Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8 - Мишель Смарт, Tara Pammi - Страница 14
ОглавлениеAS ANYA CLIMBED out of the taxi her eyes scanned the gathered crowd outside the church but there was no sign of him.
He wasn’t here.
She had flown in from Paris that morning and had booked a return flight for this afternoon to safeguard her from a night in bed with Roman.
As if that would stop them!
Everyone had made the effort—Sev and Naomi, who lived in New York, had returned from their honeymoon for today. Nikolai, who had come to London only for their wedding, had delayed his departure to celebrate today. Even Rachel, who until last night hadn’t known if she’d be able to get out of a family arrangement, had made it.
Yet Roman hadn’t.
Anya was angry.
Furious.
As she walked towards the group she made a beeline for Rachel. She was a stunning redhead who had recently retired as a dancer and had just started a blog about ballet. Anya had been alerted to it when she had checked her emails and had read it on the plane. To cover her disappointment, she smiled rather more brightly than she would usually.
‘I read your piece,’ Anya said. ‘It was amazing. Rachel, I will be in touch and we’ll have to see what we can do about tickets for opening night...’
Rachel had been fishing for them at Sev and Naomi’s wedding and Anya had blanked her.
She was trying not to be like that now.
Always she kept herself contained. Anya didn’t make friends easily, but she was starting to care deeply about these people who had come into her life since the night Daniil and Libby had come backstage.
She was terrified of opening up and letting anyone in, just to be hurt in the end.
Now, since Roman had returned it had become increasingly hard to keep herself in check and to cast feelings and emotions aside.
She could see Rachel’s surprise at the turnaround in her. Anya was surprised too but that was what Roman did, he changed her.
One night with him and she was turning back into her more emotional self.
They made their way over to the group.
‘Hi, Anya.’ Libby smiled, but Anya could see she that was tense.
And then she found out why as a car pulled up and Roman climbed out.
‘He turned up this morning,’ Libby said, though more to Rachel, her close friend, than to Anya. ‘It didn’t exactly go well.’
‘Oh...’ Rachel said. ‘Isn’t he the missing one?’
Libby gave a brief shake of her head, as if to say, It’s too complicated for now.
In contrast, Anya thought now was a very good time and made good on her promise that she would no longer cover for Roman and pretend she didn’t know where he had been all these years. Her voice was one of pure malice. ‘He was never missing. He’s been in Paris.’
‘You knew where he was?’ Libby accused. ‘And you didn’t tell Daniil...’
But Anya just shrugged. ‘You’ve heard of Russian mail-order brides?’ She sneered. ‘Roman was a mail-order groom to some bored, rich, middle-aged woman in Paris...’
‘He’s married?’ Daniil’s voice was like the crack of a whip and he didn’t wait for Anya’s response. Instead along with Nikolai and Sev they walked towards Roman and for the first time in years they were together again.
Anya watched as they greeted each other with handshakes—the four beautiful men that she had grown up alongside were finally reunited.
For as long as she could remember, one of them had had her heart.
Anya was holding onto it with all she had today.
She always dressed neutrally, but never more so than this morning. Her dress was sand-coloured, her shoes flat and she wore a thin cardigan to cover her arms. What was considered beautiful on stage at times drew whispers and stares so she covered up when out.
Anya would not let Roman think for a moment she had made an extra effort for him.
Her week in Paris so far had been hell.
There had been no formal practice as some of the dancers had gone home to Russia before preparations began seriously.
Anya had tortured herself first by going to the square where she had seen Roman with Celeste. She had then gone to the café, sat at the same table and ordered a meal, telling herself she would get back on the diet wagon tomorrow.
Instead she had wandered the streets, imagining him here.
With his wife.
It would hurt forever.
And she had sat at another café and eaten crepes, trying to fathom that Roman lived here.
And now back in London she stood silently watching the four men converse. She was torn between longing and anger as she looked at him and he pointedly didn’t meet her gaze.
In fact, he then turned his back to her.
‘Let’s go in,’ Libby said, and finally they moved into the church. Anya found herself sitting with Rachel and in the pew behind Roman.
He had offered not a single word of greeting.
Carry on ignoring me, Anya thought as her eyes almost stripped the skin from his neck, and after a moment he turned and his eyes and the set of his lips told her how cross he was.
‘Thanks so much for your discretion back there.’ He spoke to her in terse Russian. ‘I hadn’t yet told Daniil I was married.’
Anya just gave a scoffing laugh. ‘Rachel asked where you’d been, so I told her. Why would I lie for you, Roman?’
‘I’ll deal with you later.’
‘You wish.’ Anya smirked.
And then she saw it, the slight roll of his tongue in his cheek as he resisted a smile.
For that was them.
They knew their dance.
Except, Anya vowed, this time it would not end in bed.
Been there, done that, Anya’s eyes warned him, and I am so not going there again.
Yes, if people thought her cold, this man was the reason.
She had loved him.
With all her heart she had loved him and had thought foolishly that he had loved her back.
The service was beautiful.
But hell for both of them.
Anya could hardly stand to look at the baby.
Nadia.
Thanks to a life spent on a diet, and it had been even more strict these past two years, a baby was something she could never have. Over and over she told herself she didn’t want to be a mother, anyway. But watching Daniil, at the end of the service, hold his daughter brought a lump to her throat for the other thing, apart from Roman, that she could not have.
Yes, it was hard for both of them.
Watching his twin, clearly in love, perhaps made a mockery of what he and Celeste had had and Daniil had indicated he was furious that Roman had not told him about his wife.
Roman, who had never explained himself to anyone, did not know how to discuss it.
They spilled out of the church and into various cars and Anya quickly accepted an offer to ride with Naomi and Sev. She had only seen Naomi at her wedding, but she was very friendly and had also read Rachel’s blog. ‘I’d love to see you perform.’
As Sev and Naomi chatted about whether they could make it to Paris next month Anya’s mind was on two things.
Roman, of course, and also a large bag of peanut butter and chocolate cups that Naomi had pulled out of her bag along with a silver-wrapped gift for Nadia.
‘I don’t think we need to bring food,’ Sev said.
‘Everyone loves these.’ Naomi laughed. She had brought nearly a suitcase of them with her from New York and had been merrily sharing them out.
They were possibly Anya’s favourite treat.
The caterer had been busy and back at the apartment champagne flowed and there were pink cupcakes and sumptuous nibbles that waiters brought out endlessly.
Anya stuck to water. She really had overdone things this week but then she watched as Naomi poured the chocolate cups she had brought from New York into a bowl and tried to resist temptation.
Libby’s family were there and some other people that Anya did not know but she was only really aware of Roman.
The apartment was huge, yet she was painfully aware of his presence standing by Libby when he handed over his gift for little Nadia.
‘Thank you, Roman,’ Libby said. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful. I’m sure she will always treasure it.’
Roman nodded and when he went to get a drink, Anya could not resist asking Libby for a look at it.
She held the cross in her hand. It really was exquisite and she wondered how the hell he could afford it, then she turned and read the engraving on the back.
Strength.
Anya really needed to have strength today.
It was agony being in the same room as him, yet it was bliss to know he was there.
She was mired in confusion, for she ached to be by his side and yet she could not bring herself to go over.
A tray of food was offered and again she shook her head but her eyes kept going to the little chocolate cups that Naomi had brought.
She would have just one, she decided, and made her way over.
Anya went to open it but decided she would enjoy it later and she put it into her bag.
Maybe she could take one for the journey home, she thought, and slipped another into her bag.
Perhaps she would take a few for during the intervals so that she could remember being here with Roman today.
And then her hand stopped as she scooped another lot up and she knew that she had been seen putting the little silver chocolate cups into her bag.
Anya turned and saw Naomi frowning and then she met Roman’s eyes and shame swept through her, just as it had when her mother had caught her. She had been caught again stealing food, and she did not know how to shrug it off, or to explain and, red in the face, very close to tears, she quickly walked out of the room.
‘Why is Anya sneaking food?’ Naomi had whispered to Sev, but Roman had heard her.
Because she had grown up having to, Roman thought, but didn’t say anything.
He walked across the room and out into the hall he caught up with her.
‘Leave me,’ Anya said. She was desperately embarrassed and trying not to cry.
This very moment she remembered the slap of her mother’s hand on her cheek when she had been found in the cupboard cramming chocolate into her mouth. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’
‘No, no...’ Roman said, and he opened a door to a room and pulled her inside and then straight into his arms. He held her against him. ‘You don’t have to be.’
‘But they saw me,’ Anya said. It felt horrific. She was so controlled in everything and yet she had been seen. ‘They all saw me stealing food.’
‘So?’ He lifted her chin so that she had to look at him and Roman smiled when he so rarely did. ‘You like chocolate. I’ll take a bottle or two of champagne on the way out and they can talk about how rude we both are...’
His words didn’t work because Anya was starting to cry.
‘It’s okay,’ he said.
‘But it’s not. I just wanted some for later. I know it’s stupid but I feel so awkward eating around others...’
‘It’s not stupid,’ Roman said. ‘You were sent to a cupboard to eat.’
‘She always...’ Anya stopped what she was about to say, not wanting to be disloyal to her mother, but Roman spoke for her.
‘She always caught you,’ Roman said. ‘And then you would be given a slap and scolded.’
‘How do you know?’
‘There was no television at the orphanage,’ Roman reminded her, and she gave a thin smile. ‘You know I watched all that went on with you.’
And here was the one person who might properly understand because he had been there, he had seen first-hand the endless shaming whenever she had tried to get food.
‘“You’ll get fat,” she would say.’ Anya’s voice shook as she recalled her mother’s words. ‘“If you want to dance then you have—”’
‘Anya,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t have many good things to say about your mother but, in this, Katya was doing her best to keep bringing you to work with her.’ Roman told her what he had tried to on the night of their row, when she had pointed out that he knew nothing about families. ‘She was trying to keep her job and keep you close to her in the evenings and not leave you at home alone.’
Anya frowned.
‘The supervisor would say to her they had enough hungry mouths without feeding the staff’s children. They were jealous because, as the cook, your mum could have a meal. If the supervisor had caught you eating, at best you would not have been able to come to the orphanage, at worst she would have lost her job.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I watched and I heard what went on. When I was on set-up duty for the dining room, before you came back from school, your mother would be making the dinner and she would be warned over and over that meals were not to be provided for you.’
Anya closed her eyes and thought back to those times, how her mother would send her to the cupboard to eat soup. The battle with food and her mother had started as a means to survive yet, as Anya’s talent had started to shine, for Katya it had become an obsession.
For Anya now too.
Still he held her.
‘Do you know,’ Roman said. ‘When I was growing up I always thought you were rich because you had a parent, but you were as poor as us, maybe more so—at least we were fed regularly.’
She felt better for his understanding and she thought of her mother and could see things through more forgiving eyes.
It was nice to confide in him, to be held in his arms as she recalled those times.
‘I was always so hungry.’
‘I know you were. Which is why, the night I took you out for dinner, I thought that a meal before your audition would be such a good idea. We had no idea about the world then.’
‘They were still good times.’ Anya sighed, because she had so many happy memories of back then—as children, laughing and showing off how fit she was to Daniil and Roman as they did their boxing drills. She recalled Christmas dinners when the workers’ families could come in for the day. Then she would get to eat with the orphans and she would sit with the four boys rather than standing in the kitchen to watch.
‘They were the best,’ Roman told her.
His response was unexpected.
He held her tight into him so that she rested her head on his chest and she could hear the thump-thump of his heart.
‘I didn’t think that you would have any good memories of back then,’ Anya said.
‘I have many. For the first twelve years I had Daniil, as well as Sev and Nikolai, and I always looked forward to seeing you. Do you remember the time you brought supper to my room?’
‘I wanted to kiss you,’ Anya said.
‘I wanted to touch your breasts,’ Roman said, and she smiled.
‘Did you look forward to seeing me today?’ Anya asked.
‘No.’
And his answer did not upset her.
She knew why.
‘Because?’ she breathed.
‘Because of this.’
This need, this desire, this craving that only the other could satisfy.
Anya knew that if she looked up he would kiss her.
And so she looked up.
He kissed first her damp lashes, so that her eyes closed and the bliss of his kiss brought more tears. His mouth traced her cheeks and then went to her lips, where his kiss was soft, but never tentative.
She loathed his tender kisses, for they were not how things used to be and he had not learnt that from her, yet she ached for them too.
Their kiss deepened and his hands went to the thin cardigan she wore to cover her arms and slipped it off so that it dropped to the floor and his palms were now the warmth on her arms. ‘Stop covering yourself,’ he said.
He knew her every move.
Now he kissed her harder, a kiss that was familiar, and she felt herself sink into the intoxicating space that they found together. Their tongues told of the urgent quest for more and he pulled her tighter into him, and she stood on tiptoe just to feel more of him, fought not to climb onto him as she peeled her mouth from his and her direct words made him smile.
‘We are not having sex in the guest room at your niece’s christening.’
‘Then the uncouth relations really would have arrived,’ Roman said, and he smiled down at her because he had been determined to be a suave and suitable guest in Daniil’s home; he just hadn’t factored in having Anya there. ‘If we were caught that really would give them something to talk about.’
Anya peered out from his chest and frowned. This was no guest room, Anya realised. They had been so focused on each other that they hadn’t even taken in their surroundings.
‘Roman!’
He looked then too and realised that they were standing in a huge room. The floors were polished wood, and it was a vast exercise area, a gymnasium that had been set up for boxing. There were mirrors, weights, punching bags. Growing up, it would have been the stuff of his and Daniil’s dreams.
‘No boxing ring, though,’ Roman said.
For now he and Daniil fought with their demons and they fought them alone.
‘One day, perhaps,’ Anya said.
It was she now who soothed him. One day, perhaps he and Daniil might be able to speak properly. Libby couldn’t seem to understand why Daniil and Roman were not falling over each other in joy at being finally reunited.
Anya did.
There had been so much suffering and so much self-reliance to get to this point in their lives that it was hard to admit you might want to depend on someone else, or feel worthy of their love.
‘He has done so well,’ Roman said. ‘It is strange to see him grown up and now with a family...’
‘Are you jealous of him?’ Anya asked, but for her own reasons. There was something she needed to know. ‘I mean, he has a wife, a new baby—’
‘You don’t understand twins,’ Roman interrupted. ‘I’ve never been jealous of my brother. I’m happy that he has everything I ever wanted.’
And if that was everything Roman had wanted, there was something she could never give him.
A baby.
His answer pained her and to avoid his eyes she walked over to a shelf set in a wall. It reminded her of her dressing table before a performance—it was like a little altar that displayed what she guessed were Daniil’s most precious things. There was a photo of Daniil and Libby on their wedding day and one of Nadia too, as well as an ultrasound image. Anya knew that she was looking at something very private, and Roman, who now stood beside her, knew it too. There was a pink porcelain ornament and a few other things. Within the collection, though, there were two objects that she recognised.
‘I remember these being taken,’ Anya said as she took down two photos. ‘Sergio brought in his camera that day.’
One image was of Daniil and Roman in boxing shorts, holding their hands up in a fighting pose.
Roman was scowling in the photo and today it made Anya smile. ‘You just wanted to get the picture over and done with.’
‘I did,’ Roman said. ‘But I am glad now that he took it.’
‘Why did you give them to Daniil?’
‘I didn’t give them to him. I put them into his case. I thought it might help him if he had some photos from home.’
‘But that left you with none,’ Anya said, and she looked at the other photo. It was of the four boys, now men, and today they were finally together again.
‘We’re going back to Nikolai’s yacht after the party.’ Roman told her what had been arranged. ‘We’re going to catch up on all that has gone on.’
‘You’re not looking forward to it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll tell you afterwards how it goes.’
‘I shan’t be here, Roman. I’m flying back to Paris this afternoon.’
‘Anya, you know that we need to talk,’ he said.
This week he had come to the realisation that they did. He could not be apart from her again. They were back in each other’s lives.
It was Anya who resisted that now.
‘No, we will fight.’
‘So.’ Roman shrugged. ‘We know where our fights lead.’
Anya smiled but it changed midway and she shook her head.
‘I don’t want to know about your wife, Roman. I’m simply not ready to hear about it and I don’t know if I ever shall be. I can’t bear to hear about your life so I’m going back tonight and I meant what I said, I don’t want to see you in Paris.’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘In part,’ Anya admitted. ‘But it’s also the truth.’
But Roman was having none of it. ‘I have to catch up with the others but later tonight I’ll have my assistant charter a plane...’
‘See!’ Anya said. ‘Who are you? A man who gives platinum crosses with diamonds, a man who charters planes?’
‘I will tell you.’
‘But I can’t stand to hear it,’ she said.
‘Wait for me?’ he asked again, but she shook her head.
‘I waited so long for you, Roman. No more.’
And then she forced herself to ask the question that she dreaded hearing the answer to.
She knew Roman. He would not stay five minutes with a person he did not like.
He had spent years with Celeste.
‘Did you have feelings for her?’
Roman looked right into her eyes and he knew that to lie now would end them forever, but he was careful with his response. ‘Not the same feelings that I have for you.’
‘Had,’ Anya corrected. ‘Or you would not have stayed away.’
He said nothing.
‘Did you love her?’ she demanded, for he had never told her that he loved her.
He gave her the absolute truth. ‘There was a kind of love that grew.’
No!
She would never be ready to hear about it.
And she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth about babies either.
Their dreams had already been killed.
And so Anya walked off.
