‘Actually, it does. It matters that you’ve seen fit to spoil a perfectly good evening by dragging up something which is none of your business.’
Zara bit her lip as she heard the abrasiveness in his voice. ‘Can’t I ask a question without you flying off the handle?’
‘But your very question implies that I’ve been neglectful in some way!’ he declared. ‘What do you think I should have done? Turned up on her doorstep and said, “Look, I know you left years ago and broke all your promises to me—but I’m longing to meet the man who made you turn your back on your only child.”’ His mouth curved with contempt. ‘Is that what you think, Zara?’
Much of it was hidden behind a blaze of anger, but the pain in his eyes was very real and Zara knew that she couldn’t let up—not now. ‘Nothing’s ever as black and white as it sometimes seems,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t know what your mother had to face when she came over here.’
‘What’s this, a spirited defence of women in general, or her in particular—a woman you never even met but now see fit to judge?’
‘It’s neither!’ she said, recoiling from the icy fury in his eyes and feeling tentative hope wither inside her. ‘It’s the realisation that I’ve suddenly come to my senses—and I can’t be involved with someone who doesn’t allow himself to feel anything! Who pushes uncomfortable topics away rather than confront them.’
‘But I told you what I was like at the beginning, Zara.’
‘I know you did. I know.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘And I thought that I could accept it. But I was wrong, Nikolai. I can’t.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘So is this leading to some kind of ultimatum you’ve been cooking up? You threaten to leave me and hope that the diamond ring and promise of commitment comes swinging your way? As a strategy, I have to tell you that it’s been used before—but it never works.’
There was a moment of stunned silence while she stared at him, realising that her fierce determination to remain as independent as possible had gone unnoticed. Nikolai had never really revised his opinion of her, had he? To him, all women were deceitful gold-diggers and nothing was ever going to rid him of that notion.
‘My God,’ she breathed. ‘You’re even more cold-hearted than I thought. You think that I’d actively choose to share my life with a man who is so sparing with his affection? Are you labouring under the illusion that your wealth somehow makes up for your emotional deficiencies? Well, in that case—you don’t have a clue! And maybe I’d better leave you to your suspicious little world, Nikolai—because I’m finding the atmosphere in it too stifling to stay!’
Her heart hammering, she leapt from the bed and began scrabbling around to find some clothes, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater which she kept in a couple of the drawers she’d been allocated.
Nikolai didn’t move, just lay in bed—watching her—like some brooding golden statue.
‘Where do you think you’re going? ‘
She pulled out her small bag from the bottom of the wardrobe and hurled a handful of knickers inside it. ‘Home!’
‘Not in the middle of the night, you’re not.’
‘This is London. It’s a twenty-four-hour city! And we do have cabs!’
‘I think you’re completely overreacting but if you’re hell bent on this ridiculous display of hysteria, then you will take my car,’ he bit out furiously.
‘I will not!’ she flared back, bitterly aware that he wasn’t doing anything to stop her. ‘And I am not overreacting! Can you please have the rest of my things sent round in the morning?’
‘With pleasure!’ he grated, his eyes blazing at hers in icy challenge—as if daring her to go through with it. And to his astonishment and fury, he saw her pick up her bag and turn her back on him!
Zara ran from the room and down the sweeping staircase—but it took her so long to undo the triple-locked front door that by the time she’d opened it, Nikolai’s driver was standing outside waiting for her. She thought for a moment about brushing past him and telling him that she could make her own way home, thank you very much. But the realisation that it was late made common sense override her pride as she climbed into the back of the luxurious car. She glanced up at the house to see Nikolai’s bedroom light snapping off, so that the house lay in darkness—and she felt a gr
eat tide of rage swelling up inside her. He had actually gone back to sleep! Cold-hearted, unfeeling robot of a man!
But once her anger had died down, regret began to rush in to replace it. Wasn’t it strange that, having made her escape, she now began to wonder if she’d been too hasty? Why, if she’d kept her stupid mouth shut, she could have been tucked up beside him in bed and by the morning the whole thing would have been forgotten.
Except that it wouldn’t be, would it? Not really. All she would have done would have been to bury the problem a little deeper—but it wasn’t going to go away unless one of them addressed it. And it certainly wasn’t going to be him—because Nikolai didn’t see it as a problem. He had no desire to seek out the answer to questions from his past and couldn’t see how much that was impacting on the present.
The driver dropped her off at her little house and after she’d made herself some herb tea, Zara went upstairs to bed. But she was much too restless to sleep—even if the sound of traffic and drinkers heading home from the pub hadn’t made such a racket. It seemed ages since she’d stayed in this tiny bedroom of hers and she thought how quickly she had adapted to her wealthy lover’s quiet and privileged lifestyle.
Well, it was better to be free of it now. Yes, it would hurt—but not nearly so much as if she kept postponing it. What if she’d spent months as his mistress? Years, even? And then one day he’d turned round to her and told her that he’d found a replacement? Because that was what rich men did, wasn’t it? She remembered Sergei with his laughably young partner and, restlessly, she turned her pillow over to lay her heated cheek against it.
Next morning she went out into the garden and could have wept at the sad neglect of her godmother’s little vegetable patch. Tomato plants had toppled from their canes and broad beans were covered thickly in black-fly. All that time and work and care which had been poured into cultivating the small London garden now lay wasted and Zara felt ashamed. Why, she hadn’t so much as picked up a fork or a spade for weeks. It was if she hadn’t been able to wait to shrug off her old life and embrace the new one.
Coming from inside the kitchen, she heard the sound of her cell-phone ringing and when she went to answer it she saw the name Nikolai flashing on the screen. And even though an inner voice urged her to ignore it—wasn’t it telling that she paid it no attention? Because wasn’t she longing to speak to him—secretly praying that the stupid row could be resolved?
‘Hello, Nikolai.’
‘So have you calmed down this morning? ‘