Oh, Prague.
She took a deep breath and had to work to catch up with what von Ritter was saying about their first practice piece.
Soon enough she had thrown herself into the music and all else was forgotten until the rehearsal ended and the orchestra was dismissed.
Milan was at her side almost before she’d put down her bow.
“Come celebrate with me,” he said, picking up her violin case and clicking it shut for her. “I’ve booked the Oxo Tower.”
Lydia grimaced. “I’d love to join you but―”
“Don’t say no. It isn’t allowed. You have to come.”
“What time did you book for?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“Can I meet you there?”
“Well, okay. I thought we could get a drink first. Not alcohol!” he said, putting up a hand before she could make the obvious comment.
“In the bar at seven-thirty then. Yes?”
“Yes. You have to go home now?”
“I’m meeting…” She almost lied, almost said Vanessa, then her hesitation gave her away.
“Von Ritter,” he finished.
She nodded. “Don’t make me feel guilty. I’m free to see whoever I want.”
“So is he,” said Milan, looking over to where the conductor stood, deep in conversation with Sarah Latimer, harpist and former Milan-groupie.
“Can’t believe she’s showing her face here,” muttered Lydia, looking daggers at the polished blonde.
“She needs to earn a living,” said Milan with a shrug. “I’m over it.”
“I’m glad,” said Lydia sincerely. “And I’ll be at the restaurant, okay? I won’t miss your celebration dinner. I’m thrilled for you.”
“Thank you, miláčku.” He bent and dropped a brief kiss on the top of her head. No more than that. But it made her weaken and sigh. “I’ll see you later.”
He strode out of the hall, exchanged a short but intense unfriendly look with von Ritter, and went on his way.
Von Ritter ended his chat with Sarah and made a beeline for Lydia.
“What did she want?” asked Lydia, glaring over at the harpist’s back.
“Don’t be too hard on her,” cautioned von Ritter. “She wants to resign, but I am trying to convince her to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a good harpist, Lydia. Why else?”
“I can think of a few reasons.”
A flashback to the night they’d spent in the BDSM club interrupted Lydia’s thoughts. How von Ritter had thought nothing of letting Sarah give him a blow job while Lydia had looked on.
“There is nothing between us.”
“But she’s your best friend’s girl. Did she used to be yours?”
“Look, let’s take this to the coffee shop, yes? I don’t want to talk about it here.”
“Fine.”
It was still warm enough to sit at the pavement tables, so von Ritter and Lydia took their Frappuccinos outside and watched London life pass them by in the late-afternoon sunshine.
“You are still sulking about what happened in the club?” opened von Ritter, his tone that curious mix of stern and seductive that had originally captivated her.
“I’m not sulking about anything.”
“Then let’s put it behind us and continue where we ended.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Come on, Lydia.” Von Ritter stirred his drink, fixing her with a quizzical gaze. “I like you, you like me. We enjoy the same things. We are compatible. I made one mistake. Don’t let that kill what we had.”
“But what did we have, Karl-Heinz? I really don’t know.”
“Well.” He sat back and began enumerating on his fingers. “I’ll tell you what you had. A steady, dependable, caring man who was able to satisfy your physical, material and intellectual needs. A man who could be there for you.”
The ‘unlike some I could mention’ was unspoken but heavily implied.
“Interesting that you don’t mention my emotional needs,” said Lydia.
“Liebchen, just because I don’t act like Milan Kaspar it doesn’t mean I have no passion. I do have passion. I express it…differently.”
“Yeah. You certainly do.”
“That sounded a little cheeky.”
He leant forward and Lydia felt a twist of the old secret thrill. She squirmed on her seat in reminiscence.
“Did you know about Sarah and Hackmeyer?” she asked.
“What about them? Of course I knew they had been lovers.”
“Did you know they were trying to sabotage Milan’s performance?”
He shook his head.
“Do you think I would knowingly take part in ruining my own concert? Lydia, you know me better than that. My reputation as a conductor is everything to me. Both Sarah and Julius deserve a good thrashing for their behaviour.”
Lydia giggled. “I wouldn’t mind watching that.” She grew serious again. “But why is there such bad blood between Hackmeyer and Milan?”
“I’ve told you. There was an incident when they studied together in Paris. They had been friendly rivals until it happened, and then they became enemies.”
“Something to do with a girl?”
“Of course, something to do with a girl. Isn’t it always, with Milan?”
“No, sometimes it’s to do with a boy.”
“Well, that’s true as well. But I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about us. Come back home with me, Lydia. Come back and let me do all the things we did together to you.”
“What about the things we didn’t do?”
Von Ritter sighed. “You mean the things we didn’t do yet?”
“In all our time together we never once…” She trailed off, aware of the open position of their table and nearness of the passers-by.
“I was working up to it.” Von Ritter bent his head very close. “I was close.”
“I do like you. I like you a lot. I always enjoyed what we did together.”
“But?”
Lydia sat up, moving her head, which had nearly been touching his, away from him. “No, there’s no but. Just that.”
“So…you will come back to me?”
“Not tonight. I’ve got dinner plans. But maybe.”
“Dinner plans?”
“I’m meeting Milan. We’re celebrating his new career.”
Von Ritter turned his face away, his lips pinched.
“It’s just dinner. But maybe it’ll be more. I don’t know yet. I don’t know what or who I want, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”
Von Ritter sniffed. “Go on.”
She held his eyes. “I intend to have a damn good time finding out. I’ve done angst. I’ve done misery. I’ve done broken-hearted. I think it’s about time I did fun. Don’t you?”
Von Ritter’s lips curved upward. He shrugged. “I guess. Though I thought we did…”
“Yes, we had fun. We still can. But I’m not giving my heart to anyone until I’m sure of them. My body…that’s a different matter. I might end up with you. I might end up with Milan. I might end up with someone else completely. It probably sounds crazy coming from a violinist, but this autumn is all about no strings.”
Chapter Three
When Lydia walked into the Oxo Tower Bar, she looked around for a group, but the only representative of the Westminster Symphony Orchestra was Milan himself, sitting in one of the cream bucket chairs, gazing out over the London skyline.
She was heartened to notice, judging from the bottle standing beside it, that his glass contained sparkling water, and she took a seat opposite him, admiring his heart-stopping gorgeousness in the new dark suit he wore.
“I thought there’d be a gang of us,” she remarked, feeling self-conscious as ever about the dress she had worn. Was it not smart enough? Too frumpy? It could almost be office wear—a fitted sheath in dove-grey flannel, though she had dressed it up with her best jewellery. Lydia had always lacked f
ashion confidence, though, and tended to play it safe. For that brief and heady period when Milan had been her personal shopper, she had looked chic and amazing every day. She missed those times.
“I’m throwing a party at the weekend,” he said. “Tonight I just wanted you.”
He spoke the words with such intensity that she almost grabbed hold of his hand and suggested they leave then and there.
“I’m genuinely happy for you,” she said. “About the solo career. I’ve always thought you could make it. Our Prague Paganini.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Like him, I am considered a devil in some quarters.”
“That’s because you are a bloody devil, and you know it.”
He laughed and raked long fingers through his hair.
“I do,” he agreed. “You want a drink?”
Once they got their drinks they moved outside to the restaurant deck and sat beneath the stars, looking across the river to the illuminated dome of St Paul’s.
“Listen,” he said, once they had ordered food. “I’m sorry about your holiday. I didn’t mean to spoil it. Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I get so fixed on it, you know. I forget to think.”
“That’s your problem in a nutshell, Milan. You forget to think. And my problem is the opposite. I overthink.”
“Then we should fit together, no? Yin and Yang. Opposites attract.”
“Is it that simple?”
“Attraction. Love. We have them, don’t we?”
Lydia swallowed. The mood had gone from light and sweet to serious very suddenly. She nodded.
“I love you, Lydia, and I want to be with you. That is simple. And it’s true.”
She felt his spell seeping into her pores, impossible to block or repel. His eyes compelled her and something about his movement, his scent, his very being just filled her with longing for him.
I love him so much. The words flowed through her, drowning out any ifs or buts until every note of caution lay buried. I want him more than anything.
“You seem so much better,” she whispered.
“Yes, yes. Everything is good now. All that old bitterness and sadness…well, some things still make me sad, it’s natural, but I look at how I’ve acted sometimes and I am shocked at myself. That poor woman, that Mary-Ann. I was a monster.”
Lydia nodded, grimacing.
“That was the old Milan. He is gone. The new Milan is different. He is honest, he has respect for others, he is loving and kind. Probably still a little bit selfish and egocentric, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Lydia laughed, then caught herself, biting her lip. Oh God, if only this could be true. If only this wasn’t just lip service intended to get her into bed. Had he really changed in all the ways she had hoped and dreamed he would?
They had mineral water with their meal, over which she and Milan talked long and in depth about all the things that had gone wrong in the past. They laughed, then tears came to their eyes as they remembered Evgeny and the tragedy of his death.
“I should go to visit his grave,” said Milan soberly. “I didn’t go to his funeral and I will always feel guilt for that.”
“You were grieving for your mother,” said Lydia gently, laying a hand on his.
“I know, but…”
“And you had that reunion, even though it was so horribly brief. You have to remember that. You made your peace with her.”
“I know,” said Milan after a long pause.
“You’ve had a mad rollercoaster of a year. It’s time the ups outnumbered the downs.”
“It’s… I don’t follow…” He frowned with incomprehension.
“It’s time you had some good luck. You’ve had too much of the bad.”
“Well, I’ve had mixed luck. Because I met you, didn’t I? And that’s the best luck of all.”
“You charmer.”
“Is it working yet?” Milan looked at his watch. “I was hoping to have you in bed by eleven.”
She gave his ankle a sharp kick.
“Don’t. Don’t be flippant. I’ve really enjoyed your company tonight. I really thought you were a good person after all.”
“I am a good person,” he said, holding up his hands. “Good at all kinds of things.” And now his voice was low and pulling her towards him.
Damn him!
“Good at being bad,” she said, pushing her plate away and feeling her cheeks burst into flame.
“You know it. Come to me, miláčku. My arms are so empty without you. My lips are so cold when they can’t kiss you. I can’t be happy without you.”
“Oh, you and your bloody Bohemian sweet-talk…do you mean it, Milan? Are you serious?”
“I want you.”
“Look.” Lydia was breathing fast now, her heart painful. “I’m going to tell you what I told Karl-Heinz earlier on.”
“Von Ritter? You went home with him?” Milan’s perfect lips sculpted themselves into a pout.
“No - just coffee. Don’t look at me like that. I told him that I was through with suffering and heartbreak. I’ve had as much of that as I can take in one year. I need a little me-time.”
“I thought that was your holiday.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t mean I’m taking a break from men and sex. I’m going to have both of those. Just on my terms and when I want to.” Lydia sat up straight, daring him to challenge her.
“Well, that’s good. Come home with me then.”
“If I do, Milan, it doesn’t mean I’m with you permanently. It doesn’t mean I’ve chosen you above von Ritter. It means I’m still making my decision.”
Milan, who had been about to stand, took his hands from the table ledge and swooped back down towards her.
“You mean…you will see other people?”
“Yes. That’s not a problem, is it? You were never the jealous type.”
“No, I am not,” he said thoughtfully. “But I think he is.”
“Karl-Heinz? Well, if so, then he’s out. I’m not ready to commit, Milan. I’m too young and too hurt. But I am ready to enjoy myself.”
“So why are we still sitting here?”
He stood properly this time and waved at a waiter, who quickly furnished them with the bill.
Outside, the South Bank buzzed with people pouring out of the theatres and concert halls.
“I haven’t played the Royal Festival Hall yet,” commented Lydia.
“Oh, you will, don’t worry. Hey, are you going to apply for leader?”
“Of the orchestra?” Lydia snorted. “Don’t be daft. I’ve only been a member for five minutes.”
“No, don’t underestimate yourself,” said Milan, giving her a serious look. “You might be young and new, but you are an excellent musician. And the others like you.”
“Not sure they’d like having a pipsqueak like me for leader, though.”
“Well, they can be managed.”
“I’m not you, Milan.”
“Thank God.”
They stopped near the approach to Blackfriars Bridge. Milan manoeuvred Lydia so that her back was to the wall and cupped her face in his hands, stroking down her cheekbones with his thumbs.
“If you were me,” he said, burning into her with his gaze, “I wouldn’t want to kiss you.”
“Yes, you would,” she said pertly.
His intense expression lightened and he laughed, having the grace to blush slightly.
“Well, maybe I would. I’m a good-looking guy, right? But not as much as I want to kiss you right now. God, I want to kiss you right now, until the breath runs out of your body.”
“Go on then,” she whispered.
As soon as his teeth alighted on her lower lip, nibbling and sucking it with slow skill, she felt her first misgiving.
She had promised herself fun, but could it ever be no-strings with Milan? Already, she was falling headlong into that tumult of emotion and sensation that had delighted her body and tormented her mind since the first day they had met.
His breath was warm and rich, still slightly sweet from the panna cotta he had eaten for dessert, but the scent of him underneath it was sublime, making her giddy and incapable of resistance. He was danger incarnate, but she could never quite run away in time.
She caught his lips in hers and made him kiss her properly. The rush of people around them and traffic on the bridge above them grew dim and distant while their lips and tongues worked. Part caress, part duel, the embrace grew wilder until their pelvises were grinding together.
Lydia pulled at Milan’s hair and he growled into her throat. He pressed his knee between her thighs and she lifted one bent leg up to his hip in response.
God, they were practically doing it in the street. Milan had plunged a hand in her cleavage and she couldn’t even begin to stop him.
He pushed her harder into the wall, trying to signal his dominance, but she gave as good as she got, jerking into him, grasping great handfuls of his arms and back. Their teeth clashed and they bit on each other’s lips.
Somebody shouted, “Get a room!” and Milan broke the kiss, laughing.
“Not such a bad idea,” he panted. “Come on.”
They ran hand-in-hand over Blackfriars Bridge, but it took longer than it should have done to walk to the Barbican, because they kept stopping to devour little pieces of each other in the still-warm night.
By the time they arrived in Milan’s apartment, Lydia was hot and damp with perspiration, her lipstick kissed off, one shoulder strap fallen, her impeccable hair mussed and unkempt. Not only that, but her nipples were hard and her knickers uncomfortably wet.
As soon as the door was shut, Milan held her against him, finished off the last traces of the lipstick and pushed both shoulder straps down her arms, exposing her bra to the attentions of his fingers.
“Missed you so much,” he gasped in between kisses. “Think about you every day. Every night. Especially at night.”
He buried his face between her breasts, kissing the slopes, licking along the lacy edge of the bra cups.
Lydia looked hazily down at his hair, the hair she had always loved, swinging over his brow and falling onto her skin, golden brown against her pallor. She watched the ends of it flick and twitch around her twin mounds then put back her head and fell into the feeling.
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