Billionaire Without A Past
CAROL MARINELLI
When one night isn’t enough…Nikolai Eristov lives by one rule: never look back. The inscrutable tycoon has buried his past so deep that, to the outside world, the only thing driving him is his personal chauffeur.Until Nikolai meets elegant ballet dancer Rachel Cary at a wedding… Behind her practised smile and innate sensuality, he glimpses a woman running from shadows as dark as his own.One electric night together leads Nicolai to promise Rachel two weeks of exquisite pleasure. Except for the first time, this indomitable billionaire lied. Because two weeks isn’t nearly enough!
The past had finally caught up with him and he wanted it back where it belonged.
And then another stinging thought occurred—Rachel would find out too. Today and tonight had been amazing, and soon it would be spoiled when she discovered the truth.
Nikolai had never had to deal with this—a lover knowing.
And what a lover…
It would be bad enough telling his friends and seeing the distaste in their eyes, answering difficult questions. But Rachel…?
Yuri would say he was running from things, hiding things, and that wasn’t Nikolai’s way at all. Yet at four in the morning he went into the bedroom and picked his clothes up from the floor and dressed.
‘Rachel…’ His voice was not as measured as he preferred, and he had to clear his throat, but she just lay there—pretending, Nikolai was sure, to be asleep.
He didn’t say her name again—he just collected his belongings and was gone.
As the door closed behind him he was almost tempted to knock and say… What? That he’d locked himself out? Or…?
No, better that she hated him than for the truth to come out, he thought as he stepped out onto the dark London streets.
Nikolai had thought he’d long ago dealt with his past.
It would seem he’d been wrong.
Irresistible Russian Tycoons (#ulink_4ec9ae1b-500f-545b-871b-0ed6d93866bf)
Sexy, scandalous and impossible to resist!
Daniil, Roman, Sev and Nikolai have come a long way from the Russian orphanage they grew up in. These days the four sexy tycoons dominate the world’s stage—and they are just as famed for their prowess between the sheets!
Untamed and untouched by emotion, can these ruthless men find women to redeem them?
You won’t want to miss these sizzling Russians in this sensational quartet from
USA TODAY bestselling author Carol Marinelli
available only from Mills & Boon Modern Romance!
Find out where it all started in
The Price of His Redemption December 2015 Available now!
The Cost of the Forbidden January 2016 Available now!
And don’t miss the dramatic conclusion
Return of the Untamed BillionaireComing in June 2016
Billionaire
Without a Past
Carol Marinelli
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL MARINELLI is a Taurus, with Taurus rising, yet still thinks she is a secret Gemini. Originally from England, she now lives in Australia and is the single mother of three. Apart from her children, writing romance and the friendships forged along the way are her passion. She chooses to believe in a happy-ever-after for all, and strives for that in her writing.
Contents
Cover (#ua7415c5e-eb83-5167-9353-044bfc8883b3)
Introduction (#u3126861a-902d-586f-9469-02d1043ebc7b)
Irresistible Russian Tycoons (#u82a84479-8255-5fdb-89b6-ea0e3d2e0cfa)
Title Page (#ucdea217f-c072-5d86-b5ab-3961bc82967b)
About the Author (#uf30c25a1-2cd4-5770-af06-e422bb3da98b)
PROLOGUE (#u2de85c39-245c-5962-bdd5-d8fd9488f078)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc350f300-56f1-5104-b11b-b47c13f202c9)
CHAPTER TWO (#u70fd3751-4e10-531f-ba3f-4247c2c437ca)
CHAPTER THREE (#ueb6af938-cc17-5392-b8f1-a8348bb52a5c)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_8fd73777-0101-5aa9-9a75-d276cb4d6e21)
NIKOLAI ERISTOV HAD dealt with his difficult past.
Or rather he had been quite sure that he had.
Yet this morning, after his preferred strong tea had been poured by his butler, Nikolai did not reach for the cup as he usually would—he could not be sure that his hand would not shake, and he had long ago decided to never let another person glimpse his weakness.
It was how he had come to survive.
With breakfast served, his butler went to leave the sumptuous master suite on the bridge deck of the superyacht but Nikolai called him back.
‘I need you to take care of something for me this morning.’
‘Certainly.’
‘I need a new a suit.’
‘Savile Row and Jermyn Street are—’
‘No,’ Nikolai interrupted. The butler had misunderstood his request. Nikolai did not want one of London’s finest tailors to be brought to the yacht, neither did he want to go and visit them. ‘I want you to go to a department store and purchase a suit for me. You have my measurements.’
‘I do, but—’
Nikolai gave a brief, impatient shake of his head. He did not need to explain his thinking to his butler so instead he stated his requirements. ‘I want you to purchase a charcoal suit and I also need a shirt and tie that would be suitable to wear to a church wedding. Oh, and I shall need shoes too.’
‘You want me to buy you clothes off the peg?’ his butler carefully checked, and well he might—Nikolai was tall and broad shouldered and dressed exquisitely. His outfits came from top designers—all of whom wanted him wearing their name, just for the chance that his dark, brooding good looks would be photographed in one of their creations. Why on earth would he send his butler to a department store when his dressing room was lined with the best of the best?
‘Yes,’ Nikolai said, ‘and I need you to go soon. The wedding is at two.’
Nikolai then told him the price range that he had in mind for his outfit and he saw his usually impassive butler blink—after all, the champagne that had been in the empty bottle he had removed from the bedside that morning had cost only a little less than had been allocated for today. That said, Nikolai spent thousands on champagne. Still, for him, it was a modest budget indeed.
‘I wasn’t aware that it was that time again and so soon!’ The butler made a small joke and, given it was late spring, Nikolai conceded a small smile.
For a couple of months each year his life of luxury living aboard a superyacht ceased and Nikolai worked on the huge icebreakers in the Atlantic. He had recently returned. There he wore thick layers and an ushanka. The rest of the time he wore his wealth well. He was rich, successful in many endeavours and, Nikolai had been sure, the ghosts of yesteryear had long since been laid to rest. No one could have guessed his dirt-poor origins or the shame and fear that had used to wake him at night in a drench of cold sweat.
‘Am I to purchase a wedding gift?’ The butler asked.
‘No.’
Only when his somewhat bemused butler had left to carry out his instructions did Nikolai pick up the cup from the saucer. He had been right to wait for his butler to leave for, yes, his hand shook slightly as he pondered how best to face this difficult day in what had once been a difficult life.
It was a good life now.
He had fought hard for it to be just that.
Nikolai had battled against the odds and had refused to become another statistic. Instead of allowing his abuser to break him, he had fought not just to survive but to thrive. Instead of turning to drink or drugs to dim the pain of the past, he had faced it.
Dealt with it.
Of course he had, Nikolai told himself.
Now he owned a fleet of superyachts and his presence was regularly requested at A-list events—a party on his yacht was the place to be.
He had it all, thanks to Yuri, who had been both his mentor and his saviour.
How Nikolai would kill for one more conversation with that man. How badly he needed his advice today.
The only person who knew the truth about his past had been Yuri.
‘Beris druzhno ne budet gruzno,’ he had told Nikolai. It was an old Russian saying—if you share the burden it won’t feel so heavy.
Nikolai had only told the truth so that Yuri would not alert the authorities who would have sent him back to destky dom, the orphanage from where he had run. But, as it had turned out, Yuri had been right—with the burden shared he had felt lighter.
But Yuri wasn’t here and so Nikolai had had to turn to himself to work out how best to deal with today.
Nikolai wanted to see his friend married but he did not want to be seen. No doubt Sev would, if he saw him, ask why he had run away without a word to his friend and that was something Nikolai did not want to discuss.
His past must not taint his present, Nikolai had decided. He would slip into the church unnoticed and leave the same way. There was nothing he needed to do, no secrets he needed to reveal.
A small knot of disquiet tightened in his chest as Nikolai could almost hear Yuri refute his handling of the matter.
Yuri would say that by hiding, by slipping into the back of the church, he was taking the easy way out, and that was not like Nikolai.
He stood and walked across the suite and looked out to Canary Wharf, where he had docked last night. The glass was treated to ensure no one could see in—a necessary measure, for the press would love to capture images of the rich and famous and of the decadent goings-on on board his yacht. He stared out, unseen, at families and couples who were pointing and taking pictures of the attraction that his home was.
Nikolai was used to it.
His yacht was named Svoboda, the Russian word for freedom and it drew crowds whenever it docked, especially as it housed its own car and the sight of the ramp opening and Nikolai driving out was impressive. More often than not his home was docked in more glittering surroundings. The south of France was a favourite, as was the Arabian Gulf.
It had been there, cruising down the Gulf of Aqaba, that Nikolai had first found out about Sev and Naomi. Lying in bed, unable to sleep, he had considered waking the blonde beauty beside him in his usual way but instead he had got up and headed up to the sundeck and, under the stars, had opened up his laptop.
As he often did, Nikolai had looked for news of his friends from detsky dom days and he had read the latest news about Sev.
The New York City–based Internet security expert, Sevastyan Derzhavin, was spotted in London sporting a black eye and a nasty cut. With him was his personal assistant, Naomi Johnson, wearing a huge black diamond ring on her engagement finger.
The picture that had accompanied the small piece was of Sev and, presumably, Naomi, walking hand in hand along the street, and, despite the mess of his face, Sev had looked happy.
He deserved to be.
Growing up, Sev had been the closest thing to family that Nikolai had ever known.
In the orphanage, there had been four dark-haired, pale-skinned, dark-eyed boys who had challenged the carers. They had been born with no hope but all had had dreams.
At first they had dreamt that one day they would be chosen by a family.
They never had been, though, and finally they had been cruelly told why. Their pale skin, which didn’t turn pink, and their dark hair had meant they were black Russians and far harder to place than blond, blue-eyed children.
Still they’d dreamt.
The twins, Daniil and Roman, would become famous boxers, the boys were all sure. Sev, with his clever mind, would go far, and as for Nikolai, though he had no idea who his parents were, he was certain his father had been a sailor.
Certain.
Nikolai’s love of the ocean had been born into him long, long before he had even glimpsed the sea.
But in detsky dom dreams had died easily.
At twelve years of age Daniil had been chosen and placed with an English family. His identical twin, Roman, had then run wilder than ever before and had been moved to the secure wing.
At fourteen, as Sev had started to shine, he had been moved to a different class and hope had been high that he would receive a scholarship to a prestigious school. Nikolai and Sev had still got the bus to school together and they’d shared a dormitory at night, but without his friend Nikolai’s grades had slipped and he had been singled out by a teacher he’d loathed.
‘Tell me, Nikolai, why your grades have suddenly gone down?’
Nikolai had shrugged. He hadn’t liked this teacher, who had always picked on him and given him detention, which had meant he would miss the bus and have to walk.
‘Was Sevastyan helping you?’ the teacher asked.
‘Nyet.’ He shook his head. ‘Can I go now? Or I will miss the bus.’
It was cold and snowing and his coat was not a good one.
‘We need to discuss this,’ the teacher said. ‘It would not look good on your friend’s scholarship application if I had to write that Sevastyan had helped you to cheat.’
‘He didn’t.’
The teacher got out a maths exam paper Nikolai had recently taken and told him to sit and then asked him to write the answers to the questions.
‘You could do this maths two months ago, so why not now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘This could be very bad for your friend...’
Nikolai stared at the numbers and pleaded for the answer to come to him. Of course Sev had helped him, it hadn’t felt like cheating, just a friend helping a friend.
And it could now cause trouble.
‘Did Sevastyan do your work for you?’ the teacher asked, and raised his hand. Nikolai thought he was about to be smacked upside the head but the man’s hand came down on Nikolai’s shoulder.
‘Nyet,’ Nikolai said, and tried to shrug the hand off, but it remained.
‘Come on, Nikolai,’ the teacher said, and, removing his hand, he took the chair beside Nikolai. ‘How can I help you if you don’t tell me the truth?’
‘He didn’t do my work.’
‘Then you should be able to do the maths.’
Yet he couldn’t.
He heard the horn blare from the bus and he knew it was leaving.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ the teacher said, and Nikolai frowned as he would rather walk in the snow. ‘About Sevastyan helping you...’
‘We weren’t cheating,’ Nikolai pleaded, to save his friend from losing his scholarship. ‘Sev just showed me how.’
‘It’s okay,’ the teacher said gently, and Nikolai did not understand the strange tone to the man’s voice yet the hammering of his heart warned him to fear it. ‘We can keep it between us. Nobody has to get into trouble.’
Nikolai stared at the sums and then he felt a hand high on his thigh.
‘Do they?’ the teacher checked, and Nikolai didn’t answer.
* * *
His butler duly returned and managed not to raise an eyebrow at the table Nikolai had upended in rage at the memory of what had taken place long ago. Instead, the butler laid out the clothes he had purchased and since neatly pressed.
Nikolai headed to the shower and decided against shaving. His thick dark hair fell into perfect shape.
He pulled on the crisp white shirt and gunmetal-grey tie his butler had chosen. The dark suit sat on his broad shoulders far better than he had expected it to.
He felt as if he were dressing for a funeral such was his grief for his lost friend, yet he wanted to see Sev happy so badly.
His eyes would remain behind dark glasses, Nikolai decided as he put them on. He would take them off at the last moment as he stepped into the church.
He would arrive and leave unnoticed, and so, instead of summoning his driver or making a spectacle of unloading the car, he disembarked on foot and walked along South Quay then hailed a black cab.
The driver chatted about how warm the weather was for May but Nikolai did not respond. As they pulled up at the church and the driver turned for his fare, Nikolai shook his head.
‘Two minutes,’ he said with a heavy Russian accent.
Those two minutes turned into ten but the driver did not argue given the amount of cash that had just changed hands.
Nikolai sat watching the guests milling on the steps of the church and braced himself to head inside. The press were there and police were keeping the crowd on the other side of the road.
Sev, he guessed, must already be inside because, despite scanning the crowd, he could not make out his old friend. Sev had been an introvert and more into books and computers than people, yet on his wedding day there were many people there to celebrate.
Including Nikolai.
He watched as a tall, slender woman with a blaze of long red hair climbed out of a luxury vehicle. She was laughing and chatting as she helped a heavily pregnant woman get out. Nikolai recognised the pregnant woman as Libby, Daniil’s wife, from a news article he had read during the times he had looked up his friends.
So Daniil must be here also.
The two women walked up the steps and went into the church and Nikolai could hear the bells ringing out as others started to head inside.
‘Two more minutes,’ he said again to the driver.
It was proving every bit as hard as he had guessed it would be to face his past.
Sev had enquired as to the reason for Nikolai’s tears on the night he had run away. Nikolai had not been able to answer the question then and he was nowhere near ready to answer it now. He did not want to see the discomfort in anybody’s eyes as he revealed the sordid past.
He climbed out of the cab and walked to the church, and just as the bride’s car came into view he slipped into the church.
Hopefully unseen.
Yuri, were he alive, might say he was hiding and that he should face things in his usual bold way, but on this occasion Nikolai did not want to ponder sage advice—he would take his own.
There was no need to discuss his past.
No need to re-invite shame.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f9633025-5254-5fae-9655-9cf9b9c9a2b6)
‘RACHEL, I JUST don’t understand.’
Libby was clearly perplexed by Rachel’s shocking news that, after a long tour of Australasia, she had left the dance company. The two women had, until recently, not only danced with the same company but had also been flatmates. Last year, just before she had met her now husband, Daniil, Libby herself had retired.
In truth, Libby had been pushed into the decision and Rachel could well remember her friend’s struggle to let go of the career she loved so. They had discussed it over and over.
Rachel had made up her mind by herself.
They were friends but very different. Libby wore her heart on her sleeve, whereas Rachel kept hers not just buried in a deep vault but one where the key had been thrown away and wet concrete poured over it.
She let no one in.
Oh, she chatted, but it was mainly about the other person, and she flirted and dated but it was always on her terms.
Always.
They were in Rachel’s vast suite at a luxury hotel, getting ready to attend a very prominent London wedding. Rachel had never actually met the happy couple, she was there more to support Libby as Daniil was the best man and Libby was one week away from her due date.
Because Daniil owned the hotel, Rachel had been given an amazing suite. Anxious about sharing her news while determined to be upbeat for her friend today, Rachel had taken a long fragrant bath, with heated curlers in. It had done nothing to quell the nerves that lived permanently in her chest.
Rachel was always anxious, even if she hid it well, but now it felt as if everything was coming to a head.
The bath hadn’t worked its magic and she had already been running late when Libby had arrived. Preparations had further stalled when Rachel had, oh, so casually dropped the news that she would not be returning to the dance company,
‘But what will you do?’ Libby asked.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Rachel admitted as she started to pull the jumbo heated rollers out of her long red hair. ‘I intend to work it out over a lot of long lazy evenings and morning lie-ins!’
‘I don’t get how you can have left without having made any plans. I thought you were happy...’
‘I was happy. I still am,’ Rachel said, and then she promptly changed the subject by going into her overnight bag and pulling out a burnt-orange velvet dress. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s very...’ Libby’s voice trailed off as Rachel squeezed herself into her very tight dress, but as she slithered it down past her thighs she frowned as she looked over and saw the pained expression on Libby’s face.
‘You cannot go into labour today,’ Rachel warned.
‘I know I can’t,’ Libby said. ‘I keep telling myself that. I just don’t think the baby is listening.’
‘Do you think you might have it?’
‘I think I might,’ Libby admitted.
‘Oh, my!’ Rachel grinned her toothy grin. ‘How exciting.’
‘How not!’ Libby sighed. ‘This wedding is so important for Daniil, Sev is like family to him. Sev is his family.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Rachel said with all the authority of someone who watched an awful lot of medical dramas ‘First ones take ages and ages, and anyway your waters haven’t popped. Imagine if they do in the church!’
‘You’re such a comfort, Rachel,’ Libby said, but she did smile. ‘Come on, do your make-up, we have to go.’
‘I’ll do it in the taxi...’ Rachel said, and then remembered how rich Libby was and that this wasn’t the old days. Daniil’s driver would take them to the church! She pulled on very high stilettos, in the same burnt-orange velvet as her dress, and they took the elevator down and then out to where the driver waited. Once seated in the plush car Rachel opened up her large bag and, very used to doing her make-up in less luxurious surroundings, she set to work on her face.
‘You’re ever so pale,’ Libby commented, and then remembered. ‘We didn’t have lunch!’
They had been too busy talking!
‘I didn’t have breakfast either,’ Rachel said, and took a chocolate éclair sweet out from the bottom of her bag and carried on doing her make-up. Off came the freckles, thanks to an amazing foundation she had newly discovered. Her reddish-blonde eyelashes were soon a long silky black that brought out the green of her eyes. She added some rouge and then a good dash of coral lipstick and then peered in the hand mirror at her slightly protruding teeth that had a gap in the middle. ‘I’m thinking of getting braces.’
‘Why?’
‘I just am. Come on, you need to bring me up to speed, I’ve lost track of all these Russians.’ Rachel snapped her fingers for information as she teased out the curls in her hair. ‘The groom is Sev, Daniil’s friend from the orphanage?’
‘Yes,’ Libby said. ‘Though it might be kinder not to refer to him as that.’
‘I can be tactful!’
‘Sometimes you can be.’ Libby smiled.
‘Tell me about the bride.’
‘Her name’s Naomi,’ Libby said. ‘She was his PA in New York but she’s actually from London.’
‘What’s she like?’
‘I only met her briefly, she was still his PA then. We were just on our honeymoon. Oh, Anya will be at the wedding too.’
‘Anya?’
‘Tatania.’ Libby gave Anya’s stage name and watched as Rachel let out a little squeal of delight. Anya too had been at the orphanage, though as the cook’s daughter. Now, she was prima ballerina in a Russian dance company and back in London performing Firebird. Rachel had seen her the last time the company was here and had been hoping to see her again before the production closed next week but it was proving impossible.
‘Do you think she can get me tickets?’ Rachel asked. ‘It’s completely sold out.’
‘She probably can but I doubt that she would—Anya’s not very friendly,’ Libby warned.
‘Oh, well, it’s worth a try. What about the other one?’ Rachel frowned as she tried to work it out. She knew, from what Libby had told her, that there had been four orphans but she struggled to keep up with their names. ‘Nikolai?’
‘No!’ Libby quickly said as she winced at the potential faux pas. ‘Nikolai’s the dead one. He killed himself when he was fourteen. He was being abused by his teacher.’
‘Oh.’
Rachel answered with her usual shallow response yet she saw her own rapid blink in the small hand mirror when she heard what had happened to Nikolai.
Yes, there were things she didn’t discuss, especially not on a wedding day with her anxious, pregnant friend.
Especially ever.
‘You’re talking about Roman,’ Libby said, ‘Daniil’s twin. He’s—’
Rachel turned as Libby broke off in mid-sentence and went silent.
‘Are you having another one?’ Rachel asked as they pulled up outside the church.
‘No.’ Libby shook her head. ‘Maybe,’ she admitted, as Rachel helped her out of the car. ‘God, Rachel, don’t let me make a scene. I can’t spoil the wedding.’
‘Oh, you shan’t. I’ll just throw a coat over you or something.’ Then she smiled. ‘You’ll be fine.’
The bells were ringing out and the press were taking photos of the arriving guests as they walked into the gorgeous old church. There were white roses everywhere and the organ was playing. Rachel followed Libby to a pew near the front and there was a buzz of anticipation all around.
Rachel loved weddings and this was going to be a good one, she was sure.
Daniil was dead sexy and the groom was too, Rachel thought, which hopefully meant half the congregation would be.
She turned and watched as a reed-thin, beautiful woman slipped into the pew behind them and then tapped Libby on the shoulder.
‘Libby.’
‘It’s lovely to see you, Anya.’ Libby smiled. ‘This is my friend Rachel...’
‘Anya!’ Rachel said, and her face was on fire, she knew, as she had an absolute fangirl moment. Rachel had been a huge fan of Tatania for years and had followed her career closely.
‘I think I must have seen you perform at least ten times...’ Rachel did a little count in her head. ‘Actually, twelve!’
‘Rachel’s not exaggerating,’ Libby added. ‘Any time you’re in London and she wasn’t performing herself she was watching you.’
‘I saw you in Paris when you played Lilac Fairy. I’m hoping to get to see Firebird again,’ Rachel said, but Anya shook her head.
‘We close next week.’
‘Yes, I know. I haven’t been able to get tickets,’ Rachel said, and let out a dramatic sigh, hoping, hoping that Anya would come to a fellow dancer’s rescue.
‘It sold out ages ago.’
Dismissed by Anya, Rachel turned and stared ahead. She could feel Libby trying not to laugh at Anya’s cool acceptance of Rachel’s desire to see her and her absolute shutdown with no offer of tickets!
‘Told you,’ Libby said.
‘You did.’ Rachel sighed.
As they waited for the bride to arrive Libby tried to chat about Rachel’s work, or lack of it.
‘You know that I’ve got a temporary teacher to fill in for me,’ Libby said, ‘but I’m always on the lookout—’
‘Libby,’ Rachel broke in. ‘I don’t want to teach.’
‘Then what will you do?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Her mother had asked her the same question last night with the addition of, ‘I warned you to have something to fall back on.’
Rachel had said nothing at the time but her jaw had gritted. Her mother hadn’t, Rachel was sure, meant another career. Evie Cary fell back onto men. Over and over. All had had money. Evie made sure that the men she dated would keep her in the style she’d like to become accustomed to.
There had been a parade of boyfriends and lovers. Some had lasted a weekend, some a few months. One for a couple of years.
He had walked out on her mother two weeks after Rachel had left home.
Surprise, surprise.
Rachel jerked her mind away from dark memories and tried to focus on the future.
She didn’t need someone or something to fall back on, she wanted to fall into her new life.
Money wasn’t too much of a problem in the short term.
She had worked too hard to spend much and could take some time to figure things out. She looked over at Libby and wondered whether to tell her her idea.
‘I was thinking of starting a blog.’
‘A blog?’ Libby said. ‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
The pews continued to fill, but to the right and not so much to the left, and it suddenly dawned on Rachel that, given the groom was an orphan...
Libby laughed again as Rachel’s shoulders sagged.
‘I thought the place would be teeming with sexy Russians,’ Rachel sighed.
‘Oh, well, there’s always André,’ Libby said.
‘No.’ Rachel shook her head as Libby spoke of Rachel’s long-term colleague and occasionally intimate friend. ‘Didn’t I tell you? He’s met someone and it’s serious.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep.’ Rachel nodded. ‘They’re getting married in a fortnight.’
‘How didn’t I hear this?’
‘It only just happened.’
‘Well, that’s one wedding you’ll be avoiding,’ Libby said.
Rachel didn’t comment and neither did she tell Libby that it was a wedding she couldn’t avoid. Instead, she looked through the order of service and deliberately tried not to think about André.
‘So who’s he marrying?’ Libby asked, and Rachel longed for Libby to have a sudden contraction, for the bride to arrive, for anything other than give the answer.
It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.
There was more.
Of course there was.
The Cary family had more skeletons in their closets than a graveyard.
‘Rachel?’ Libby pushed for her to answer the question but thankfully there was a stir in the congregation and Daniil said something to Sev in Russian in a shocked voice. At first Rachel assumed the bride had arrived so she turned around.
Oh, my.
Someone as good looking as this man should perhaps have known that he wouldn’t be able to slink into the church unseen.
Tall with dark wavy hair that was worn a touch too long, he caused a stir simply by walking in. Heads had turned.
‘Who,’ Rachael asked Libby, in a voice that had suddenly gone husky, ‘is that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Libby said. ‘It might be...’ Her voice trailed off and Rachel watched as Libby frowned and looked over to the altar, where her husband and the groom stood. Rachel’s gaze followed.
Daniil looked stunned and Sev, the groom, who had been staring ahead, had turned around at Daniil’s instruction.
The shock on their faces was evident and Rachel watched as the two men broke with protocol and strode down the aisle towards this delicious stranger. Everyone was standing now, trying to get a better look. Rachel was on tiptoe, trying to make things out, but she couldn’t.
‘What’s happening?’ Rachel asked.
The only person not paying full attention was Libby.
‘I’m having another one,’ she moaned, and clutched at the pew.
‘They’re miles apart,’ Rachel said in an authoritative tone to keep Libby, who was rather neurotic, calm. Libby, like all dancers, was very body aware, which meant, of course, that every freckle was cancer, every abdominal cramp in advanced pregnancy was labour...
Yikes!
Rachel was starting to stress herself, not that Libby would ever know it.
‘The bride’s just arrived.’ Rachel kept up a running commentary as Libby breathed through the pain. Now that Naomi was here, Rachel assumed that normal services would resume but, no, the groom had brought his bride-to-be over and was now introducing her to this mystery guest.
It was all rather fascinating, Rachel thought, and a brilliant start to the wedding, especially as the bride and groom were sharing a passionate kiss, but at the wrong end of the church.
‘Sev’s getting off with the bride,’ Rachel said. ‘And I think...’
And then she was silent because Daniil had brought the delicious stranger to sit with them.
He was so tall and broad that as he moved into the pew, Libby, who wanted to keep her place near the edge in case she needed a speedy exit, had to shrink back to let him past.
Rachel did the same and got the deep woody trace of his scent as he took his place beside her.
Oh, my!
He must be Roman, Rachel thought.
But, no, that wasn’t right. This guy was tall and dark but he didn’t look like Daniil, and weren’t he and Roman supposed to be identical twins?
She really couldn’t keep up.
‘Libby,’ Daniil said, as the vicar called for order and for the groom to release the bride from his embrace so they could get the service under way. ‘This is Nikolai, he’ll sit with you.’
Now things really were getting confusing, Rachel thought.
‘Don’t let him leave,’ Daniil added, and Rachel suppressed a smile.
Oh, she happily wouldn’t let him out of her sight.
Everyone stood as Sev and Naomi walked down the aisle hand in hand and Rachel frowned as she tried to work it out.
She turned and looked up at the man next to her.
He had black wavy hair and dark velvet brown eyes that did not turn at the awareness of her curiosity.
And Libby was right again—Rachel could be rather tactless at times.
‘Sorry.’ Rachel frowned as she peered at him and then gave a small shake of her head. ‘But now I’m really confused. Aren’t you the dead one?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_2cd2aa3c-acc1-5fab-835a-1e50908a3f7f)
NIKOLAI DIDN’T ANSWER her question.
Yet that Sev had thought him dead had shaken him to the core.
In a brief exchange with his long-ago friend he had found out that Sev and Daniil had thought that he had killed himself and that Sev had thought it had been his fault.
Nikolai had just glimpsed the burden he had unwittingly placed on his friend and was in no mood to respond to Miss Curiosity’s question.
‘I’m Rachel,’ she offered.
‘I think we’re supposed to be paying attention to the service.’ Nikolai’s response was terse.
His voice made her want to say pardon, just for the chance to hear him repeat himself. It was deep and low and his accent so rich it made her toes curl. Rachel turned to Libby and they both frowned and pulled confused faces at each other.
There were so many questions but no time to answer them as they were now standing for the first hymn.
‘You can share mine,’ Rachel said generously when she saw that he didn’t have an order of service.
She was like a wasp hovering, Nikolai thought.
He had wanted to just see the service and leave.
And he would still do so, Nikolai decided.
He could not face the questions.
Or, worse, answering them.
‘Are you okay?’ he heard her say, and then realised that the question had not been aimed at him.
‘I’d better be!’ Libby responded with grim determination. ‘Stick close to me, Rachel.’
And then he felt, or rather heard, the woman beside him—Rachel—laugh.
It was an odd and unexpected reaction to an escalating situation and for some reason he almost smiled.
The fragrance she was wearing was possibly the scent of lying in a flower-drenched meadow in summer, not that he ever had, but Nikolai then decided that she was more like a bee.
Except her too-close proximity didn’t have the threat of a sting.
He looked at the pale hands that held the paper in front of him and it was the most pointless sharing ever because neither of them was singing.
‘Is she having pains?’ Nikolai asked.
‘Yes,’ Rachel said as the hymn ended and they took their seats. ‘But they’re ages apart.’
Her dress rode up as she took a seat and he was treated to a glimpse of freckly white thighs, and then he watched her fidget as she pulled her dress down.
And then there was another fidget as she went into her bag and took out some toffees and offered Libby one, but she shook her head.
He watched as the gold-foil-wrapped sweet was offered to him.
‘We’re not at the movies,’ he pointed out. Yet, again, even in uncomfortable circumstances he had the temptation to smile. She was slightly inappropriate, yet had made herself a companion when so many had simply stared.
Nikolai had been to few weddings. His lifestyle ensured he did not get particularly close to others but seeing his friend clearly in love, he was glad he had come.
Even if he had been outed.
They stood for another hymn.
‘Oh, I know this one,’ Rachel said, and proceeded to sing tunelessly and loudly beside him.
She was a terrible midwife because Libby had another contraction during the second verse and, Nikolai observed, Rachel didn’t appear to even notice.
He had timed them.
Rachel was right, though—they were ages apart and Libby had a while to go.
Still...
‘Your friend is in pain,’ Nikolai said.
‘I know!’ Rachel hissed, and as they took their seats while the couple went off to the vestry to sign the register she elaborated. ‘Why do you think I was singing so loudly? I was trying to keep the spotlight from her.’
Rachel did not need to sing, even badly, for the spotlight to be on her, Nikolai thought. Even if he had been seated at the back of the church, his eyes would have been drawn to her. He had noticed her getting out of the car, he had seen those long pale legs as they’d climbed the church steps and that gorgeous tumble of red hair.
A harp was being played, very badly, and Rachel got back to the order of service and found that it was Naomi’s cousin who was putting the congregation through hell.
‘Ouch,’ she said as a note was missed, and her fidgeting resumed.
‘Do you have any more sweets?’ he asked.
‘Always.’ She smiled and went into her bag and handed him not one but two.
He unwrapped the sweet and popped it into his mouth. It was brittle, with a soft centre, and was absolutely delicious.
‘Do you know why I like them?’ Rachel whispered. ‘They get stuck to your teeth and you can find a bit later.’
He turned then and for the first time met her eyes fully.
His were a very dark brown, almost black, Rachel thought, and his gaze was penetrating, so much so that as it shifted down to her mouth she could feel the blush of her skin.
‘I’m thinking of getting braces,’ she said, perhaps because they were on the subject of teeth, or perhaps just for something to say.
‘Don’t.’
‘The invisible ones,’ she amended.
‘Why,’ Nikolai asked, ‘would you ruin such an amazing mouth?’
Oh, she was a terrible midwife because had the bride and groom not appeared then, Rachel would have been rather tempted to take his hand and simply run.
He was stunning.
She ached to see him smile, but he did not return hers and she ached for a witty retort but she had none.
The bells rang loudly and the newlyweds walked back down the aisle and Nikolai turned his attention to them.
Daniil gave his wife a concerned look as he walked past.
‘I’m fine,’ Libby mouthed.
‘She’s lying,’ Rachel muttered.
Soon they were all out on the steps and the wedding party was being arranged for photos. Nikolai knew that now was the time to leave quietly.
Yes, Sev had questions and deserved answers, but today wasn’t the time for that and so, as the photographer called for everyone to gather on the steps, Nikolai walked away, hoping to disappear into the crowd.
‘Hey!’
He could hear the clip of footsteps running behind him and knew who he would see when he turned around.
The bee was buzzing.
‘You can’t just leave!’ Rachel said. She wasn’t even thinking about Sev and the rest of them—more, how dare he flirt like that and simply walk off?
But Nikolai had other ideas.
‘I can do exactly that,’ he responded.
‘You have to stay,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ve been given instructions and I take my duties as friend of the wife of the best man very seriously.’
Nikolai cared nothing about her duties and started to move away.
‘It’s not fair on Sev to leave,’ Rachel said, and his shoulders stiffened as he halted.
‘Sev’s wedding is hardly the best time to catch up on things.’
‘But he’ll enjoy it more if you’re here.’ Rachel watched as he slowly turned again. Nikolai glanced over at the wedding party and, sure enough, instead of concentrating on the photo being taken, Sev was looking in their direction, clearly wondering if Nikolai was about to disappear.
Again.
‘Very well,’ Nikolai conceded. ‘I’ll stay for the reception but then I’m going back.’
‘To where?’
‘To my life.’
Rachel was curious to know more. His accent was heavy and she guessed that London wasn’t his base. As they started to head back to the group she asked for more information. ‘And where is your life?’ she asked. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Nowhere for long. I don’t like to get too involved with any one place or person.’
He turned his head slightly and his eyes told her to step back from the conversation, to drop it.
She did so.
‘There’s Libby,’ Rachel said, and gave her friend a wave.
Libby was clearly looking for them. ‘There you are.’ She smiled. ‘Sev wants you in a photo, Nikolai.’
Nikolai gave a nod and walked off towards the church, and Rachel and Libby watched as the three men stood on the steps of the church. A photo was taken of them with Naomi and then the photographer called for Libby to join in.
Rachel watched Libby make her weary climb up the steps to smile widely for the camera and then Libby and Naomi stepped aside and there was a photo taken of just the three men. Rachel glanced to her side and saw that Anya was standing nearby.
‘It’s a shame the other one isn’t here,’ Rachel said, and watched as Anya frowned. ‘Roman,’ Rachel clarified.
‘If he was here there would be trouble.’ Anya shrugged. ‘He would make sure of that.’
‘Still, it would be nice if Daniil could find his twin.’
‘Some people don’t want to be found!’ Anya dismissed the notion. ‘Daniil should accept that fact.’
‘It’s his identical twin.’
‘So?’ Anya said. ‘Sometimes you just have to get over things.’
She really was incredibly cold, Rachel thought as Anya walked off. If she hadn’t seen her dance, she would have thought Anya incapable of emotion.
Except she had seen her dance!
And Rachel wanted to see it again.
Nikolai rode in the car with Rachel and Libby, who told him where the reception was being held.
‘Your husband bought the hotel last year?’ Nikolai said.
‘He did.’ Libby smiled. ‘So you’ve been keeping an eye on him?’
‘A bit,’ Nikolai admitted. He looked over to where Rachel sat and saw that she was freshening her lipstick, and when she spoke he liked it that she had more important things on her mind than finding out about him.
‘Do you think I should simply ask her?’ Rachel asked Libby. ‘Maybe I was too subtle in the church.’
‘Rachel,’ Libby said, ‘I don’t think anyone could ever accuse you of being subtle.’ Libby turned and explained the conversation to Nikolai. ‘Rachel is desperate to see Firebird but it’s completely sold out. She was hoping that Anya—’
‘Anya?’ Nikolai broke in, clearly recognising the name.
‘I believe that she was the cook’s daughter at the orphanage.’ Libby nodded. ‘Well, her stage name is Tatania and she now plays the lead in Firebird. She was standing behind you in the church.’
‘She will be there at the reception?’ Nikolai asked.
‘She will be.’ Libby nodded. ‘Though only for a little while, she has a performance tonight.’
‘And I’m going to ask for tickets for next week,’ Rachel said as the car pulled up at the hotel. ‘Just watch me.’
He was!
Given the venue and that Daniil owned it, of course things went smoothly. Nikolai’s name had even been added to the table plan. He was seated beside Anya and another guest but Rachel shamelessly got out her pen and moved things around so that he now sat next to her.
‘We can’t have you not knowing anyone.’
Canapés and champagne were served as the guests waited to be invited into the ballroom and he took a drink as did Rachel, though again she chatted to Libby rather than to him.
He liked that. He appreciated how neither woman pounced on him for information, though possibly because they had something more pressing on their minds.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Rachel asked.
‘I’m fine.’ Libby smiled as she took a glass of sparkling water from a waiter. ‘I haven’t had one since the church.’
‘It’s probably just a little warm-up for next week,’ Rachel reassured her.
‘Have you rung your doctor?’ Nikolai asked, and Rachel blinked at his rather assertive intrusion into what was clearly girls’ talk.
‘I don’t think that’s necessary.’ Libby smiled politely and then, as she went to turn back to Rachel, she wavered and spoke to Nikolai. ‘Do you?’
‘It can’t hurt to check.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Rachel said, and shot Nikolai a look that told him not to worry her friend, but Nikolai just gave her a small shrug in response.
‘Anyway, less talk of babies.’ Libby tried to drag her mind from imminent birthing. ‘Rachel, you still haven’t told me. Who’s André marrying?’
It was only then, for the very first time, that Nikolai saw the rather forward Rachel appear just a touch uncomfortable—her neck went red and she took a sip of her drink before answering.
‘I don’t want to talk about André.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Libby pushed. ‘I miss all the gossip. Who is she?’
‘Just someone he met when we were on tour.’
‘You’re not going to go to the wedding, are you?’ Libby said. ‘How bloody awkward would that be, given that you two were—’
‘Libby,’ Rachel snapped. ‘Can you just drop it?’
He could see Rachel’s discomfort—more than that, he could feel it. He watched as she almost leapt on a passing waiter, holding up her glass and asking for more champagne.
Her glass was replaced with a full one and as Rachel took a grateful sip she met Nikolai’s slightly questioning gaze but thankfully they were then summoned to go through.
The ballroom looked incredible.
Dressed in shades of white, from the lavish white roses to the crisp tablecloths, it was picture perfect. The air was fragrant and as they took their seats thankfully Libby seemed to have forgotten what they had been discussing.
‘Anya!’ Nikolai stood as she approached and kissed her on the cheek. ‘It is good to see you. I hear you are doing well.’
‘I am,’ Anya said, and, out of the corner of his eye, Nikolai watched as Libby and Rachel shared a small smile at Anya’s arrogance.
It was a lovely meal, at least, for those who ate it.
Libby was struggling. She could barely manage to drink her water and declined an entrée, whereas Anya shook off the dressing and nibbled on a small piece of Cornish crab.
Rachel and Nikolai dived in.
‘It’s such heaven not to have to watch my weight,’ Rachel groaned as her main course of beef Wellington was served.
Anya’s meal wasn’t so gleefully received and she promptly pushed her plate away.
‘Is there a problem?’ the waiter checked.
‘No problem,’ Anya responded.
Nikolai chatted in Russian to Anya and made no apology for it. It was nice to speak with her because Anya was so self-absorbed that she really asked nothing of him.
‘I will have to leave as soon as the speeches are finished,’ Anya explained, and then told him about her rise to the top, her career, and then Nikolai asked her a question.
‘How long have you been in touch with Daniil?’
‘He and Libby came and saw me perform a few months ago. Since then.’
‘And what about Sev?’
‘I don’t really know him.’
‘What about Roman?’
Anya shrugged. ‘I don’t spend my free time looking up people from the orphanage where my mother used to work.’ She glanced at Rachel, who was sulking at being ignored as they spoke in Russian. ‘You have a fan.’
‘I know,’ Nikolai said. The odd thing was he was fast becoming a fan of Rachel’s.
‘How have you been?’ she asked.
‘I’m well.’
‘That’s good.’
She was as Russian as he. No emotion on display and her indifference was soothing, though Nikolai knew that at some point, if he kept in touch, questions would come.
For now, though, there was no probing. At least, not from his left. To his right, Rachel, clearly less than impressed that his back was to her and he was speaking in Russian, was trying to squeeze into the conversation.
‘Anya...’ She leant forward and spoke around Nikolai. ‘I have to say I really want to—’
‘I’m just going to the loo,’ Libby interrupted.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Rachel offered.
‘Rachel,’ Libby warned. ‘You don’t need to hold my hand. I’m fine.’
Now Anya and Rachel shared a look.
‘You’ve seen me perform, then?’ Anya deigned to address Rachel.
‘Many times.’ Rachel nodded. ‘I’d been to see Firebird a couple of times before you took the lead and I was very annoyed when Libby was there and I missed it.’
‘Vera was annoyed too,’ Anya smirked.
‘Vera?’
‘Atasha—the previous lead.’
‘I came for your second performance,’ Rachel said. ‘I wrote a piece on it.’
‘For who?’ Anya asked.
‘For me.’
Anya wasn’t interested in that. Instead, she turned to Nikolai and spoke now in English. ‘You should come and see me.’
Oh, so it wasn’t sold out for him!
‘I’m not interested in ballet,’ came Nikolai’s response.
They were all so rude to each other! Rachel thought.
‘You should have said yes,’ Rachel hissed at him. ‘You could have given the ticket to me!’
‘Tickets,’ Nikolai said.
‘Tease.’
Libby returned to her seat and it was she now who fidgeted.
‘Do you think you should do what Nikolai—?’ Rachel started, but Libby shot her a look.
‘The speeches are starting,’ Libby said.
The father of the bride went first and that was very boring, Rachel thought. Then it was Sev, who made a toast to absent family and friends and raised a glass in the direction of Nikolai. Rachel was more focused on Libby breathing rather deeply beside her. But when Daniil stood to deliver the best man’s speech Rachel found that she was hanging on every word as he offered some insight into the time at the orphanage where Nikolai had been raised. She wanted to know more about the man who sat beside her. He fascinated Rachel. It was not just that he was so good looking, it was more the mystery that surrounded him and that he had offered no update to anyone on the intervening years.
‘There were four of us who grew up in the orphanage,’ Daniil explained. ‘Sev looked out for all of us. He would try to halt an argument or tell us when to pull back. He would also read to us,’ Daniil said. ‘Sometimes it was a book on cooking that he had found, or gardening. One time a carer had left a sexy book...’ The guests all started to laugh as Daniil explained how the boys had kept getting him to read it again and again.
Rachel looked at Nikolai but his expression gave nothing away, even when Daniil spoke about how they had all hoped for a family.
Had Nikolai hoped? Rachel wondered.
But suddenly Rachel had no choice but to lose focus on Nikolai.
‘Rachel...’ Libby whispered, and she dragged her mind to the reason she was here—her very pregnant friend.
‘Are you okay?’ Rachel checked, and then saw that Libby’s eyes held urgent appeal.
‘No!’ Libby said. ‘Follow me out in a couple of moments but, please, Rachel don’t make it obvious.’
‘Okay.’
She glanced at Anya, who appeared not to care—she was picking a tiny flake of chocolate off the top of a mousse and trying not to eat it!
Rachel watched as Libby attempted a subtle exit but then, just as she went to stand, a low, deep voice asked her a question. ‘Did you bring gloves with you?’
Rachel found herself smiling as she turned to him.
‘Er, no.’
‘But you have toffees,’ he pointed out.
‘I do,’ Rachel said. ‘She can bite down on them.’
‘You’d better go.’
Rachel stood, and just before heading out she bent over and whispered into his ear. ‘If you hear screams—it’s me.’ And made her discreet exit.
Only it wasn’t discreet to Nikolai.
A blaze of orange, her hair had just brushed against his cheek in their whispered conversation and it was as if he could still feel it as her scent lingered.
He watched her hitch her dress down her thighs as she walked out on very high heels.
It would be foolish to get involved, even for one night, Nikolai told himself. Women came and went with ease in his life, but Rachel was connected to the people from his past and that complication he did not need.
Daniil, having seen his wife leave, wrapped up the speeches and soon the dancing would start.
‘I have to go,’ Anya said to Nikolai. ‘You can walk me out.’
He did, and gladly so, because now that the speeches were over he knew that soon Sev would be looking to speak with him and he was considering making his own getaway.
They came out to the sight of Rachel holding Libby up and Daniil on the phone. ‘Daniil’s calling the hospital,’ Rachel explained, uninvited. ‘And his driver’s on his way.’
‘I’m just calling for mine,’ Anya said, and took out her own phone.
They were so reserved, Rachel thought. Most people she knew would be panicking and as flustered as she was.
Daniil looked a bit grey but that was as far as it went. Nikolai and Anya were chatting in Russian, as if a heavily pregnant woman wasn’t moaning close by them.
‘So,’ Anya asked, ‘do you think back to those days?’
‘I do all I can not to think of those days,’ Nikolai said. ‘Why did Sev think I had died?’
‘A body was dragged from the river a couple of weeks after you disappeared. Your bag had been found further upstream, with that wooden ship you built and the sexy book...’
Nikolai swallowed.
‘Sev was devastated,’ Anya admitted. ‘He blamed himself.’
‘Why would he blame himself?’
‘That is what tends to happen when your closest friend throws themselves into a cold river rather than tell you there is something wrong.’
It was a difficult conversation but it did not look like it to an outsider. Rachel couldn’t believe how easily Anya and Nikolai appeared to be chatting as Libby started to groan again. ‘You have the oddest friends,’ Rachel said as she rubbed Libby’s back.
‘I know they are.’ Libby came out of the contraction and they both shared a smile as Anya waved over to them as her car arrived. ‘I hope it goes well, Libby,’ Anya said, as her chauffeur got out and opened the car door.
Libby nodded but once Anya was in the car her face moved into a snarl, which was most unlike Libby, especially what she said next. ‘Tough bitch.’
‘Oh, God!’ Rachel exclaimed. ‘You’re going to have it now, aren’t you? On one of the shows I watch they start swearing...’ Her voice trailed off and she saw that Daniil was waving to his driver, who was stuck at traffic lights, to hurry, and that Nikolai was walking back inside.
‘Nikolai,’ Rachel called out to him. ‘Get here.’
He came over.
‘How could you leave?’ she asked.
‘I am sure Libby would prefer—’
‘It’s not about what she might prefer,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘I might need some help.’
‘Do you want to push?’ he calmly asked Libby.
‘No.’
‘Then she has plenty of time till the baby arrives,’ Nikolai said.
He just stood there calmly, as if slightly bored, until Daniil’s driver pulled up and then asked, ‘How far away is the hospital?’
‘It’s just five minutes away,’ Libby said. ‘Without traffic!’
The streets were packed.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Nikolai said.
Daniil seemed to think so too and he shook his head when Rachel offered to climb in the back with them. ‘There’s no need.’
‘But what if she has it on the way?’ Rachel asked as she protested her dismissal.
‘How many babies have you delivered, Rachel?’ Daniil asked.
‘Er, that would be none.’
‘How about you, Nikolai?’
‘Two,’ Nikolai answered, and smothered a smile at Rachel’s pout. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he offered.
‘God, no!’ Libby said.
‘You’ll let me know when she has it,’ Rachel checked. ‘I don’t care what time it is!’
‘Of course.’ Daniil gave her a nod and then got in the back with his wife and as they drove off she turned to Nikolai.
‘You took all the drama out of that, didn’t you?’ Rachel accused.
And then, then she got his smile.
His full one.
It was like a wave rushing in unexpectedly—with no buffer. He was absolutely beautiful and his smile welcomed her, for the very first time, into his space.
She stood there, late in the afternoon on a busy street, as if finally alone with him, and smiled back.
‘How come you’ve delivered two babies?’ Rachel asked, moving one step closer. ‘Are you a doctor?’
‘No.’
‘A nurse, then?’
‘Please, no.’
‘Then how—?’
‘I worked on ships,’ Nikolai said. ‘The first baby I delivered, the mother was a stowaway and they don’t tend to declare they are pregnant and neither do they come with health insurance.’
‘Oh, my God!’ He was utterly fascinating, Rachel decided. She simply had to know more. ‘Tell me!’
‘The mother and baby were fine.’
‘What about the other one? Was she a stowaway as well?’
‘No, she was a colleague and didn’t know she was pregnant. That baby was very small.’
‘Did it live?’
‘Yes.’
Rachel wanted to snap her fingers for more information but he told her no more.
Nikolai could feel her curiosity and impatience and he cast another slow smile in her direction.
Oh, his mouth was like a magnet because with just a small shift of his lips Rachel took a step towards him.
‘I’m going to find out,’ she warned him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not.’
‘I’m very persistent. Just watch me.’
‘I am watching you.’
She was tall. It had been a bane career-wise but it was a pleasure now because it meant that in high heels she was close to eye level with him. Nikolai did not move from her proximity and rare was the man who wasn’t just a little bit intimidated by Rachel in seductive mode.
He was far from intimidated.
‘I think the music might have started,’ she said.
‘Probably.’ Nikolai responded, though he made no move to head back inside.
‘So,’ she asked, ‘are you going to ask me to dance?’
She was a flirt and a very skilled one at that, but, she fast realised, she was no match for Nikolai. She expected him to shrug, or say maybe, or even to agree and ask her to dance. Instead, he answered her with a truth.
‘I don’t need to ask.’ He took her hands and moved them so they came around his neck, then he placed his hands on her hips. ‘Do I?’
They were out on the street, standing to the side of the red carpet that led to the hotel, and she swayed to no music as he stood still.
She tried to move her body in but he held her so that she could not, all she could do was look into his eyes.
He stared back at her and she had never met anybody so good at eye contact. It wasn’t invasive or uncomfortable; instead, their eyes told each other secrets.
His gaze told her of his desire, and hers told Nikolai that he could kiss her now.
Please.
Yet he did not.
Instead, his eyes told her he would make her wait for that pleasure.
She moved her mouth in, just a little.
He moved his face back.
His hands were warm through her dress but nothing compared to the heat between her legs. Perhaps it was better that they did not kiss because if his mouth met hers now, she might ignite.
‘We should go inside,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Rachel asked, because she rather liked being out here with him. ‘I’m not on baby watch any more.’
‘We need to talk.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk.’
Usually he didn’t. Their lips were almost touching but it wasn’t just the feel of a mouth that he wanted—he wanted to hear her words.
‘I want to talk about you—I want to know just who it is that André is marrying.’
And she smiled because it would seem that, despite his apparent indifference, he had been paying attention after all.
‘That’s not very fair,’ she teased. ‘Why would I tell you about myself when I know nothing about you?’
‘I don’t play fair,’ he said, and she felt her heart rate quicken as he looked right into her eyes and told her that he made his own rules. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’
‘It’s going to be very loud in there,’ she pointed out, more than happy to stay outside for a while longer. She wanted to find a seat, to be alone with him, rather than be dragged back into the crowd. ‘Not very good for conversation.’
‘We’ll manage,’ Nikolai said. ‘We just need to get close.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6b4366f2-e0d6-5a46-902f-301e75e6cb53)
NIKOLAI TOOK RACHEL by the hand and they headed back inside.
The doors were held open for them as they entered the ballroom. Indeed, the music had started and, though there was an ache for physical contact, there was a need to be close on a different level.
Nikolai was not used to needing to know more about somebody. He usually preferred minimal exchange of information, yet somehow she intrigued him just as much as he fascinated her.
Why, Rachel wondered as he led her to a dark corner, was she considering telling this man something that she was struggling to tell her very best friend? Maybe it was because, unlike Libby, he had seen her discomfort about the topic of André’s wedding. Rachel didn’t blame Libby a bit—clearly her mind had been on other things this afternoon. Still, Rachel could just imagine Libby’s reaction if, or rather when, she found out that it was her cousin Shona that André was marrying.
Libby’s distaste she did not want to see.
Would she get that from Nikolai?
Rachel truly didn’t know.
Still, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. She was tired trying to work through it herself.
He called a waiter over and asked for coffee, which was served with a slice of wedding cake.
She liked it that he did not rush her to speak, that instead he watched as she peeled back the icing from the cake and picked off the marzipan.
‘You don’t like it?’ Nikolai checked.
‘No.’
He took it from her plate and as she watched his fingers tear the pale yellow dough, Rachel wondered if she might change her mind about not liking marzipan just to have him lift it to her lips.
He was shockingly attractive, not just in looks but in his measured movements and the way his eyes lifted and met hers. Instead of asking her about André, he asked about her.
‘You dance professionally?’ he asked.
‘I do,’ Rachel said. ‘Well, I’ve actually just left the company. We dancers age terribly...’
‘How old are you?’
‘Nineteen,’ Rachel said, and wondered if he’d get her little joke—the curve of his delicious mouth told her that he did. ‘I’m thirty-two,’ Rachel told him. ‘You?’
‘Thirty-one.’
‘And not dead.’
‘Nope.’
‘I’m so glad.’
‘So am I,’ Nikolai agreed with a wry smile.
‘Will you keep in touch with them?’ Rachel asked. ‘Now that—?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Nikolai interrupted. ‘I’m just here for tonight.’
She wanted to protest, but it wasn’t her place. In truth, there was also an odd comfort that tomorrow he would be gone. She could tell him her truth and not have to face him again.
‘So why are you not looking forward to the next wedding that you are to attend?’
Rachel had to pause before answering. His English, though excellent, was slightly disjointed and spoken in an accent far stronger than either Sev’s or Daniil’s.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Nikolai said, taking her silence as discomfort, but Rachel shook her head.
‘No, no.’ She actually wanted to tell him. ‘It’s a bit...’ she pulled a face ‘...unsavoury.’
‘Do tell.’
‘The groom is an ex-boyfriend of mine.’
‘Okay.’
‘And the bride is my cousin.’
She waited for his eyebrows to rise, or for any indication that he found that distasteful, but he just stared back at her and his impassivity allowed her to go on.
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