowled. ‘But I want snow. I want to build a snowman!’

‘In that case...’ Dimitri smiled ‘...we might just have to come back again when it’s colder.’

His words made Erin’s fingers stiffen as she wound her new pashmina around her neck. She was trying not to fret about how her son would readjust to life in Bow after a trip like this, because how could he fail to be affected by Dimitri’s lifestyle? If he’d tasted private jets and helicopters and fast cars, surely it would seem mundane to have to hop on the local bus. If the man organising all this had only to lift his hand for someone to cater to his every whim—as had been demonstrated on every step of their journey—then wouldn’t Leo be seduced by that, no matter how hard she’d tried to bring him up to appreciate the simple things in life?

And what about her? Was she also in danger of being affected by the Russian influence and undeniable sex appeal? She’d been so sure of the person she was. Someone who didn’t want to believe in love any more. Someone who’d had her fingers burned and her heart bruised when she’d fallen for her oligarch boss all those years ago. She’d convinced herself that she had learned her lesson and would never allow herself to feel like that again.

So why was Dimitri dominating her thoughts like a pop song she couldn’t get out of her head? She knew he was no good for her. He’d made it clear he no longer wanted her. He’d had sex with her and then just pushed her away afterwards. He’d rejected her all over again and it hurt. It hurt like hell.

She shot a glance at his profile, at the high slash of his cheekbones and hard set of his lips. The sun was flooding into the helicopter, making him look precious and powerful—as if he’d been dipped in gold.

‘Look down there,’ said Dimitri, his rich accent breaking into her troubled thoughts. ‘We’re nearly there.’

They were passing over a huge patch of dark and impenetrable trees before beginning their descent towards the smooth circle of a helipad on the outskirts of the forest. A rush of air came up to meet them and a man on the ground signalled to the pilot—his hair plastered to his head as the craft came rocking to a halt. The blades stopped spinning and Dimitri jumped out, holding up his arms to Leo, while Erin exited the craft with as much grace as possible, glad she’d worn trousers.

A four-wheel drive was waiting and Dimitri took the wheel, speeding along a straight road which looked uncannily quiet after the crowded streets of Moscow. Soon they were entering the forest through a concealed and guarded entrance and passing mansion after mansion, some completely hidden behind high, dense hedges, while others offered a tantalising glimpse of turrets and towers.

Dimitri indicated left and the car swung through a huge pair of electronic gates and Erin peered out of the window. ‘What is this place?’ she asked.

‘It’s a private estate and each house is called a dacha. In England some people own second homes in the country and this is similar. Many Russians have them. It’s where I did most of my growing up.’

‘I thought you grew up in Moscow.’

‘No. My father was in the city a lot, but my mother preferred it here. They call it Moscow’s secret city. Many people think it doesn’t exist—that it’s just a myth—but as you can see for yourself, it isn’t. Just that not everyone knows where to find it, and that’s deliberate. It’s where the rich live—and play. Where there’s no pressure to be modest and no shame in showing off your wealth. They say that security here is tighter than in the Kremlin and very few outsiders are permitted entry. You should count yourself privileged, Erin.’

Privileged? She felt closer to panic, especially when Leo clutched at her hand.

‘Look, Mummy—look!’

Erin turned her head to see him pointing towards a stunning art deco house, which Erin recognised immediately. It was the house from the photograph. Up close, the tall house was even larger and more imposing than it had appeared in the glossy photo, and the unusual curved wooden door made it look like something out of a fairy tale.

There were so many questions Erin wanted to ask but there wasn’t time because the front door was being opened by a homely-looking woman whose creased face broke into a wide smile when she saw Dimitri. She looked as if she wanted to fling her arms around him but didn’t quite dare. And Erin was surprised by one of the most unguarded smiles she’d ever seen on the oligarch’s face as he bent his head to kiss the woman’s cheeks before speaking to her in rapid Russian.

‘This is Svetlana,’ he said, ‘who used to look after me when I was a little boy, even younger than you are now, Leo. Svetlana—this is Erin, Leo’s mother.’

‘You are very...welcome,’ said Svetlana in halting English, her eyes softening as she looked down at Leo. ‘Come inside, little one. You must be tired.’

Automatically, Leo shook his head. ‘I’m not tired,’ he said.

‘Well, that is good!’ Svetlana smiled. ‘I wonder, do you like gingerbread, Leo? We have much famous gingerbread here in Russia and we like to eat it with hot, sweet tea. It was Dimitri’s favourite when he was a little boy. Would you like to try some?’

Expecting continued resistance, Erin glanced down at her son—but he was wearing the same expression he’d had the first time she’d taken him to meet Father Christmas. Was the child who was notoriously picky when it came to food really taking Svetlana’s outstretched hand and wandering off with her towards the back of the house as if they’d known each other all their lives? It seemed he was.

For a while she stood listening to the sound of their retreating footsteps until at last they became silent and she was left alone with Dimitri. His hands were on her shoulders as he helped her out of her coat, his fingers brushing softly across her back and making her spine tingle.

‘Come with me,’ he said and she followed him into a reception room which overlooked the sweeping gardens at the back of the house. It was a breathtakingly impressive room and she looked around it with an undeniable sense of wonder. Who would ever have guessed that such an exquisite place lay in the middle of some random forest?

Fabergé eggs stood on gilded furniture, and a bonsai tree which stood in pride of place on a lacquered Chinese table made her think of his apartment in London. She walked over and stared at the perfectly formed miniature leaves and wondered how on earth he could get experts to come and tend it—all these miles from Moscow. How many apartments and houses and bonsai trees did he actually own? Did they all merge into one, she wondered—so that sometimes he forgot which city he was in? Were the women who passed through his life just as interchangeable as his houses?

She looked up to meet the blue ice of his gaze. ‘Is this your real home?’

He gave an oblique smile. ‘I visit here maybe three or four times a year—more if the opportunity arises.’

‘You maintain a house this size just for the occasional visit?’ She looked at him incredulously. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Why not? Russians like owning bricks and mortar because they represent security. It is also Svetlana’s home,’ he added. ‘And I owe her a debt of care. Her son tends the gardens here and his wife helps maintain the house.’ His gaze drifted over her and lingered on her face. ‘But my property empire isn’t what’s uppermost on my mind at the moment.’

His voice had deepened. It seemed to whisper over her skin like velvet, but she kept her voice careless. He’s not going to play games with you, she thought fiercely. He’s just not. ‘Oh?’

His gaze was very steady. ‘You may have noticed that I have been a little cool towards you.’

She tried not to react. ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed.’

‘And you’re probably wondering why.’

‘Don’t worry, Dimitri—I’m not losing any sleep over it.’

He studied the bonsai tree for a moment, before glancing up again. ‘I thought it would be better for both of us—and for Leo—if we attempted to keep our relationship platonic. I thought that what happened in Jazratan would be better kept as a one-off. I thought the fewer complications, the better. But maybe I was wrong.’

‘Dimitri Makarov wrong?’ she questioned sarcastically. ‘Gosh. Can I have that in writing?’

‘Because despite everything that has happened,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘and despite the note of caution in my head, there is one factor which outweighs all the others...and that is that I still want you, zvezda moya. In fact, I cannot believe how badly I want you.’ He smiled. ‘And I know enough about women to realise that the feeling is mutual.’

Erin met his eyes, trying to ignore the instinctive rush of heat to her body and to concentrate instead on his arrogant words. Note of caution? Had he really said that? Of course he had. Because not only was arrogance one of his faults—he also had a complete inability to recognise it! She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Oh, I might want you,’ she agreed. ‘I’m not enough of a hypocrite to deny that.’

‘So?’ he questioned, unabashed, the hint of that smile still playing at the edges of his mouth.

Expectation was coming off him in waves which were almost tangible and Erin felt a flare of anger. She recognised that there was an element of negotiation in what he was saying, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Was she expected to grab at whatever scraps he threw her? To settle for something which sounded like a reluctant afterthought?

‘So, nothing! Do you really expect me to accommodate your see-sawing desires just like that?’ she demanded, snapping her fingers in the air. ‘To behave like an obedient puppet, just waiting for you to pull my strings one minute and then smilingly accept it when you put me back in the box the next?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why the hell do you have to analyse everything to death?’ he gritted.

‘Because that’s what women do,’ she retorted. ‘And we file it under self-respect. I may have made mistakes in the past and perhaps I should have acknowledged them sooner, but I’m doing my best to make amends for that now. I’m sorry I excluded you from Leo’s life without giving you the opportunity to prove you’ve changed. That’s one of the reasons I’ve come to Russia with you, even though it’s...difficult. But there’s no way I’m going to be treated like a convenient plaything while I’m here, no matter how many of my buttons you press. So if you’d please show me my room, I’d like to go and unpack.’

His face was a picture, Erin thought. A mixture of disbelief and fury as he muttered something decidedly angry in Russian before turning away and stomping towards the grand staircase. But his discomfiture was small consolation for the aching in her body and the even greater aching in her heart.