‘She has. I told you the other evening but I didn’t think you were listening.’
‘That’s because you always distract me, angel moy’ ‘Well, she says to thank you and that they’ve asked to see some more of her designs.’ She smiled. ‘So I take it you won’t mind if I model one of them tonight? ‘
For a moment he didn’t answer as he pulled a silk tie from the drawer. Actually, yes, he did mind—and it had nothing to do with her modelling her friend’s clothes. It was Zara’s general resistance to letting him pay which was irritating the hell out of him. Yes, he admired her independence, but hadn’t she made her point by now?
He’d got the message that she wasn’t with him for his money—but she was taking pride onto a whole new level. Why, even on her birthday last week, when he’d twisted her arm and taken her to a fancy jeweller’s, she had shunned the gleaming pearl necklace he’d offered to buy her, and opted for a new watch instead. Even that had been less than satisfactory. He’d never known a woman refuse an exquisite diamond-studded gold watch strap and opt for a plain leather band on the grounds that it was more practical. But Zara had.
‘I don’t see why you insist on being so stubborn.’
‘Don’t you? Think about it, darling—you’re an intelligent man!’ She gave him a soft smile. ‘Don’t you think we should try and keep the balance of power between us as equal as possible? It isn’t always easy, but I’m doing my best.’
He felt wrong-footed—infuriatingly so—even though he understood her reasoning perfectly. But Nikolai was hard-wired to control and to dominate—and Zara’s refusal to let him call all the shots was robbing him of that dominance. Did she imagine that stubborn pride would win his heart? he wondered grimly. Surely she could not be that naïve?
‘As you wish,’ he said coolly, bending to give her only the briefest of kisses. ‘I’ll see you later.’
But his cool reaction left Zara with a slightly unsettled feeling—even when she made it to Emma’s studio and discovered that her friend was delighted to lend her a scarlet silk dress which would be perfect for the event.
‘How’s life with lover-boy?’ Emma questioned curiously. ‘Mum says you always dash off as soon as your shift’s over and never stay behind for a drink. Can’t wait to get back to him, I suppose? Not that I blame you, of course. If I had a man like Nikolai waiting at home, I don’t think I’d ever set foot outside the house.’
Zara frowned as she considered her friend’s words. Had she been neglecting her work friends because of her obsession with her Russian lover? Maybe she should join them all for a drink next week. ‘It’s…it’s wonderful.’
‘Is it really?’ asked Emma sagely. ‘Is that why you’re starting to get frown lines on your brow or why I’m having to take in this dress at the waist?’
Zara stared into the unforgiving mirror, taken aback by faint shadows beneath her cheekbones and the loose fabric which was bunched in Emma’s hand. Had she lost weight? Probably. But didn’t all women lose weight when they began a love affair?
Her friend’s words still mocked her as she took the dress and shoes back to Nikolai’s Kensington mansion and began to get ready for dinner. But her heart was heavy as she pulled on silk stockings after her shower—as if she had suddenly become aware of the things missing from her life. Maybe it was time she confronted the truth instead of dodging it. Started seeing things as they really were and not how
she wanted them to be. And this…relationship between them seemed to be going nowhere, did it?
Because despite his warnings that he didn’t want marriage or babies or that he didn’t ‘do’ love, that hadn’t stopped Zara hoping that he might change his mind, had it? Hoping that Nikolai might start to feel something deeper for her, too. Because that was what women did. They hoped and they dreamed, no matter how much the odds were stacked against them.
She pushed her troubled thoughts aside as the car took them to the dinner. The red silk dress fitted like a dream and Zara was grateful she’d worn it because Nikolai had been right: it was certainly a very grand occasion. She was seated on the opposite side of the table, several feet away from her lover, and she found herself watching him almost objectively as he made the senator’s wife roar with laughter. She realised that he had an abundance of charm he could use when it suited him—and it suited him to do so tonight.
She saw the way that people hung onto his every word—men and women, but especially women. She heard the rather sycophantic way they laughed at his jokes, while her own conversation to her neighbours was greeted with polite indifference. Didn’t matter how engaging or witty she was, nobody was interested in her. She was just Nikolai’s accessory—his current bed partner with no status and only a limited shelf-life.
And suddenly the reality of her watered-down existence hit home as she tried to imagine what was going to happen to them, as a couple. Only this time her vision wasn’t clouded by wishful thinking as she recognised that it would just be more of the same—the intensity of their relationship gradually diminishing as initial passion burnt itself out.
She remembered when he’d made love to her in the south of France—how she’d felt like one of his puppets—well, what had changed? Absolutely nothing. This wasn’t really living, she realised—it was pretending. It was closing her eyes to what lay ahead of her.
She had carried on waitressing because the undemanding work suited her current lifestyle—conveniently ignoring the fact that before she’d met him she had been thinking of doing something else with her life. He had laid down his rules and she had eagerly agreed to abide by them because she was in love with him. Had she perhaps thought that her love plus a little independence might be enough to make him soften his stance a little? Even though he’d explicitly warned her not to, hadn’t she hoped that he might change his mind about marriage, and children? Well, she had been wrong—and unless she had the courage to try to change things, then her frustration would grow and grow.
Questions she’d never dared ask him began to bubble up inside her as they made their way home but she waited until they were in his vast bedroom. Waited until he had made love to her and they lay, sleepy and sated against the rumpled bedding, with the glowing lamps throwing pools of pale amber light onto the polished floor.
She turned onto her stomach and lay her head on his chest.
‘Nikolai?’
‘Mmm?’ He picked up a strand of her silky hair and wound it around his finger.
‘Can I ask you something?’
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Now why does that kind of question always make my heart sink?’
She heard the unmistakable warning contained in his careless response but Zara had spent hours plucking up the courage to do this. She needed to do this. Gently, she stroked the side of his face. ‘Did you ever find out what your mother’s life had been like in England? Did you…did you ever go to Oxfordshire to try to discover more about what had happened to her?’
Nikolai stiffened, aware of the sudden race of his heart. ‘What’s brought this up all of a sudden? ‘
‘Does it matter?’