by Joanna Rees
But then, perhaps that wasn’t how Russian society operated. There was no reason why the Sergeyokovs and the Khordinskys would even know each other, let alone be connected. They probably moved in completely different circles. And now wasn’t the time to pry or risk scaring Natalya off. Not before she’d convinced her that volunteering to help the charity should be her very next step into the London scene.
Besides, Natalya was moving too fast. Emma stood by the door and saw a grim-looking bodyguard holding open the back door of a brand-new black Bentley. She watched as Natalya was swallowed into the plush interior, the door hardly making a sound as the bodyguard closed it, quickly looking around him, before walking around to the front to get into the passenger’s seat next to the unseen driver. Then, silent and sleek, the car slid into the traffic heading towards Hyde Park Corner. Yes, Emma thought to herself, Natalya Khordinsky was one enigma she was determined to crack.
It was early evening by the time Emma stumbled exhausted into the flat in Chester Square. As she shut the door behind her, she felt her whole body relax. With the spotlight on her all day, this was the first moment she’d had to herself. Her feet were aching and she kicked off her new Christian Louboutin shoes, revelling in the easy shabby comfort of the long-familiar, photograph-studded hallway.
The flat was Julian’s, a remnant from his bachelor days. Emma knew that it was one of the last times that she and Julian would be staying here on their own, as Julian wanted to sign over the flat to Cosmo. Emma had to admit that Chester Square was a slightly better address than Cosmo’s current lodgings, in a squat somewhere south of the river. But still, she thought, running her fingers along the wall as she walked, she was going to miss the old place. It was packed with history. Hers and Julian’s. A museum to their relationship. This was the first place he’d ever brought her, the first place they’d kissed, and the first place they’d feverishly torn off each other’s clothes.
Julian had assured her that very soon she could buy a whole house in Chester Square – maybe even the one across the road with the basement swimming pool that Emma so admired. But somehow she already knew that all that grandeur would never be able to compete with the sheer soul of this place.
‘I’m in here,’ Julian called out from the bathroom.
Emma walked through to the large en suite. Julian’s favourite Ella Fitzgerald CD was playing on the ancient stack sound system. Julian was humming along, naked from the waist down as he did up his dress shirt in front of the mirror. He looked so sexy, Emma thought, and despite her exhaustion she felt herself buoyed by a surge of lust rolling down her thighs.
He turned and smiled at Emma, and without a word handed her a glass of the chilled Montrachet he’d opened especially. She’d phoned him on the way over to tell him about her new post and he’d been delighted. She knew the wine was part of the special collection he’d had for years. She clinked glasses with his and he stared into her eyes; connected to him as she was, she understood he was toasting her. She could see in his eyes how proud he was and she smiled back. They had a long-standing tradition of enjoying the first sip of their best wines in silence and she knew how eager Julian was for her to savour this one. So she took a long sip, letting the cool liquid roll over her tongue.
‘God, that’s great,’ she said eventually, leaning up to kiss him.
‘Rather astonishing, I think,’ Julian said, agreeing with her. ‘So? How was it?’
‘Hard work. I’m all talked out. Oh, I met Natalya Khordinsky. She’s in London now.’
Julian looked impressed. ‘Clever you. Did you manage to persuade her to get her husband to slip some money your way?’
‘I’m working on it. Perhaps we should get them over to Wrentham when you’re back from Russia?’
Julian pulled at the end of his bow tie and examined his jaw in the mirror, dabbing tentatively with his finger at a razor nick on his neck. ‘Why not? The more Russian businessmen the merrier, as far as I’m concerned. You know, I’m still so impressed with how smoothly this deal has gone. And after everyone warned me about doing business out there. I really can’t see what all the fuss is about. As I see it, if you put your money where your mouth is, these Russians are fine to work with. And this is just the start. Once this platinum mine is running, there’s no reason why we can’t start investing big time. There are so many other opportunities.’
‘It all sounds wonderful,’ she said.
‘It is. And we’re on a lucky streak. Just between you and me, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to win tonight.’
Emma sighed. She wished they were having an evening in by themselves and that she could collapse on to the four-poster in the master bedroom behind her, instead of going to Fifty, the exclusive Mayfair casino they were due at soon. But Julian had promised Zak, one of the Platinum investors, that he’d play blackjack tonight. Their old friend Graham and his new girlfriend were going, as well as Omar, Jacob and Peter from Julian’s club.
Julian winked at her in the mirror. ‘Come on. Don’t look like that. I know you’re tired, but tonight will be fun. And as Cicero said, you can sleep when you’re dead.’
Emma laughed, having heard his familiar mantra hundreds of times before. He had such insatiable energy that she couldn’t resist it. She wondered whether they made men like Julian any more. All of Cosmo’s friends seemed to spend their whole lives sleeping and moaning. Or stoned. No one seemed to grasp life by the horns like Julian did.
‘OK, OK, I’ll get ready,’ she said, smiling at him. She put down her wine on the antique armoire and undid the zip on her tailored black dress. Carefully she stepped out of it and put it over the arm of the chaise lounge.
Suddenly she became aware of Julian staring at her.
‘What is it?’ she asked, a suspicious smile on her lips. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Just that you don’t look like a chairwoman to me. You’re not nearly austere enough. And altogether too sexy.’
Emma laughed. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’
‘I bet old Mabel Whiteley nearly swallowed her teeth.’
Emma put a foot up on the seat and rolled down one of her seamed black stockings. ‘Her face was a picture.’
‘If only they really knew how much you hate being in the limelight.’
Emma smiled. ‘I don’t like people saying all those nice things about me.’
‘Why not? You should be celebrated, darling.’
‘It all feels too much. As if I’ve got more than my share.’
‘That’s your mother in you talking. You deserve every second of it. Why can’t you just accept your glory and your achievements?’ Julian looked at her in the mirror. ‘What is it?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Surely you must be happy?’
‘Of course I am. I couldn’t be happier. It’s just I worry that . . .’
‘That what?’
Emma sighed. He knew her so well. And that’s why she loved him. Because he knew her inside out and wouldn’t let her brood on anything. He always seemed to be able to root out any negative thoughts she was having and get her to admit them.
‘I don’t know. Everything seems to be changing so fast. What if anything goes wrong? What if we somehow come off the rails?’
Julian smiled and came over to her. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘We won’t,’ he said, ‘silly.’ And looking up into his face, she believed him. ‘Trust me,’ he promised her. ‘I won’t let us.’
Emma hugged him, feeling his body pressing against hers. ‘I wish you weren’t going away. I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said.
‘I haven’t gone yet,’ he said, nuzzling against her as he slid the straps of her silk slip off her shoulders, so that it fell in a soft pool around her feet.
‘Julian,’ she giggled. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Do you remember the first night we spent here?’ he whispered.
Emma blushed. How could she forget? Julian had given her so much oral sex that when she’d had her second orgasm, s
he’d cried out so loudly that the neighbours had banged on the wall.
‘Well, Lady Emma Harvey – or should I just call you Chairwoman Harvey?’ he said, gently pushing her so that she was sitting on the chaise lounge. ‘I know the way to put your mind at ease. Why don’t you lie back and let me show you that some things never change at all.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bright golden sunlight filled the Sardinian bay of Porto Cervo as the guests on board Pushkin ate their breakfast on the sundeck of the top saloon. This was where the European jet set came to start off the party season in the Med and there was a palpable buzz in the air. The Monégasque royal family was here, as well as Jason Greenburgh, the current hot name on the Formula One circuit. But for now, Pushkin, moored out in the bay, was the star attraction.
Below deck, Frankie was more miserable than ever as she looked out of the porthole in the galley towards the jagged Sardinian coastline and the rising promontory of land headed by a lighthouse. Dead ahead was Porto Cervo’s pretty harbour, with its multicoloured buildings and jetties crammed with boats. It all looked so inviting, but the chances of Frankie ever making it ashore were nil.
Everything had changed. And yet nothing had changed. After her kiss with Alex in his study she’d hardly been able to function. And yet she hadn’t even seen him since. It was as if whatever had started to blossom between them had been frozen in amber. A beautiful flower, perfectly preserved, but one that had never been given the chance to grow.
It felt like a dream. And the more time Frankie had to analyse what had happened, the crazier a dream it seemed. It didn’t seem possible that she’d lost control like that, but she had. What would have happened, she’d wondered over and over again, if Richard hadn’t buzzed on the intercom? Would she have had sex with Alex there and then on his desk? Well – yes – she probably would have done. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself.
Now that seemed unthinkable. Unimaginable. But being around Alex had made her lose all her principles. Just when she’d thought she’d overcome her impulsive streak.
What must he think of her?
Frankie shook her head. Being on Pushkin, knowing that Alex was with guests upstairs, was agonizing. And they weren’t just any guests. They’d arrived yesterday lunchtime, an entire entourage of European royalty, including a Dutch princess and her best friend, who just happened to be the famously newly single supermodel Thomasina Rose.
Frankie had caught a glimpse of Thomasina, her catwalk gait instantly recognizable, and she’d wanted nothing more than to push her overboard. How would Alex ever resist her, strutting around all day in her designer bikini? And she spoke perfect Russian.
Frankie had racked her brains, trying to think of a way of getting Alex alone, but even though he was only a few metres away, he might as well have been on a different continent. Roz had chosen Simone to help her serve last night, despite Frankie offering. She obviously didn’t want Frankie thinking she had any special privileges, now that she’d had a training session with the boss.
And then late last night had come the worst blow. Alex and his guests had gone to a party on another yacht, leaving instructions that he wouldn’t be needing Frankie in the gym for the foreseeable future.
Simone, oblivious of how devastating this news had been for Frankie, was full of excitement about the party. When she’d been on shore provisioning, she’d bumped into several of the stewardesses from the other yachts.
‘Everyone’s so excited Alexei Rodokov is here. You know, I read that he’s the number one most desired bachelor in the whole of Europe. Louise on Aurora says that they’ve been overrun with guests. All the party girls from everywhere have flown in. You know, Frankie, it’s really cool that right now, in the whole of Europe, this is exactly where it’s at. They say that Jack Johnson is here and is doing an acoustic set tonight on the yacht. Oh, and . . .’
Frankie had made excuses and gone to bed early. She’d lain on her bunk, watching the moonlight through the tiny porthole and imagining Alex partying. She’d been able to hear the music floating across the water.
She’d felt tears prick her eyes as she’d run her finger over the photo of her family. She’d promised Uncle Brody that she wouldn’t get into trouble. That she’d keep her nose clean. And what had she done? She’d blown it the very first time she’d met the boss. After all the effort she’d made not to appear ‘easy’ with the rest of the crew, she’d practically thrown herself at the one man who could guarantee her job security.
And now, in the bright early-morning light, as she cleared away the crew breakfast, Frankie felt even more of a fool. Alex must think that she was just some stupid little airhead. Or rewritten events. Worked it round in his mind so that she’d been the one who’d made all the moves, not him. As if she was the one who’d overstepped the mark. Why else would he have cancelled their gym sessions?
But that wasn’t how it had been. Was it? He’d been every bit as keen as her. Hadn’t he? Frankie no longer knew.
But whatever the answer to that question was, Frankie knew she’d been a total idiot. How could she ever have thought that Alex would really want her? Their lives were worlds apart.
She wondered now whether she’d even get to see Alex again, and if or when she did, would he be embarrassed about what had happened? Or worse . . . dismissive? As in literally. As in having Richard telling her to pack her bags and go. Maybe what had or hadn’t happened between them was already yesterday’s news.
‘Frankie, Richard wants you on deck,’ Roz said with the worst possible timing, coming into the kitchen and dumping a tray full of coffee cups and a bone-china coffee jug on the steel counter.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. Get a move on.’
For a moment, Frankie’s heart lurched. Could Richard have found out about her and Alex? No, it was impossible. Alex wouldn’t compromise himself like that. Would he?
But what if Alex just wanted her out of the way? What if he’d asked Richard to fire her on some other grounds? She remembered now how dismissive Alex had been of the Forest Holdings Systems Manager he’d said he’d fired. Perhaps that’s what Frankie had become now: an expendable, easily replaceable resource.
On arriving up on deck, it immediately seemed that her worst fears were confirmed. Alex, dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, was there with Richard. But whereas Richard’s eyes locked with Frankie’s instantly, his dark gaze full of suspicion, Alex didn’t even appear to notice her. He flipped down his designer shades from his head and gazed past her out to sea, as if she didn’t exist.
Frankie felt her hands sweating. What if she was expected to explain herself? What if Richard wanted to know her version of what had happened in Alex’s study? It was her word against Alex’s and she realized now what a truly weak, humiliating position she was in.
Richard’s forehead furrowed sternly. ‘Ah, there you are, Frankie,’ he said. ‘Is it true that you’re fully qualified to dive?’
Frankie was so shocked that she wasn’t about to be interrogated that she felt a deep blush rising in her cheeks. Her eyes darted towards Alex, but he still didn’t look at her.
It was only then that she realized what was going on. Jeff was loading the last of the scuba equipment into the Hinckley – the largest of Pushkin’s tenders. Alex hadn’t forgotten his promise!
It took all of Frankie’s willpower not to grin with relief, not to mention whoop with excitement.
‘Of course. Why?’ she said, smoothing her hair behind her ear.
Alex nodded at her curtly, but she noticed the trace of a smile flicker at the edge of his mouth.
That mouth.
The mouth that had kissed her. And that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since.
‘I was just explaining that my glute med is weak,’ Alex dead-panned, slapping the back of his thigh. ‘You know – we discussed it. I’d rather you were with me, just in case it cramps up or anything.’
Frankie nodded, keeping her face seriou
s while still trying to suppress the urge to jump up and down on the spot. ‘No problem, sir. I’ll get my things.’
Richard looked exasperated. ‘But I still think I should come too. Or at least Jeff, since he’s an instructor. The currents around here can be treacherous.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Alex smiled. ‘Frankie and I will be fine on our own. And Dieter will look after the boat whilst we’re diving.’
‘But—’
‘Frankie, Dieter and I will leave in five minutes,’ Alex repeated. ‘So kindly have the boat ready. Put the short wetsuits on board for me and Frankie. We’ll change at the dive site,’ Alex said, making it perfectly clear that he didn’t appreciate Richard mothering him for a second more.
On board the Hinckley, Frankie watched Alex as he revved up the engine and sped away from Pushkin without a backwards glance. Frankie held on to the edge of her plush white leather seat as they bumped over the waves. At the wheel, Alex was completely in control of the boat, as if this was what he did every day.
Dieter sat at the prow, dressed in a black T-shirt and pants, an earpiece on. He scanned the water for other boats. He was like a figurehead. Solid. Still. Silent. He didn’t turn around and glance at them once.
Frankie sat on her hands and squeezed her lips together, looking down at her legs beneath her navy crew shorts, wondering awkwardly whether Alex would notice she hadn’t shaved them this morning. She wished she’d known this was coming. She wished she’d had more time so that she could have looked her best. She felt so daggy. So unprepared.
But when she looked back up, Alex was staring down at her over the top of his shades. Her heart soared as he raised his eyebrows up and down at her, his eyes shining so much that Frankie had to stifle a giggle.
Could he really be as excited as she was?
Not possible, she decided as they cut through the water, leaving the gleaming hulk of Pushkin and two jets of bubbles in their wake, like a V sign. Frankie felt as if she were escaping a prison. She breathed in the fresh air, relishing the freedom, letting the breeze blow through her hair like a lover’s caress.
