by Lucy Gordon
Slowly she removed her underwear. He hadn’t touched those intimate garments, and all her senses told her why. He feared to go further, feared to see her naked. Yet she could have sworn that it had nearly happened.
Some deep, primitive instinct told her that Leonid had been on the verge of losing control, kissing her with passion, locking the door and saying to hell with the rest of the world.
That would have been alarming.
But not nearly as alarming as the intensity with which she’d wanted it to happen.
*
The corridor was empty, the Falcon family having drifted away when they’d seen what they were curious to see.
Now Leonid stood there alone, motionless. Even knowing of her injury, he couldn’t help indulging a wild fantasy in which she hobbled to the door and pulled it open to summon him back. So many women had closed doors to him, only to open them with a beckoning finger a moment later.
At last he talked sense to himself and moved away quietly to his own room. He had come to Paris prepared for the unexpected, as he always did with family meetings, but this time events had conspired to knock him sideways. It was like being slammed back against a wall, with no idea what to do about it.
He was a man who valued being in control above all else. Suddenly he had no control left. That was disquieting, but it roused another aspect of himself, one he’d barely known existed. Sooner or later he must regain control, but first he would wait and learn more.
He looked at himself in the mirror, half expecting not to recognise the man he saw there.
He’d been staggered by how he’d felt carrying her upstairs. She wasn’t the first woman he’d lifted in his arms. Far from it. But the others had always been expensive ladies, their bodies pressed voluptuously against his because they knew where he was taking them and why; knew what they would give and what he would give, because the bargain was sealed in advance. That was how he liked it.
But this girl’s body wasn’t voluptuous, only frail. There could be no bargain, only the awareness of her helpless need, demanding that he give and give; and his own unexpected willingness to do exactly that.
But what warmed his heart more than anything was the fact that this meeting hadn’t been planned in advance. Unlike his encounters with various expensive women, this one had been unplanned, spontaneous, and the more beautiful for that. It was as though Fate had tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, I’m still here, you know. From now on, I’ll make the arrangements.
He smiled.
*
As she finished dressing next morning, Perdita’s cellphone rang.
‘Hi, it’s Gary. I thought you’d have called me before this.’
Gary was the editor of a glitzy magazine specialising in ‘hot’ celebrity stories. He was her best customer, but just now he was the last person she wanted to talk to.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked jovially. ‘C’mon, I’m dying to hear about your latest scoop. Don’t tell me you haven’t got close to the family—’
‘Well—’
She was standing by the window, looking down into the street below. There was Leonid, standing by the River Seine, looking out over the water. Glancing up, he saw her and smiled.
‘I’m sorry, Gary. There’s nothing yet.’
‘Nothing? Usually you’ve got it all sorted long before this.’
‘I guess I’m just not being as tricksy as usual,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘No kidding! What’s gone wrong?’
‘Nothing’s gone wrong. Everything’s fine.’
She hung up quickly and stared at the phone, wondering at herself.
Despite her denial, something really had gone wrong. Suddenly she wasn’t her usual self, playing one angle against another, caring for nothing except what she wanted.
She was making a success of this job, accepted into the inner circle, invited to the wedding, trusted by Leonid.
And there lay the problem. Leonid trusted her. And that trust was sacred.
Was it a malign or a generous fate that had shown him her passport with the name Erica Hanson, so that he knew nothing of Perdita Davis, the journalist?
Now the warmth in his eyes seemed to haunt her. This was a man who didn’t give his trust or his warmth easily. But he’d given it to her. And no power on earth would make her betray him.
I’m going crazy, she thought. After today I’ll never see him again, so why shouldn’t I—? Why? Why?
From the corridor outside came a sudden noise. Two men were arguing. One of them was Leonid.
‘I said get the hell out of here and I meant it. Just go now, and don’t let me see you here again, pestering my family.’
‘Look, I only—’ the other man protested.
Instantly Perdita froze. She knew that voice. It belonged to Frank, the photojournalist she’d known briefly a few years ago.
‘I said get out.’ Leonid’s voice was full of rage.
There came the sound of footsteps racing along the corridor, then a knock at her door.
She was full of fear. Had Frank really gone? He mustn’t find her here, because he could tell Leonid things about her that she wasn’t ready for him to know.
She managed to limp to the door and open it, while standing back, so as not to be seen from the corridor. But only Leonid was there.
‘Was that a fight I heard?’ she asked.
‘I’ve just had a bitter encounter with a man who’s been sneaking around trying to invade this wedding. He’s got a camera, so I guess he’s a journalist pursuing Travis.’
‘Travis must be used to that,’ she said.
‘Normally, yes, but this wedding is Marcel’s and it’s private. And Travis may not be the only prey. They chase my father too, trying to find something scandalous. Damn all journalists, deceitful, devious monsters!’
He strode over to the window to look down into the street.
‘There he is, leaving, thank goodness! Come and look.’
‘No, I must—’
Quickly she vanished into the bathroom. She shuddered as she thought what might have happened if she’d gone to the window. Frank could have looked up and recognised her, and that would have been a disaster.
Devious, deceitful. They were the kindest things Leonid would have called her. And that mustn’t happen. She didn’t know where the road led, but she knew that she wanted no distractions.
As she emerged from the bathroom Leonid turned away from the window.
‘Time to go down to breakfast,’ he said. ‘Then to the chapel for the wedding.’
‘Are you sure you want to take me?’ she was impelled to say. ‘It’s such a private thing—they’ve gone to so much trouble to keep strangers out—’
He looked determined. ‘But you’re not a stranger. I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t know I could trust you.’
Perdita wished he hadn’t said that. She was barely able to speak for the storm of emotion that invaded her, but she just managed to thank him.
She knew now that there would be no story.
As they left the room she noticed a slip of white paper just appearing at the top of his pocket. Seeing her look, he pushed it further down.
‘It’s a letter from my mother to my father. I promised her I’d give it to him but I can’t seem to get him alone. And I don’t want to upset Janine by doing it while she’s there.’
‘Leave it to me,’ she said.
‘No, I can’t ask you to give it to him.’
‘That’s not what I meant. Just wait, and be ready to pounce when the moment comes.’
His look of total bafflement gave her one of the most enjoyable moments she’d ever known.
Today she had abandoned the wheelchair and managed to limp slowly and carefully into the elevator, clinging to Leonid’s arm.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.
‘I’m just fine.’
They entered the breakfast room to find the older couple already seated. Perdit
a plonked herself down beside Janine, laughing, admiring her dress, making merry chatter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leonid approach Amos. For a few minutes she occupied Janine’s total attention, only stopping when she saw Amos take the letter from his son and thrust it into an inner pocket. Then she moved away to where the food was laid out, and waited until Leonid joined her.
‘Mission accomplished?’ she murmured.
‘Definitely. And thank you. You’re a genius.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she teased. ‘I’m just a silly gossipy female who can’t shut up for five minutes.’
‘At this moment that looks like just another way of saying genius.’
Breakfast was a hurried meal. Amos glared at everyone, which didn’t seem to trouble them. Evidently they were used to it, Perdita thought.
Then it was time for the wedding. Marcel took his place, with Darius as his best man. The bride was approaching. As Marcel turned to look at her with adoration in his eyes Perdita saw Travis and Charlene put their heads together, absorbed in some private world.
They’re really in love, she thought. What a story. What a scoop! If only I could use it.
Perhaps another time, she thought wistfully. Just now other things were more important.
*
The wedding reception was a triumph that would have sent her into journalistic heaven had things been different. But she’d resolved to make a sacrifice for Leonid’s sake, and she was a woman of her word.
Limping carefully about the room, sipping champagne, she came to the family group. Leonid was mourning the fact that soon they would say goodbye, go their separate ways and not know when next they would meet.
‘But that’s easy,’ Charlene said. ‘Travis’s TV show filmed an episode in London, so why not an episode in Moscow?’
Leonid thumped Travis on the shoulder, saying, ‘Just wait until you get to Moscow and I can boast that this is my brother. Travis, your lady is a genius.’
‘Come on, I only suggested it,’ Charlene laughed. ‘If they do this it will be to please Travis.’
‘True,’ Leonid agreed. ‘Travis is the great man. But a great man needs a great lady beside him all the time.’
‘He certainly does,’ Travis said, glancing at Charlene, but then glancing quickly at Perdita as if to say that Leonid had his own great lady.
Leonid followed his gaze with a look in his eyes that Perdita wished she understood.
The trill of a cellphone made Travis say, ‘Damn! Why does the phone have to ring now? Hello, Joe!—What’s that?’ Then his face brightened. ‘Are you sure? It’s not a mistake?’
What is it?’ Charlene asked.
‘It’s the nominations for the TopGo Television Awards. The firm’s had some advance notice.’
‘And you’ve got a nomination?’ Darius demanded.
It turned out that he had four nominations. Everybody cheered and made a note of the date, the following month.
‘So we’ll all meet again,’ Travis said, looking around.
‘Definitely,’ Leonid agreed. ‘Nothing would make me miss this.’
‘Nor I,’ Amos said unexpectedly. ‘My boy, you’ve done us credit.’
Janine was watching everything with a pleased smile. She moved closer to Perdita until she could murmur in her ear, ‘I’m really grateful to you for deflecting Amos’s fire.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Perdita said carefully.
‘Very shrewdly answered, but I think you do know. I’d never want to see Freya married to Leonid. He’s a real grim character.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Perdita said. ‘How often have you met him?’
‘Only once before, this but that was enough. Like I say, I’m grateful to you, but don’t make the mistake of getting too involved with him. He’d make you regret it.’
‘I’ll bear your warning in mind,’ she said, withdrawing before her indignation overcame her. She could understand why Janine saw Leonid in this way, but it was a shallow judgement, and part of her wanted to leap to his defence. In the brief time she’d known him she sensed that there was a great deal more to him than ‘hard as nails’.
But why should she brood about that? she wondered sadly. In a few hours they would say goodbye. He would return to Russia and she to England. Would they ever see each other again? Almost certainly not.
She shivered.
CHAPTER FOUR
AT LAST LEONID managed to draw Amos aside and say quietly, ‘Father have you read Mother’s letter?’
‘Yes, I’ve read it.’
‘Then you have a reply for me to take home?’
‘Not yet. Give me a little time—’
‘But you’re leaving early tomorrow. Surely—’
‘Stop hassling me,’ Amos growled. Abruptly his manner changed and he raised his voice. ‘Ah, Marcel, there you are. Let me embrace the groom.’
He slid away, leaving Leonid seething.
‘Are you all right?’ Perdita asked, approaching from a distance, where she’d been watching them.
‘No, I’m far from all right,’ he growled. ‘I need to get out into the garden. Let me see you upstairs first.’
‘No, I’d like to come with you—that is, if I may.’
She didn’t say it but he looked like a man who shouldn’t be alone. Whatever could his father have said to put him in this mood?
‘I’m in a vile temper,’ he said. ‘I’ll probably vent it on you.’
‘I’ve been warned. Come on, let’s go. Take my arm and walk carefully.’
Outside the hotel was a large garden, stretching along the Seine. Dusk was falling and the river was brilliant with lights from boats from which music floated. They found a quiet spot where they could be alone.
‘What’s gone wrong?’ she asked when they were settled.
‘Nothing that I shouldn’t have expected,’ he said with a frustrated growl.
‘Your father?’
‘Yes. I spoke to him about my mother’s letter, asked him about the reply he’s supposed to be sending her. Damn him!’
‘You obviously don’t get on well with him.’
‘I’m like all his other sons. We get on well when I do what he wishes. If I don’t he prefers not to know me. He’s great at business, and he wants us to be the same. He judges us by how close we come to his standard.’
‘But you’re a successful businessman, aren’t you? Doesn’t he see you as a chip off the old block?’
‘Mostly, yes. We’ve done some deals together in the past, and I try to keep on his right side. Not for my own sake but for my mother’s. She fell in love with him a long time ago, and she’s never got over him, although it’s years since they last met.’
He became silent, lowering his head, and Perdita saw how his shoulders had sagged. Moved by a surge of sympathy, she reached out and let her arm slide around his neck. She half expected him to flinch away, but he didn’t. Instead he moved closer until his head was almost touching hers.
‘She married very young,’ he said. ‘Her parents chose the man for her and I don’t think she had much say. His name was Dmitri Tsarev. She wasn’t happy. People who knew them then have told me that he wanted a son, but she couldn’t seem to get pregnant. Then she met Amos, who’d come to Russia to explore business possibilities. They met in a country house in the south, near the Don River. Her parents owned it and she was visiting them while Amos was in the neighbourhood, and fell in love with him.
‘But he…well, I think he just enjoyed himself, as with so many other women, then went home and forgot her. He was married to Marcel’s mother at the time. But when he’d gone she found herself pregnant. She tried to contact him but it was a long time before she managed it. In the meantime I’d been born and Dmitri was thrilled to think he had a son.
‘In many ways he was a good father to me in those early years. He loved me and treated me well, but only because he thought I was his. Then Amos returned to Russia and everything was revealed. Dmitri threw us
both out. My mother thought Amos would take us both back to England with him, but he didn’t. He gave her money but left us behind.
‘She’s never got over that. After all these years she lives in a world where Amos truly loves her and would be with her if he could. I live in Moscow and would like to have her with me, but she’s still in her parents’ house, which she inherited. It’s where they were together, and she won’t leave it.’
‘Did her husband never soften towards her?’
‘No. He died a few years ago, still without softening to either of us, but I don’t think she felt that very much. It’s Amos’s desertion that broke her heart. She’s never really let herself believe it. She’s sure that one day he’ll come to her. I used to try to make her see the truth, but I gave that up. She couldn’t bear it. So I’ve given him her letter and I’ll make him reply, although it’ll be a struggle. She wants me to take him back to visit her, but I know he won’t come, and she’ll be left again in the dismal limbo that I can’t do anything about.’
He slammed a fist down on his knee, then again and again. His whole attitude was redolent of anger, despair and misery.
‘I can’t—do anything—about it—’ he raged. ‘She depends on me and I let her down every time.’
‘Leonid, don’t talk like that,’ Perdita said fiercely. ‘It’s not your fault. You weren’t to blame for your mother’s misfortune.’
‘But I’m all she has,’ he groaned. ‘She loved him totally, giving everything she was, and he left her with nothing.’
‘No, he didn’t. He left her a son to love, which means she hasn’t lost everything.’
‘But what use am I? I can’t console her grief. I can’t make up for her losing him.’
‘While you’re there she hasn’t lost him. Not completely. Part of him remains in her life, loving her, thinking of her, concerned for her. As long as she has you, Amos Falcon is still part of her life.’
He grew very still. Then he raised his head and studied her face, frowning with concentration as he struggled to accept what she guessed was a strange point of view to him.
‘She may not have very much happiness in her life,’ Perdita added, ‘but what little she has comes from you, and only you.’
