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His tone leaves no room for refusal, and Nikolai literally scuttles away like a frightened rabbit, and I’m left staring into Ivan’s mortal enemy. He looks a bit like an older version of Ivan, but his presence is commanding, almost chilling, like that of a general, and I feel a wave of nervousness wash over me as he takes my hand formally.
“It is good that my son has picked a girl that can waltz.”
My eyebrows rise with surprise.
“What exactly is your relationship with my son?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Everyone keeps asking me this question. “We’re... we’re just having a… casual relationship,” I say, but the words feel strange on my tongue. The more I say them the more I hate saying them.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “If it were casual, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
He doesn’t know about the nature of our relationship, our arrangement, and I’m not the person to enlighten him.
I clear my throat. “I’m his real estate agent,” I explain lamely. “We... sort of became friends.”
He nods, but I can’t tell if he believes me. He lapses into silence and I can’t think of a single thing to say either. When the song ends, he releases me with a curt nod.
“Goodnight, Miss Fitzpatrick.” Then he’s gone, almost as if he was a figment of my imagination.
Chapter Forty-Five
IVAN
To my shock, I look out of the window and see the astonishing sight of my father dancing with Lara. For one wild irrational second, I want to run to them and push his poisoned hands away, but a strange wave of emotion washes over me and I stare at them. The truth is I love my father. When I was growing up he was the person I most dearly loved and admired in the whole world. And even after we fell out and he tried to crush me and made my family choose between him and me, I still couldn’t bring myself to hate him.
It is a laughable idea to even think for a moment he will try to poison Lara or ask her to choose between him and me. I watch them curiously. My father is a good dancer and he leads her well. As for Lara, she carries herself brilliantly. A warm glow fills my chest. The dance ends. My father walks away and I see her head back towards the house.
My phone rings and I take the call. It’s only more bad news. It is almost certain now that the Americans will move next and it is too late to get my money out. Moving that much money around could raise a lot of red flags. I still have some in Russia. That ismy only safety net for now. I call an old friend from Cambridge and ask him for a favor. He agrees readily.
“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning,” he promises.
“Thanks, James. I won’t forget.”
“No, worries. You can count on me.”
“Good night.”
It’s late, I’m exhausted, and I have a headache as I make my way through the silent house up to the west wing. I open the door and there she is. Sitting by the lounge, her legs tucked beneath her, wearing a white silk nightdress that clings to her body in ways that send heat spiraling through me. Her eyes flick toward me as I enter, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.
In spite of everything that has happened, my desire for her burns brightly.
“Nikolai told me about your feud with your father and how bad he feels about not being close to you.”
She really ruined my mood with those words, but my voice is pleasant. “Did he now?”
“Yes, he did. He’s a nice guy, Ivan. And his family. Families should stay together,” she says.
I’d come in here wanting her, missing her, thinking I’d find sanctuary in her body, and instead, I find she has taken Nikolai’s word for gospel truth. After the horrendous day I’ve had, I lose it. I feel fury burn like fire through my body.
“Well, if he’s such a nice guy, go fuck him then,” I snarl.
Her face turns white as a sheet.
“What a horrible thing to say,” she gasps and leaps up. Moving toward the bed with purposeful steps, she grabs the blanket at the bottom of the bed. She’s going to sleep on the day bed. That... that just pisses me off.
“You’re really going to ignore me?” I ask, my voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in despite myself. My frustration fromthe entire night, the entire day, is bleeding into this moment, and I can’t stop it.
Still, no answer. She carries the blanket past me, and something snaps in me. I step forward and snatch it from her hands, my movements sharp.