by Lucy Gordon
He was giving her a curious look.
‘I wonder what you really meant to say,’ he mused. ‘You’re doing what my daughter calls talking “itty-bitty”. It means floundering for words just to change the subject.’
‘It’s only that we’re going too fast,’ she pleaded.
‘How can you say that after last night? We made love.’ He eyed her uncertainly. ‘Didn’t we?’
‘I don’t know what we did. It was beautiful, but-’
‘Yes, it was beautiful. You’re not trying to say that it was only sex, are you?’
‘No, but-’
‘We’ve wanted each other. Don’t tell me it was all on my side. Not after the way you came to life in my arms, and the things you whispered to me.’
‘I’ve wanted you as well, but it doesn’t have to be love. I won’t go through that again.’
‘Alysa, listen,’ he said seriously. ‘I don’t want to love you any more than you want to love me. Do you think I haven’t fought this? I have, day and night. But we may have no choice.’
‘We’re free beings. We make our own choices.’
‘Nobody is as free as that. I thought I’d always be hounded by Carlotta, and everything that happened. But you set me free. Now it’s you that I need.’
‘Drago, please, don’t rush me.’
‘You mean I should stand back while you return to that life you’ve made a refuge because you think it’s safer than love?’ His voice became grimly ironic. ‘A partnership in a firm of accountants! How can I compete with that?’
‘You’re not being fair.’
‘Maybe not, but that’s another thing about love-it isn’t fair. Or is there something else that you’re hiding?’
‘Stop trying to steamroller me,’ she cried. ‘Give me a chance to think.’
‘I didn’t mean-’ He checked himself with a groan. ‘I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Coming on strong, trying to pressurise you.’
‘Does it work well with business negotiations?’ she asked wryly.
He nodded. ‘I’ve bullied people before,’ he sighed. ‘But I should have remembered that it doesn’t work with you.’
‘No, I bully back too well,’ she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Why don’t we go back now?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A S THEY walked back to the villa Drago smiled and talked pleasantly, but Alysa felt with a heavy heart that the sun had gone in for them. He was no longer at ease with her, and she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t at ease with herself. She didn’t even begin to understand herself.
She had thought of him ceaselessly, had felt close enough to be his other self, despite the miles apart. Yet when the moment had come she’d backed off, driven away from him by a force too strong for her to resist.
Am I crazy? she thought. Or just reasonable? We’ve only spent a little time together. It’s an illusion that we know each other-a beautiful illusion, but the risk is too great. Why can’t I take risks any more?
As they were drinking wine after dinner that evening, Drago said, ‘The day you arrived you said there was something you wanted to say to me. We never did get round to discussing that.’
For a moment she couldn’t think what he meant. The events of the last few days had blotted out everything but him. Then it came back to her.
‘Oh yes. Something happened that day-I suddenly knew what I want to do most. If only I could make you understand…’
‘Try me,’ he said gently.
She was too distracted to look at him closely, or she might have seen the renewed hope in his eyes.
‘It’s about James,’ she said. ‘I want to make my peace with him.’
He frowned and drew back a little. ‘But how can you do that?’
‘I went to the cemetery again. He looked so lonely among the rejects, and I was the person who put him there.’
‘Nonsense. He put himself there.’
‘In a sense, yes, but when I denied all knowledge of him just after he died I banished him. Now I’d like to take him home.’
His head shot up. ‘What?’
‘I want to have him returned to England and buried there. It’s terrible to see him in that corner when Carlotta is still honoured. At least he should have a little kindness. What are you staring at?’
‘I think you must have taken leave of your senses.’
The light had died out of his eyes and a kind of ferocity had taken its place.
‘After all this time,’ he said, ‘everything that’s happened-you still haven’t freed yourself from him. Have you learned nothing?’
‘Yes, I’ve learned that I have to forgive him before I can find peace.’
‘You don’t owe him anything.’
‘You don’t owe Carlotta anything, but you still cover her with flowers. I know it’s partly for Tina, but there’s more to it. You’ve forgiven her, and this is my way of forgiving James. But I need you to help me.’
‘How?’
‘You know people, you can use your influence to get me the necessary permissions.’
‘Not in a million years,’ he said flatly.
‘But why?’
‘Have you any idea what you’re asking? Do you think it’s easy to raise a coffin and send it to another country? I thought you’d got beyond this point and put him behind you,’ he said angrily.
‘He is behind me.’
‘I don’t think so. Not if you’ll go to all this trouble to keep him with you.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Isn’t it? Are you sure?’
She could see that he was really angry, and disappointment swept her. She’d been so certain she could rely on him, and now he was letting her down. Something stubborn rose within her. If that was how it was, she wouldn’t beg.
‘Fine. I’ll manage this on my own. That’s what I should have done from the start.’
‘Then maybe that’s it-the thing that was keeping you away from me. The truth is you still love him.’
‘No! I don’t love him, but I’m still not free of him, any more than you’re free of Carlotta.’
‘Don’t try to pretend it’s the same thing,’ he growled. ‘We were married for ten years. She gave me the child I love. She was a good wife, except for the end.’
He was looking at her with hard, challenging eyes. Remembering what she knew, Alysa felt her temper flare.
‘That’s just it,’ she raged. ‘She was “a good wife” because she had a family who wanted to think of her that way, but James had no family, nobody to defend him except me.’
‘He rejected you.’
‘And she rejected you, but you haven’t faced it. That’s why her grave is still covered in red roses, because you have to cling to your image of her.’
‘Then how come I told you I love you?’ he shouted.
‘Maybe you do, but I’m second best, and I always will be as long as you have this fantasy picture of her as the perfect wife-except for the fact that she left you.’
‘Suppose I do think of her like that. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.’
The challenge took her breath away. She could do exactly what he suggested, if only he knew. One sight of that letter and his illusions would vanish. For a moment she hovered on the verge of temptation.
‘Well?’ Drago persisted. ‘You think you know her better than I did. Why don’t you tell me why?’
Alysa let out her breath slowly.
‘I’m not saying that. All I know of her is what happened at the end.’
‘You mean when she took James from you. I understand why you hate her, but don’t expect me to hate her as well.’
The air seemed to be singing in her ears. She had only to tell him the brutal truth, and back it up by fetching the letter from its hiding place in England. It would be so easy to do.
‘No,’ she said at last with a sigh. ‘It wouldn’t be right to hate her.’
The moment had passed. She wouldn’t tell him now.
‘Tina seems to be finding Elena rather hard-going,’ he said.
‘Then you should get back to her as soon as possible,’ Alysa advised at once. ‘She comes first. And I have to be going home.’
‘Ah yes, Brian and the partnership. I’m surprised he could let you go.’
‘I told him I was touting for business.’ With a little laugh she showed she wasn’t troubled. ‘In a sense it was true. There were a lot of amazing people in your house, some with business interests in England, so I may do very well out of this visit.’
‘I’m glad it wasn’t a complete waste,’ he said stiffly.
‘Nothing’s ever wasted with me. I can always turn things to good account.’
He took a step forward and seized her shoulders.
‘Stop it! Don’t talk like that. Who do you think you’re dealing with?’
‘I’m trying to make this easier for both of us.’
‘Like hell you are. You’re turning yourself back into her, aren’t you?’
She didn’t need to ask who he meant by ‘her’: that other self who’d lived behind a wall of ice, and who might still tempt her when things became painful.
‘I’m being sensible. You have to leave, I have to leave,’ she said. ‘Would you rather I threw a hissy fit and begged you to put me first and your little girl second? That would be selfish and disgusting, and you know it.’
He groaned, running his hand through his hair.
‘Yes, it would. But it worries me when you talk of being sensible. It’s dangerous.’
‘It’s my natural state,’ she said in a rallying tone.
‘In that case, let’s be sensible, and get ready to leave early tomorrow,’ he said, scowling.
‘Fine. I’ll get packed.’
Suddenly she was glad to be leaving. The hope that had vibrated so thrillingly between them was dead, and there was no reason to stay.
Nothing was said, but they both knew they would sleep apart that night, and after their meal they retired to different rooms. Now she was in the same room where she’d slept when she’d first come here, listening for sounds coming from next door. But there was nothing, only silence, like the silence between them.
Next day he drove her to the airport.
How different this was from last time, she thought sadly. Then the atmosphere between them had been charged with hopes unfulfilled and hopes for the future that might yet be fulfilled. Their parting had been yearning and bittersweet. Now it was only resigned and slightly despairing.
At the barrier they paused and regarded each other.
‘I guess we only managed to get part-way down the road,’ he told her.
‘We asked for too much,’ she said sadly.
‘I don’t believe it was too much. I told you that I love you. That won’t change. When you’ve decided what you want, I’ll still be here.’
‘You’d better forget about me. My head’s too mixed up.’
‘And so is your heart,’ he said. ‘But when you’re ready to move on you’ll find me here, however long it takes. When you come back-No, don’t shake your head. You will come back.’
‘Because that’s what you’ve decided?’ she asked with a faint smile.
‘If you want to put it that way. I won’t take no for an answer. I’m a tyrant, remember? An awkward, overbearing lout who demands his own way in everything.’
Her eyes were suddenly misty as she reached out to touch his cheek. He might bad-mouth himself as much as he liked, this great, gentle man with the tender eyes and the fierce armour that kept slipping, leaving him defenceless. She knew the truth, and her heart broke because she couldn’t cast aside caution and throw herself into his arms for ever.
‘No, that’s not what you are,’ she said. ‘Tina was right.’
‘What did Tina say about me?’
‘Ask her. If you play your cards right, she might tell you.’
‘If you’re playing mind games with me,’ he said, ‘then we’re not finished.’
He held her eyes with his own.
‘I’ll see you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know when, but I will.’
Then he walked away.
Alysa landed in England at midday and behaved like a perfect, responsible businesswoman, going straight into work and conferring with her colleagues. After four hours she departed with an arm full of files and spent the evening on the phone to clients.
Finally, at one in the morning, she faced the thing she’d been avoiding, and unlocked the safe where she kept Carlotta’s letter.
She read it through once more, thinking of how it would destroy Drago’s illusions if he saw it, castigating herself as a fool who didn’t know where her own best interests lay.
Tell him, urged her common sense. It’ll hurt him for a while, but it’ll clear the way for you. You’ll have all his heart then, and perhaps that will conquer your fear and free you to turn to him.
But she knew she wasn’t going to do it. It wasn’t about common sense. It was about the love she felt even while she tried to deny it. It scared her that she’d come so close to telling him the forbidden secret.
She took out the letter from James that she’d also stolen, and read them both one last time. Then she tore them into little pieces, put a match to them and watched as they turned to ashes.
As the months passed she found herself doing again what she’d done before, throwing herself into the job to dull emotions that she didn’t want to have. But it was harder now. Then she hadn’t fully understood what she was doing. This time she knew exactly.
She’d survived once by murdering all feeling and functioning like an automaton, but Drago had destroyed that defence. Now her heart was alive again, and it yearned for him. He’d shown her a new way, and she’d rejected it.
But I can’t face it going wrong again, she mourned. Not just for me, but for him. This is my life now.
As the time passed into November, then December, the weather grew cold-not the bright, edgy cold of approaching Christmas, but a dreary chill. Decorations went up in the office; lists were made of clients who must be sent cards.
More as a personal gesture than anything, Alysa put a few modest decorations up in her home. It wasn’t the joyful display of the Christmas before last, when she’d been full of ill-fated happiness over James. But nor was it the bleak nothingness of last year, when she’d hurried past shop windows containing nativity scenes, eyes averted. She’d come to terms with what her life was turning into. Or so she told herself.
If she’d felt like weakening fate took a hand just then to stiffen her resolve, Brian chose that moment to tell her that her partnership was settled.
‘We’re going to make an occasion of it,’ he said. ‘Dinner at the Ritz, with everyone there-all the partners and their wives-just to welcome you. I’ll be your escort, so take tomorrow off to buy a new dress. Go on. I don’t want to see you in the office until you’ve bought something eye-catching.’
Next morning she got up early to head for the West End, but she soon realised that it was going to be one of those awkward days. As she was heading for the lift, she heard the phone begin to ring in her apartment, dashed back, dropped her keys and managed to get the front door open just as the ringing stopped.
She punched in the keys to find out where the call had come from, but there was nothing to tell her.
Which means it’s probably a foreign number, she thought. Drago?
It wasn’t wise to call him, but she found herself dialling his number. But all she got was the engaged signal. She held on, hoping it would stop. When it didn’t she hung up and dialled again. Still engaged.
Not Drago, then. Probably a wrong number.
But it happened again, just as she reached the front door. This time she ran back fast, but the ringing stopped just as she reached out her hand.
‘Well, you’re not Drago,�
� she told the phone when she’d slammed it down. ‘He’d never dither like that. Now, I’m going.’
The streets were full of Christmas. Neon angels floated overhead, their lights flickering on and off even at this early hour. Music played, notices announced, ‘this way to Santa Claus’. Alysa entered one of London ’s exclusive department-stores and found herself almost caught up in the queue for Santa.
She could see him in the distance, sitting at the entrance to his grotto, talking earnestly with a little boy, apparently asking what he wanted for Christmas.
The impossible question, Alysa thought. Two years ago I’d have said that I already had everything I could want-James and our baby. Last year I’d have said I was all right then, that I’d put the past behind me, never dreaming that Drago lay in the future.
But what would I say now-that a few weeks ago I stood at a crossroads and made the wrong choice? That it’s too late to go back? That my future is now my past, and my heart aches for the love I wasn’t brave enough to fight for?
While she mused her feet took her to the entrance to the fashion department, and she forced herself back to the present. Her big moment had come and she was here to celebrate. She repeated that to herself again and again, hoping that it would become real. Or would, at least, start to matter.
The dress she finally chose was dark red, dramatic and magnificent, hugging her waist and hips, and low-cut-just the right side of decency. To go with it she chose a pair of golden sandals with suicidally high heels. The whole outfit was unlike anything she’d worn before, and that was fine. This was her flag of triumph.
On her return to the office she was besieged by her secretary and two others, demanding a display, so she dressed up and paraded before them. For this she’d sacrificed everything, and she was going to enjoy it. Their cries of delight attracted the others in the office. Brian appeared, adding his admiration, and soon everyone was applauding as she paraded up and down. They all knew that she was the victor about to come into her kingdom.
‘Make way for the queen!’ one of them cried.
‘Is this vision the lady I’m to have the honour of escorting?’ Brian asked.
