Page 15

LARA
Ifeel like I’ve just survived an explosion, and yet somehow, despite the chaos, in the dead silence, I am still alive and breathing. I haven't moved from the spot he left me in, and where his skin has touched mine still tingles. In a daze, I turn to look at the painting and I see it from a completely different light. Leda’s pale naked body half hidden by the swan’s great wings. Her fair thighs open… Oh God!
I jump when I hear Sasha’s voice calling me. In the silence, the sound is loud and jarring causing me to spring into action. I really don't want to think of any of this because truly I need time to process what has happened to me in silence, but she has taken the opportunity of this away from me.
I scramble up and walk quickly towards a mirror. I look strange. I can’t have Sasha seeing me looking so flustered. Taking a couple of deep breaths I calm myself down. Then I head for the stairs. Sasha is standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at me with a strange expression.
"Hello," I say as coolly as I can.
"I saw him leaving. It's a huge house so I expected him to have stayed longer. What happened?" she asks, her voice filled with surprise and curiosity.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and start moving towards the kitchen. "Yeah. He uh... left."
She follows me closely. "Yes, I can see he is gone, but that was awfully fast. Did everything go well?" She knows perfectly well that everything didn’t go well.
"I didn't think so."
Next to the champagne bucket, I see our phones still in the plastic bag. As Sasha retries her phone, I grab the champagne bottle and pull it out. It drips water on the expensive marble surface.
"Why? Didn't he have any questions?"
I pop the cork. “Not really.”
"Is all lost?" she asks impatiently. I can’t blame her one bit for being irritated or annoyed with me after all the effort we put into this viewing, but I really don't know what to tell her. In order to save my ass, of course, I'm tempted to mention the real reason why everything went south, but I really don't want to. Not until my dad hears from me first.
I fill two flutes and hold one out to her.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a scowl. “It’s clear we’re not celebrating.”
“We’re drowning our sorrows,” I say grimly.
She can no longer hide her disappointment and her voice is full of blame and accusation. “What did you do wrong?”
I take a big mouthful of freezing-cold bubbles. “Everything, Sasha. I got it all wrong. From the start to the finish. I’m really sorry.”
She puts her glass of untouched champagne down. “Why are you behaving so strangely? Can’t you just tell me how the whole viewing went? I just want to know where we went wrong.”
Where we went wrong?That’s one hell of a story. I drain my glass. Wow, champagne hits hard on an empty stomach. I already feel a little drunk. And already Mr. Ivanovich seems like a dream that never happened.
“There’s nothing to tell. I don’t think he wants to buy this house. He had a busy day ahead of him and he had to leave suddenly.” I reach for a canape and pop it into my mouth. It is supposed to be lobster moose on a savory saffron biscuit, but it tastes like mud on my tongue. I reach for another and Sasha pulls the whole platter out of my reach. I look up at her.
"You don’t think? So he hasn’t actually said no to the property?” she asks hopefully.
I sigh. “No, he hasn’t said no outright, but I’m pretty sure he’s not interested. Sorry, Sasha. I know you worked at this.”
“Stop fucking apologizing,” she explodes. “And just fucking tell me what happened from start to finish. Because if he hasn’t said no, then we’re still in the game. Men like him have an impossible schedule. Look how early he requested this showing. It shows he probably has an impossible day ahead of him and this is the one moment he could find to come and see the house. Of course, you shouldn't have let him go without agreeing on a fixed date for another appointment, but that’s okay. You’re inexperienced at this. We Russians are quite stoic as a people. We don’t show much emotion on our faces. It is possible he’s still interested in the property, but since, as you say, he didn’t show much interest, he probably just wants it as an investment and not a residence."
There are a lot of probablys in her line of thinking, but I say nothing. What can I say? What I have told her is sort of the truth. Knowing her and what she had hoped would happen between her and the billionaire the truth will be even more unpalatable.
"Let’s follow up with his secretary tomorrow. She did say that I could contact her when and as needed."
"Alright," I say, and for some reason this makes me feel childishly relieved even though I am very well aware that it is pointless for Sasha to call his secretary. He has told me in very explicit terms exactly what he wants—me in exchange for purchasing the house. I shouldn't have considered his offer for even one second, but for a few revealing seconds I did entertain it, and as we head back to the office it is clear to me why.
Because for those few seconds, every fiber in me wanted to say yes. I have never wanted to say yes more in my life. If I had met him in a club I would have gone home with him without a second thought. If he had not made sex a condition, it would have been an easy yes. A very easy yes.
Sighing, I stare out at the skyline and the beautiful city and can't help but feel even sadder despite the fact that the sun is out. Everyone will be expecting good news and now they will get the news that Sasha wasn’t allowed to do the viewing and I had fucked up, but because I am the boss’s daughter, they will be forced to hide their feelings and only be able to gossip amongst themselves about my incompetency. I hate the idea, but there is nothing I can do. Just as we arrive, I turn to Sasha.
"Please tell the others what's happened. I have to go to my father."