Return of the Untamed Billionaire

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I remember these being taken,’ Anya said as she took down two photos. ‘Sergio brought in his camera that day.’

  One image was of Daniil and Roman in boxing shorts, holding their hands up in a fighting pose.

  Roman was scowling in the photo and today it made Anya smile. ‘You just wanted to get the picture over and done with.’

  ‘I did,’ Roman said. ‘But I am glad now that he took it.’

  ‘Why did you give them to Daniil?’

  ‘I didn’t give them to him. I put them into his case. I thought it might help him if he had some photos from home.’

  ‘But that left you with none,’ Anya said, and she looked at the other photo. It was of the four boys, now men, and today they were finally together again.

  ‘We’re going back to Nikolai’s yacht after the party.’ Roman told her what had been arranged. ‘We’re going to catch up on all that has gone on.’

  ‘You’re not looking forward to it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll tell you afterwards how it goes.’

  ‘I shan’t be here, Roman. I’m flying back to Paris this afternoon.’

  ‘Anya, you know that we need to talk,’ he said.

  This week he had come to the realisation that they did. He could not be apart from her again. They were back in each other’s lives.

  It was Anya who resisted that now.

  ‘No, we will fight.’

  ‘So.’ Roman shrugged. ‘We know where our fights lead.’

  Anya smiled but it changed midway and she shook her head.

  ‘I don’t want to know about your wife, Roman. I’m simply not ready to hear about it and I don’t know if I ever shall be. I can’t bear to hear about your life so I’m going back tonight and I meant what I said, I don’t want to see you in Paris.’

  ‘That’s a lie.’

  ‘In part,’ Anya admitted. ‘But it’s also the truth.’

  But Roman was having none of it. ‘I have to catch up with the others but later tonight I’ll have my assistant charter a plane...’

  ‘See!’ Anya said. ‘Who are you? A man who gives platinum crosses with diamonds, a man who charters planes?’

  ‘I will tell you.’

  ‘But I can’t stand to hear it,’ she said.

  ‘Wait for me?’ he asked again, but she shook her head.

  ‘I waited so long for you, Roman. No more.’

  And then she forced herself to ask the question that she dreaded hearing the answer to.

  She knew Roman. He would not stay five minutes with a person he did not like.

  He had spent years with Celeste.

  ‘Did you have feelings for her?’

  Roman looked right into her eyes and he knew that to lie now would end them forever, but he was careful with his response. ‘Not the same feelings that I have for you.’

  ‘Had,’ Anya corrected. ‘Or you would not have stayed away.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Did you love her?’ she demanded, for he had never told her that he loved her.

  He gave her the absolute truth. ‘There was a kind of love that grew.’

  No!

  She would never be ready to hear about it.

  And she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth about babies either.

  Their dreams had already been killed.

  And so Anya walked off.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ROMAN SAT IN the sky lounge of Nikolai’s yacht and tried to comprehend the fact that they were together again and in such splendid surroundings.

  The yacht had been docked in the Thames for two weeks and was an attraction in itself, but no one asked to be shown around and neither did Nikolai offer.

  This time together was precious.

  They had been apart for the best part of two decades and there was a lot to discuss in a short space of time. Out came the vodka, which was infused with ginger, and both Roman and Daniil pulled a face at the taste.

  ‘Here.’ Nikolai handed him a plain bottle and Roman poured two glasses, one for himself and the other for his twin.

  ‘Here you go, shishka,’ Roman said as he slid the glass over to Daniil, who shot him a black look at the use of his old nickname.

  There was tension between them.

  It was interesting, though, to catch up. Nikolai had always known where his life would lead—the ocean.

  He had not started out in such splendour, Roman found out as they drank too much and caught up—he found out that Nikolai had at first been a stowaway on a ship.

  ‘Anything was better than being there,’ Nikolai said.

  Roman nodded. He had heard back then that Nikolai had been sexually abused by a teacher and that was why he had run away.

  When he’d been young, Roman remembered Nikolai building a ship out of matchsticks and he had taken it with him when he’d left. It had been found by the river.

  Sev had kept it and now returned it.

  ‘This took so long to make.’ Nikolai put it down on the table and was touched that his friend had kept it all these years and had had it couriered from New York to give to him today.

  ‘It’s good you got out,’ Roman said, and looked around the sky lounge. ‘This would be a great place to party.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Daniil asked Nikolai.

  ‘Any one?’ Nikolai checked, and then swiftly turned the conversation to Sev. Roman noticed the quick change of subject.

  ‘When do you go back to New York?’ Nikolai asked.

  ‘We are flying back tonight,’ Sev said. ‘Daniil and Libby are coming over in late December to see in the New Year there. You two should come too.’

  Daniil saw Roman’s slight eye roll.

  New York and happy families and more catching up he could do without for now.

  His mind wandered to Anya and he was ready now to sort things out. Since seeing her again this morning he was resolute. Yes, she was doing well and at the top of her game yet there was a vulnerability in her that only he knew about.

  Somehow they needed to talk and to get through those impossible conversations.

  Now, though, he listened. Sev, as they had always known he would, had done well. He was brilliant and was now an expert in internet security. He had been the one who always had his head in books and yet he had also, in his own way, been the one who’d stepped up when things had got out of hand.

  And they were starting to now.

  Roman listened to his twin.

  The family that had adopted him had proved to be awful. ‘They realised their mistake by the time I arrived, I think,’ Daniil explained. ‘I was never going to replace their son.’

  Roman found out how hard he had worked to get where he was, first in a bar of a hotel that was running into troubled times. He had found that he had an eye for numbers, Daniil explained, and in helping them out in return for shares had started to build his financial empire.

  Roman sat silent. There were so many similarities between them and so many differences too, from having been separated.

  ‘What about you, Roman?’ Sev asked, a lot of vodka later.

  ‘I left the orphanage at sixteen.’ He shrugged. ‘I gave boxing a go...’ He looked at his brother. ‘Sergio didn’t know what he was talking about. I lost most fights, and I only won a few. With my winnings I got a passport and left and went to France and joined the foreign legion...’ Roman did not speak of being in the secure unit of the orphanage, or the hellhole of the bedsit, and he left out the solace he had found with Anya. He could see a muscle leaping in Daniil’s cheek as he spoke with brevity about the past, when the rest of the men had revealed so much more. ‘I served for ten years, then I mov
ed to Paris. And here I am.’

  ‘Aren’t you missing something out?’ Daniil said. ‘Aren’t you going to tell us about your wife?’

  Roman stared coolly at his brother and then addressed the group. ‘I was married but last year Celeste died.’

  Sev and Nikolai offered their condolences but Roman just responded with a brief nod. He did not know if he was worthy of them; it had not been a conventional marriage after all.

  But Daniil had more to offer than sympathy. ‘You came out and got married and got on with your life...’ The tension that had been building since Libby had called out and he had seen his twin had Daniil rising to his feet. Roman stood and faced him as Daniil vented some of the anger he felt. ‘I could have been at your wedding and there at the funeral. Instead I never even got to meet her.’ Daniil was trying not to shout.

  ‘It wasn’t a marriage like you and Libby have. As Anya said, for you all to hear—I answered an advert.’

  ‘How did Anya know?’

  Roman shrugged and that incensed Daniil.

  ‘I don’t care if you answered an ad, Roman. Celeste meant something to you, for there is no way you would share your personal space with anyone who wasn’t special.’ He knew how dark his brother was, how deep he went, and that he had been through all this and not contacted him was infuriating.

  ‘Daniil.’ Roman was his detached best. ‘You only recently changed your name...’

  ‘Perhaps but you didn’t even try to find me before then. Don’t pretend now that you looked.’

  ‘I didn’t look.’ Roman shrugged and then caught Daniil’s fist as it was aimed at him.

  ‘Do you want me to give you matching cheeks?’ Roman warned.

  ‘Enough,’ Sev said—he was always the one who had stepped in when things escalated.

  Both men agreed.

  Enough anger for now.

  ‘I just want to know all that has happened,’ Daniil said, and they shared a brief embrace, though it was more like a boxing clinch.

  ‘One day, perhaps,’ Roman answered, borrowing the words Anya had used when they had stumbled on Daniil’s gym.

  He wanted to tell them more but the conversation about his marriage belonged first with Anya.

  So, for now they sat and exchanged phone numbers and Daniil forwarded the ones he now had to Roman.

  Within them was Anya’s number.

  They briefly met each other’s eyes.

  Daniil knew there was something going on between Roman and Anya.

  With twins who had once been so close, there were times when no words were needed and they shared a smile so subtle that, even if they had been looking, the others would have missed it.

  It was time to go. They were all a bit worse for wear and Nikolai saw them off his yacht and they stepped out into the night.

  They all shook hands and then Sev headed off to return to his honeymoon and that left just Roman and Daniil standing on the quay.

  Roman saw a certain redhead—Rachel—sitting on a seat, and knew now the reason for Nikolai’s evasive answer about women, but he did not let on to Daniil.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ Daniil asked.

  Roman told him the name of the hotel he had checked into.

  ‘Come and stay with us.’

  Roman shook his head. They were nowhere near ready for that. ‘You have a new baby.’

  ‘She’s your niece. I don’t want you in a hotel when I have a home.’

  ‘No, I want to go back to my own apartment. I don’t really know why,’ Roman admitted. He wasn’t being rude in not accepting the invitation and he tried to let his brother know that. ‘I am just sick of the hotel, even though it is very nice. I just want...’ He couldn’t really explain that he wanted to be amongst his own things and to sleep in his own bed. ‘The hotel has everything...’ It was luxurious indeed. ‘I would just like to be amongst my own things.’

  ‘You’re homesick,’ Daniil said.

  There was a word for those feelings, Roman found out.

  He was homesick not just for his home but for Paris, because Anya was there.

  They said good night and as Roman walked off he took out his phone.

  He called his assistant to arrange his flight and headed straight for the airport. As he sat on the tarmac, staring out at the navy London sky, he took out his phone and called Anya.

  She picked up her phone without thinking. She had assumed it was Mika to see if she was ready, or one of the others, as they had agreed to meet in the foyer and she was running a little bit late.

  She almost dropped the phone when she realised it was Roman.

  ‘How did you get my number?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Where are you?’

  ‘We’re just about to head out for supper.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘It is not your business,’ Anya coolly answered.

  ‘Pack up your things. I’ll be there in the next couple of hours...’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard.’ And now he used Daniil’s line. ‘You’re not staying in a hotel when I have a home...’

  The difference with Anya was they were ready for that.

  Roman was sure.

  They were ready to explore the past together and see where that left them.

  ‘You wouldn’t have said that last time I was here,’ Anya retorted. ‘You were too busy being a mail-order—’

  ‘Anya,’ Roman broke in. ‘We shall speak about Celeste when you can manage to say her name without venom.’

  ‘Never,’ Anya said.

  ‘Then we shall speak about why I left.’

  ‘You left because you could not stand to see me succeed.’ That was how she had justified it in the end, but she could almost see the flick of his wrist as he dismissed the thoughts that she had built like a scaffold to protect her bruised heart.

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘Were you so intimidated—?’

  ‘You don’t intimidate me,’ he broke in.

  That alone almost brought her to tears. Everyone else was intimidated by her, everyone thought her cold and unfeeling. Roman, though, saw through it. He knew the heart behind the ice. He had known her passion and her hopes and fears.

  ‘I would have loved to have been beside you when you soared,’ Roman said.

  He wanted to be by her side now; he felt ready to be and would do whatever it took.

  ‘No!’ Anya shook her head. ‘You wanted to make your riches and refused to be poor with me.’

  It had been such a poor life.

  People assumed wealth yet dancers danced for the love of it. She had been cocooned and enclosed in a world where few made any real money. For Anya that had only happened in recent years. She was no prodigy, she had had to fight and to work harder and smarter to get to where she was. Only now had she paid off the debts she had accumulated. Before that she had lived in a tiny flat that she’d shared with her mother—her climb to the top had been rough indeed.

  Now she would spend the next decade, or however long her body gave her, securing her future for when dancing was gone.

  Right now she had a performance that she needed to focus on, but Roman had other ideas.

  ‘Pack your case, then text me the name of your hotel.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I mean it, Anya. I shall tear up Paris tonight to find you.’

  ‘Good luck with the gendarmes, then. Don’t call me again, Roman.’

  She ended the call and turned her phone off.

  Then she thought about turning it on to delete his number but knew she could not bear to do that.

  There was temptation in her bag, all the way through a late supper with the sponsors. Not just the chocolate cups but Roman’s n
umber on her phone.

  All she could think of was him and his call to take her to his home.

  And she thought about the last time they had shared a bed.

  Or rather a mattress.

  She thought about their first time and the eventual love that they had made.

  He had been so cold and oblivious to the pleasure of touch at first.

  So wanting to get things over and done with.

  And then they had stumbled into intense pleasure and had made memories that nothing could ever erase.

  As the jet carried him closer to Anya, Roman stared out of the window...and remembered the same.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANYA CAME OUT of the stage door and into the side alley and was ready to run home, not just to get out of the freezing snow but also because she had news for her mother. She had just been told that she would be auditioning in two weeks’ time for a part in the corps de ballet for the next performance.

  It was the step up from apprenticeship and she had worked so hard for it.

  And then she saw him.

  Roman Zverev.

  She had not seen him since he had left the orphanage a couple of years ago but she had heard about him.

  He was wearing torn black jeans and a thin jacket and his black hair was long and damp as it gathered snow. He was walking towards her.

  ‘You lost your fight,’ Anya said by way of greeting, and looked at his bruised eye and cheek and swollen mouth.

  ‘Good news travels fast.’

  He looked at Anya. She had always been perfection to him, so delicate and yet so strong. The only thing he had missed about the orphanage was her and now her pale green eyes met his, but this time without the scold of her mother to haul them from his gaze.

  The years since Daniil had left had been hell and she had been the only balm.

  Sergio had continued to attempt to channel his anger into boxing but it was as if the desire in Roman to be a boxer had left with his twin and he had won only a handful of fights.

  Last night he had lost to a brute who had been a lot bigger than him.

  ‘You were in the wrong weight category,’ Anya said. ‘You need to lose weight before weigh-in—your opponent would have. You could have scraped in as a mid-lightweight. Instead you faced a man who just scraped into middleweight.’