by Susan Lewis
For a moment even Lizzy was daunted. ‘Then all I can say is, Rule Britannia,’ she responded finally.
There’s a bleep coming down the line,’ Rhiannon laughed, ‘which I imagine means someone is trying to get through, so I’d better ring off.’
‘OK. Call me if you’ve got any news.’
‘Same your end,’ Rhiannon replied. ‘And call Andy now!’ She rang off before Lizzy could protest and took a call from Ula asking if she could be ready by ten when Ula would come by to drive her over to Malibu.
At five minutes to ten Rhiannon was standing in front of the mirror wanting to rip an Armani dress apart at the seams for it looked more like a pile of old ironing than it did a stylishly-cut shift dress that should be perfect for a day out at a Malibu mansion. Just what the hell did someone wear when visiting that kind of place? More to the point, how did one dress for a first meeting with one of America’s leading business tycoons who, apart from everything else about him, was on the point of marrying her old school friend? And what the hell difference did it make what she wore? She didn’t imagine for one minute that he was agonizing over his wardrobe in the hope of impressing her. And who wanted to impress him anyway? He was just another man. A multi-millionaire and possibly, probably, a murderer, it was true, but nevertheless just a man.
It was only now, as her mind buzzed about in such an idiotic turmoil while clothes piled up fast on the bed and the clock ticked past ten, that she realized how incredibly nervous she was at the prospect of meeting Max Romanov.
She was on the point of trying to psych herself back to calm when the doorman called up to announce Ula’s arrival. Deciding the Armani dress would just have to do, Rhiannon scooped up her bag and keys, gave herself one last quick check in the mirror, then locking up behind her ran down the stairs to the lobby. Seeing her uncertainty, the doorman pointed outside to where a tall, willowy brunette with transluscent white skin, crimson cheeks and lively blue eyes was standing beside a black Toyota and looking eagerly towards the door as Rhiannon came out.
‘We’ve all been hearing so much about you,’ she said, holding Rhiannon’s hand between both of hers as she shook it. ‘Hell, I feel like I know you already. Did you sleep well? Still a touch jet-lagged, I guess.’
‘Actually, I think I’m fine,’ Rhiannon smiled, wincing at the faint echo of an American accent that had found its way into her voice. ‘Nervous, but fine.’
‘Nervous?’ Ula said in surprise. ‘Not about meeting Max, surely? He’s a pussy-cat.’
Rhiannon’s left eyebrow formed a cycnical arch, making Ula laugh.
‘I swear it,’ she said, pulling open the passenger door for Rhiannon to get in. ‘We’ll take my car. Someone will run you back later. And believe me when I tell you Max is a sweetheart. He’s sure looking forward to meeting you.’
Not entirely believing that, Rhiannon waited for Ula to slip into the driver’s seat, then fastening her belt she said, ‘Where’s Galina?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you on the phone?’ Ula said, frowning at her forgetfulness as she started up the engine. ‘She and Max had to go see the rabbi this morning. They should be home by the time we get there,’ she added pulling out on to Via Marina. ‘Max just flew in from New York last night, as I expect you know, so he and the guys will probably go straight into conference when he gets back from the rabbi’s. The guys being Maurice and Ellis who Galina probably already told you about? She did? Good. Anyway, I expect you read the papers so you’ll know Max is facing insider trading charges which has put him in a real good mood, let me tell you, ’cos Max just loves being charged with crimes he didn’t commit. I take it you know this isn’t the first time it’s happened.’ There was a wry lilt to her voice that made Rhiannon laugh and almost tempted her to try drawing Ula out, but on hasty reflection she decided she’d be wiser to leave it until she knew her a little better.
A few minutes later they were cruising along Ocean Boulevard heading towards the Pacific Coast Highway which would take them out to Malibu. Ula continued chattering about Max and his children and Galina and Ellis and the cat, Snoop, who had recently been spayed. Rhiannon listened and laughed and gazed out at the spectacular views over Santa Monica Bay and the mountains that swelled into the sea fog and wondered idly if she could ever bring herself to live in LA. Just the one brief visit she had made a couple of years ago had been enough to show her how everything was on such an impossible scale here that saturation point was merely the start line. The entire town, from what she recalled, was like a giant movie screen where endless cameos of life and death, horror and love, eccentricity and innovation combined to create the great magical dream of Hollywood. It was an energizing, terrifying and wholly unreal place to visit – and to live there, Rhiannon imagined, would probably be very much the same.
The journey to Malibu seemed much shorter than she had expected it to be, for in no time at all Ula was turning off the Highway and winding along the bluff towards the edge of the cliffs.
‘Not far now,’ she said, slowing up to let a speeding Volkswagen pass before she made a left turn into a shady winding road that led them past some of the grandest-looking estates Rhiannon had ever seen. It was at the end of that road that Ula paused, while a security guard activated the two vast black iron gates in front of him and waved them through.
Rhiannon looked about her, drinking in the glorious blue of the sea and sky that provided the backdrop to the towering palms that lined the drive. Up ahead she could see the outer walls of the house and the closer they drew the more nervous she could feel herself becoming. It was rare for her to feel inadequate or out of her depth, but she was certainly feeling that way now and right at that moment she wasn’t holding out much hope that an actual meeting with Max Romanov was going to improve her condition. The surprising thing was that until that morning she’d never really given him much thought before, not on a personal level anyway. He was simply the man at the head of a publishing empire, or at the centre of a murder scandal, or whom Galina was going to marry. Whereas now, quite unexpectedly, he was turning into some kind of icon whom she had no idea whether she should fear or revere.
‘Hey, why so gloomy?’ Ula teased as she circled the car around the forecourt fountain. ‘We’re all on your side, you know.’
Rhiannon’s head came round. ‘I wasn’t aware there were any sides,’ she said.
Ula laughed. ‘Lighten up, will you,’ she said. ‘It was a joke. I told you, Max is a great guy. You’ll see. He’ll be real polite in welcoming you to his home. He’ll tell you how honoured he is that you came all the way over from England. He’ll show you round, tell you something about the history of the place. He’ll invite you to stay if you get lonely at the apartment. He’ll make sure you’ve got his private number and tell you to call if there’s anything you need. He’ll introduce you to the kids. . . . Shit, I don’t know what he’ll do, but take it from me, it’s not going to make a bit of difference what else is going down in his life, he’s going to make you feel more welcome than you’ve felt in a long time. I know, because I’ve seen him in action a lot of times, and he’s got a real knack for tuning out the bad and turning on the charm.’
Rhiannon stepped out of the car and looked up at the beautiful colonnaded façade of the Italian-style villa with its pure white walls, multi-levelled red-tiled roofs and exquisite domes. She could hear the sound of children shrieking and splashing about in a pool. The sun was so bright that the vibrant colours of the flowers climbing the walls and filling the beds seemed to shimmer and slip into each other like running paint on a page.
‘Where is everyone?’ Ula said to an old man who was coming out of the front door to greet them. ‘Rhiannon, this is Leo,’ she continued without waiting for an answer. ‘He’s worked for Max’s family since before Max was born. He’s a bit deaf now, so you have to speak up.’
Feeling a little as though she was moving through a dream, Rhiannon shook the old man’s hand and followed Ula into the enormous entrance hal
l, where twin cantilever staircases rose from each side of the room and circled round to meet at a Venetian-style balcony that overhung an enchantingly simple indoor fountain at the centre of the hall.
Rhiannon broke into a smile. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so lovely,’ she murmured, allowing her eyes to follow the dramatic sweep of the walls right up to the skylights, then back down to where the twin landings of the upper floor stretched around the semicircle like giant arms ready to embrace.
‘I’m glad you think so.’
At the sound of a male voice Rhiannon swung round and felt her mouth turn dry as Max Romanov walked across the hall towards her. He was taller than she’d expected and much darker. He was also, with his glowering black eyes, thick, heavy brows, prominent nose and generous mouth, one of the most attractive men she’d ever encountered.
‘Welcome,’ he said, holding out his hand. There was no pleasure in his eyes, not even the hint of a smile on his lips.
Rhiannon struggled to find her voice, but the shock of his brusqueness after all Ula had said was suddenly compounded by the sight of the man walking into the hall behind him.
Following the direction of her eyes, Max turned round and was on the point of introducing him when he suddenly swore under his breath. Rhiannon’s eyes darted between the two men as Ramon moved towards her, so unfazed by the moment that he might almost have been expecting it.
Raising her fingers to his lips he said, ‘It would appear, oh, lovely senorita, that we are destined to meet again.’
To her amazement, considering the terrible memories this man should evoke, never mind the shock of actually seeing him again – and of all places here – Rhiannon found herself responding to the humorous light in his eyes. He lowered her hand and the whiteness of his smile in his dark, craggy face almost made her laugh as she was reminded of something Lizzy had once said about an old crooner they had just filmed. ‘He’s the kind of bloke that tangoes his way straight to your libido, then promptly drops you on the first back flip.’
It wasn’t hard to see that Ramon was exactly that kind of man, but right now, for the second time in her life he was the most welcome sight Rhiannon could imagine. For as he stood there smiling at her with all the warmth of a Mediterranean sun, she could feel the coldness of Max’s presence like a chill Siberian winter gathering on a close horizon.
Chapter 18
‘I LIKE TO think’, Rhiannon said, ‘that coincidences happen for a reason, or that maybe they aren’t coincidences at all.’ Smiling the challenge, she glanced over at Ramon, then returning her eyes to the spectacular view of the ocean as they ambled down the hillside towards the private beach below, she said, ‘Or is that too Celestine?’
Eyebrows raised, Ramon moved a blade of grass from one corner of his mouth to the other and dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his shorts. His dark, leathery skin was glistening in the heat, a glimmer of mischief was playing about his eyes. A few minutes ago she had tried to thank him for what he had done in Marrakesh, but he had gently brushed her words aside, as though telling her that his role was something she should not trouble herself with remembering. Which didn’t mean, she had realized, that he was trying to diminish what had happened; it was simply concern that his presence might be causing her some distress.
It had, initially, but the awkward and startled moments of her arrival had happened several hours ago now, when Galina’s excited rush into the hall couldn’t have been more timely. Clapping her hands with delight that Rhiannon and Max had already met and appearing not to notice the tension, she had proceeded to make the introductions, telling Rhiannon that Ramon was an old friend of Max’s family and that Max was in a foul mood because his lawyer, Maurice, whom Rhiannon would meet at lunch, hadn’t yet managed to get the charges against him dropped. Then kissing Max briefly on the mouth, she had narrowed her eyes at the blackness of his temper, told him to call the rabbi to apologize for his rudeness that morning, then had promptly taken Rhiannon off for a tour of the house.
Rhiannon hadn’t seen Max since, not even at lunch when she had met Ellis and Maurice and Maurice’s wife, Deon. Max’s children had sat either side of Galina at one end of the table, demanding her attention and apparently delighting her with just about everything they said or did. In fact, had she been their natural mother she couldn’t have been more doting, nor more attentive to their discipline and manners. At the same time she managed to keep up with the conversation going on around her and looked so impossibly lovely and happy, sitting in the dappled shade of the bougainvillaea-draped gazebo, that Rhiannon couldn’t remember ever having seen such a picture of perfection.
Ramon had put in a second appearance some twenty minutes ago when he had found her and Galina sitting with their feet dangling in the pool as they discussed arrangements for the wedding. When he’d invited them to join him for a stroll down to the beach Galina had started out with them, then suddenly remembering something she needed to discuss with Max, she had gone back to the house. That was when Rhiannon had tried to thank Ramon for Marrakesh and she appeared to be getting no further now with the mysterious coincidence of them both being there, than she had with her apology.
‘OK,’ she said, when he still didn’t answer, ‘let’s try this another way. How does it come about that I know Galina and you know Max and that we should find ourselves guests at their wedding only a matter of months after you rescued me from what might very well have proved a fate worse than death? Would you call it coincidence or would you call it something else?’
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed out to sea. ‘You are assuming I am here for the wedding,’ he responded.
‘Would you be here for any other reason?’ she countered.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe not.’
She was left thinking that maybe he was, but deciding there were already enough avenues to pursue without going down that particular one, she said, ‘I’m sure Galina told me, but remind me, how do you know Max?’
Contrary to her expectation, there was no hesitation in his reply. ‘Our families go back a long way,’ he told her. ‘We are both descended from Russian Jews. To us that means something.’
‘And the Straussens?’ she said, hoping to catch him off-guard.
‘The Straussens?’ he repeated, apparently unfazed.
‘I’m sure you know who they are,’ she said affably.
He smiled. ‘They are not of Russian descent.’
‘But you do know them?’
‘Of course.’
She waited, hoping that some kind of an explanation would follow, but his silence was as relaxed as the heat-hazed mountains and apparently as impenetrable.
‘Have you ever discussed what happened in Marrakesh with Max?’ she said, surprising herself with the abruptness of the question when the possibility that he actually might have had only just occurred to her.
‘No,’ Ramon answered. ‘We’ve never discussed it.’
The tone of his voice caused Rhiannon’s eyes to widen. ‘But he knows what happened?’ she said, turning to look at him.
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
Ramon took a moment to consider his reply. ‘He was concerned for you,’ he said finally.
Rhiannon frowned. That doesn’t answer my question,’ she said. ‘And why would Max Romanov be concerned for me when he doesn’t even know me? More to the point, how did he know that there was any need for concern?’
Ramon was smiling. ‘You must ask Max,’ he said. ‘I am not sure he will tell you, but it is him you must ask.’
For a moment Rhiannon looked annoyed, then rolling her eyes she said, ‘You know I won’t do that.’
Ramon laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you are afraid of him? He is a difficult man, it is true, but he loves his children.’
It was Rhiannon’s turn to laugh. Then deciding to change the subject she said, ‘Will you be staying in LA long?’
‘A few weeks, maybe,’ he answered. ‘And you?’
/> ‘Just two weeks.’
‘You must get back for your work?’ he said.
‘Mmm,’ she answered, moving her eyes off down the beach to where the rocks spilled out into the sea. London suddenly seemed a very long way away, but even at this distance the future still felt bleak. ‘Maybe we could meet up later in the week,’ she suggested, forcing a brightness into her voice. ‘We could be tourists together.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ he told her. ‘But I am afraid that I will be leaving Los Angeles in the morning to attend to some business in the south. Naturally, I shall be back before the wedding. Maybe we can spend some time together next week. Will you still be here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you are staying where? Not at the house, I see.’
‘No, at Galina’s apartment.’
He nodded, pushing his bottom lip forward.
‘So, what kind of business are you in?’ she asked. ‘I mean, when you’re not rescuing damsels in distress.’
‘That is my speciality,’ he said.
Rhiannon’s smile widened. ‘Do you have a cape?’ she asked. ‘Do you change your clothes in telephone kiosks and walk up walls? Or do you have a fetish for flying mammals?’
Laughing he said, ‘I gave up the gimmicks some years ago. They’re not dignified in an old man. Now, all I have is a weakness for beautiful women.’
‘And a knack for avoiding questions,’ she added, enjoying the compliment. ‘But I don’t give up so easily.’
‘Then I shall enjoy being pursued,’ he smiled, glancing back up the hill. ‘As we are being now.’
Rhiannon turned to see Galina and Max strolling after them, their arms draped loosely around each other’s shoulders, a murmured exchange as they approached causing them both to smile. It was like watching summer and winter, one of them so golden and fair, the other so dark and forbidding, yet as they laughed their beauty made Rhiannon’s heart tighten – though whether it was entirely admiration was hard to say, when the prospect of another meeting with Max was putting an uncomfortable edge on her nerves.
