Playing the Dutiful WifeExpecting His Love-Child

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I know that,’ he roared. ‘Despite what everyone says, I know that—because I think you’re too dizzy to even come up with it…because you just don’t think, do you? You meet a stranger, forget your pill…’

  ‘It takes two…’ Millie shivered.

  ‘One night, trajat’sya, of sex, and now we pay the price—now we do as countless other couples have done when their one night of lust comes back to haunt them.’

  ‘Haunt them!’ Millie gasped. ‘Levander. How could you say such a thing…?’

  ‘How could I not?’ Levander barked. ‘What did you think would happen here? Did you expect me to start crying? To take you in my arms and say this is the best news I could imagine?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Unwanted tears welled in her eyes. His choice of words was so appalling, she simply couldn’t help herself—the fact that he saw this baby like some dark ghost coming to haunt him was almost more than she could stand.

  ‘So what did you think, Millie? Come on—tell me—what-did-you-think-was-going-to-happen?’ Her threatened tears didn’t move him. ‘You don’t think when you walk out on me, when you don’t bother to tell me about our baby, of the consequences. Instead you open your mouth to your so-called friend. Well, unlike you, I do stop to think—I think of ten, fifteen years from now, when our child can read, when it stumbles on the filth that you spouted.’

  ‘It won’t be like that—’

  She didn’t get a chance to finish. Two strong hands were ripping at the sheet, pulling at it like a magician with a tablecloth—only instead of plates and cutlery left intact on the table it was a thoroughly shaken Millie left lying on the bed as Levander stood over her.

  ‘This is not about what you want and it is not about me. It is about our child.’ He didn’t point, he didn’t even look, but exposing her, letting her glimpse the full horror of a future without first making amends somehow made his words sink into her core. ‘That newspaper article will always be there, the slur getting bigger with each passing day unless we halt it right now. Tonight we can make it right—make sure that when our child is old enough to stumble on it, be horrified by it, he or she will find out that the next day it was all discounted. So get up, get dressed, and get smiling—tonight we do our best for our child’s future.’

  Which didn’t exactly give her much choice.

  Pale, shaking, and feeling utterly wretched, she climbed out of bed. Though he was loathsome, he was also right—and she could actually glimpse an exit from the impossible, unsalvageable situation Janey had dumped them in. She even managed a wry smile as she glanced down at her suitcase. Which reminded her of her next problem.

  ‘I know in theory it shouldn’t matter a jot…’ Jet-lagged, and as dizzy as if she’d drunk half a bottle of champagne, Millie raked a hand through very messy hair as she rummaged through the case. She was talking to herself more than him, delivering a swift pep talk and pulling funny little faces as she did so. ‘I should just be myself, and not care about the cameras or the fact I’m dining with the Kolovskys…’

  She pulled out the faithful red dress that had seen her through a couple of weddings, many first and last dates, and hopefully—if she didn’t put on another ounce between now and next Friday—would see her through the ‘meet the artist’ night. Millie groaned at the blob of dessert she’d meant to dry-clean to oblivion, and closed her eyes in hopelessness. Resting back on her heels to look up at Levander, she missed the glimmer of a smile that briefly dusted his lips.

  ‘Levander—what the hell am I going to wear?’

  She sighed in utter relief when he delivered his answer. ‘It is all taken care of.’

  It was.

  He must have had the entire Kolovsky range transported to his suite, and a hairdresser and a make-up artist were awaiting summons. Weary, utterly drained, and still stinging from his words, for now she played along with Levander’s spin doctors, hoping and praying that even if Janey’s words couldn’t be erased, somehow they might manage to dilute them.

  Choosing from such a dazzling selection of evening wear was a feat in itself, though. The stunning colours and heavy silks that were such a trademark of the Kolovsky line, though undoubtedly fabulous, were just a touch too vibrant for five feet three of drooping exhaustion. Even the basic black seemed just a touch too opulent. But there, amidst them, was the palest grey dress, its silk so thick it felt like wool, and as she slid it over her head for the first time Millie could see why people spent thousands to own a dress as fabulous as this. The cut of the fabric was to die for, tapering over her ribs, and there was soft ruching over her stomach which took away any attention from there and diverted it to her bust—the empress neck somehow giving Millie’s rapidly expanding cleavage absolute centre stage.

  With a cape draped around her she closed her eyes as the hairdresser transformed her strawberry-blonde curls into a thick glossy mass while the make-up artist, with as much skill with a brush as Millie herself possessed, accentuated her blue eyes with grey eyeshadow, lashings of mascara, and made her lips so full and sexy it was a shame she didn’t feel like smiling.

  ‘That’s better.’ Levander barely even glanced in her direction as he lifted his collar and fed in a tie. ‘We’d better get moving.’

  ‘Am I allowed to ask who’s going to be there?’

  ‘My father Ivan, his wife—my stepmother—Nina, and no doubt her ugly sisters and their hangers-on. And my half-sister Annika will be there, too.’

  ‘The one I saw you with at the restaurant?’ Millie asked, and Levander nodded. ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Sweet.’ Levander shrugged, then cursed as his tie refused to knot. ‘Govno.’

  Watching him heading to the mirror, muttering under his breath and knotting his tie there, for the first time Millie actually registered that he was nervous.

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘That is enough for tonight. I have two half-brothers—twins, Aleksi and Iosef—but they are overseas. Aleksi is in London, working for the company.’

  ‘And the other twin?’ Millie asked, overwhelmed and wretched at the impossibility of them all.

  ‘Iosef is a doctor—a trauma specialist,’ Levander clipped. ‘He has been working in Russia for the last five years.’

  Which sounded rather more safe and normal—strange how the most esteemed profession could sound positively bland when you were a Kolovsky.

  Tie still nowhere near knotted, he glanced over to her. ‘Here.’ Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a ring—with no box or bow, and absolutely no ceremony. ‘You’d better put this on.’

  ‘Dig myself in deeper, you mean?’ Millie retorted.

  ‘Don’t play the innocent. I told your family and mine that tonight we will make things official—we can hardly do that without a ring.’

  Pushing the ring on the suitable finger, Millie gave it less than one glance and certainly not a second. She wouldn’t give him the bloody satisfaction. ‘Well, so long as you know I’m a firm believer in long engagements. I’m not going to be pushed into anything.’

  ‘And as long as you know that I’m not to be pushed out of anything either—then at least we’ll understand each other. You’d better help me with this. I can’t get it to sit right.’

  He was nervous, Millie thought again, fiddling with his tie knot. And so was she—and not only about tonight. Standing less than a few inches away from him, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his tie, she could feel his body was rigid with tension. His eyes stared fixedly ahead, and he was so tall her face was at his chest—so close it was impossible not to breathe him in, not to notice the strong angle of his fresh-shaven jaw, the thick set of his neck, impossible not to think of the last time they’d been this close.

  What did this man do to her?

  Her hands were shaking like an addict, her body craving the next dangerous fix. She focused on the ring she’d sworn not to pay any attention to—but a generous carat of diamond was a poor diversio
n when it was attached to a hand that was touching him.

  ‘That’s better…’ She had to clear her throat to speak, and stepped back a bit, admiring a little more than her handiwork. ‘Should we go?’

  ‘We’re supposed to wait for Katina.’ Levander glanced at his watch. ‘She is our head of PR—she should be here by now to brief us.’

  ‘Brief us?’ Millie gave a nervous giggle. ‘We’re going for dinner with your family. How bad can it possibly be?’

  ‘No worse than today…’ He gave her the coldest of smiles. ‘Unless, of course, we find out tomorrow that you chatted to someone else—got bored on the plane, perhaps, and discussed—’

  ‘That’s uncalled for—Janey was my friend…I trusted her.’

  ‘So who’s the fool?’ Levander sneered. ‘Who has to clean up the mess now? You know…’ he actually deigned to look at her ‘…I cannot make out if you just pretend to be stupid or if you really are.’

  ‘You bastard.’

  ‘Correct.’ Livid, he faced her. ‘I am a bastard. I grew up a bastard. And if you think for a second I will allow my child the same fate—then you really are beyond stupid. I’m tired of waiting for Katina. Let’s get this over with.’

  He had the nerve to offer her his hand as they went out through the door, but reeling, stunned and terribly close to tears, she shook her head, pulling her bag tight over her shoulder. And even though he was beside her as she stepped in the lift, as she remembered their first night in there, all the love and emotion that had somehow jetted them to this bitter point, she could hardly bear it—she couldn’t keep the truth from him for even a second longer.

  ‘What you said…’ Millie attempted. He was pushing the button, the lift doors were sliding downwards. Soon they’d be hurtled out into the public, to his family, and suddenly it was imperative that he knew the truth. ‘I didn’t forget.’

  ‘Leave it now.’ As the lift plummeted Levander frowned over, but she couldn’t.

  ‘I didn’t forget to take my pill.’ She watched his face tauten. ‘I didn’t forget because I wasn’t even on the pill.’

  ‘Are you telling me that Nina was right? That you knew exactly what you were doing?’

  The lift stopping on the twelfth floor prevented further discussion. An elderly couple stepped in—dressed to the hilt and utterly gorgeous, they made polite greetings, then held hands as the lift plummeted again. Their obvious love and affection for each other was a bitter contrast to Levander and Millie. When they finally arrived at the ground floor they were greeted by a pretty little thing, no doubt hand-picked by Levander, stepping forward and smiling brightly, introducing herself as the Kolovsky head of PR.

  ‘You were supposed to wait for me, Levander.’

  ‘You were late,’ he answered tartly.

  ‘Nina took a little longer than expected. Now—no interviews, no comments, no matter how provoked, and above all else make sure they can see the ring.’

  Pretty and smiling she might be, but she was as sharp as a tack, her shrewd eyes taking in the pair of them.

  ‘Get over it now, guys,’ she hissed through her glossy red lipstick. ‘The photographers are mainly at the restaurant, but there’s no doubt still a couple outside. So unless you want this mess still staring at you from the papers at breakfast tomorrow, I suggest you start smiling. I’ll take the car in front and field any questions. And, Millie…’ she was walking swiftly beside them to the waiting car ‘…at least try and look as if you’ve missed him. Levander, hold her hand…the right one…’ she directed. ‘When you get to the restaurant make sure it’s her right hand you’re holding.’

  He held it, all right—held it so hard it hurt. And despite his insistence that they attend, it was Levander who was flouting the strange rules—marching her to the car just as her father had done at that long-ago party, bundling her into it in a similar fashion, too, not even attempting a smile for the cameras.

  ‘You knew…’ he gritted as the car sped off towards the restaurant. It was a trip of less than half a kilometre, but there had been no question of walking. ‘You deliberately forgot to take it. Well, enjoy the pantomime you’ve created tonight, Millie. You’ve clearly worked hard to be here.’

  ‘You’re so ready to think the worst of me,’ Millie snarled, not caring that they were already pulling into the restaurant, and barely even registering the crowd on the pavement outside. ‘Maybe I am thick and stupid, but the fact is I wasn’t on the pill—and, unlike your usual sophisticates, I don’t happen to carry condoms in my purse just in case some bloody six-foot-three Russian decides to come and take my virginity.’

  ‘What?’ His voice was hoarse, his eyes darting to Millie’s as she tried to look away—anywhere but at him. ‘You’re telling me—?’

  The door was opening on their heated exchange, cameras flashing as their names were called—and she could actually see him hesitate, caught in the desire to shout something rather impolite in Russian, slam the door closed again and carry on what they’d started. But Millie had no intention of continuing this conversation now—or ever, if she could help it.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you,’ Millie snapped, before propriety took over and they stepped out of the car. But she delivered one tiny little parting shot for him to chew on over dinner. ‘So tell me, Levander, what’s your excuse?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘MILLIE!’

  ‘Levander!’

  ‘Over here, Millie!’

  As they stepped out of the car and towards the restaurant their names were being called from every angle, and despite the arguments, despite her fury, she clung tightly to his hand—because otherwise she’d surely have turned and run. Though with Katina answering on their behalf, the horror of the press with their blood up was perhaps the lesser of two evils when Levander’s family were on the other side of the door, surely furious with this naïve little thing who had got them all into this impossible mess.

  The flash of the cameras barely made Levander blink; rather it was her revelation causing shards of glass to explode in front of his eyes. His first instinct was to pull her away from the maddening crowd, to refute her claim, to tell her that the hot, sensual woman he had held that night had known exactly what she was doing, had known exactly how to please a man…

  …or how to please him.

  As they walked the short distance, continuing to be bombarded with questions, he willed himself not to think about her warm body entwined around his, the places they had taken each other that night. Her sweet, tentative, but oh, so tender tongue exploring him, eyes like jewels staring up at him, laced with questions, searching for approval as he’d implored her to go on.

  He barely registered the questions that were hurled at them, retracing instead that delicious night—but with guilty feet now, because he had thought about a condom.

  For the first time Levander admitted that to himself. For that split second as he’d hovered at her entrance, as he’d felt her silky and warm beneath his skilful fingers, it had crossed his mind to reach over as he always did to his bedside table…only he’d chosen not to.

  Chosen, if not rationally, to allow himself the feel of her. He had given in to want, hollow with a lust that only she could make him feel—the heady release he’d encountered so intense, so vivid, he’d chosen that pleasure.

  ‘Do you or Millie have anything to say about the allegations in the paper this morning regarding a termination?’

  It was the one question that stopped him in his tracks—the one question he chose not to ignore.

  ‘Nothing.’ Levander disobeyed Katina’s orders, not just in his surly response, but by wrapping his left arm around Millie’s shoulder and gripping her hand with the other. There wasn’t a hope in hell of them getting a shot of the ring—not that Levander seemed to give a damn. His face a picture of contempt as he stared boldly into the crowd. ‘There is nothing I want to say to any of you—you all disgust me.’

  * * *

  It wou
ld have been a relief to step inside if his family hadn’t been waiting.

  And, despite Levander’s ‘ugly sisters’ comment, each was more beautiful than the next. They swooped on her like humming birds—tiny, exquisite women, wrapped in vibrant colours, pecking at her cheek. Though there was nothing fragile in their voices. Despite her complete lack of Russian, Millie knew they were discussing her—thick, rich voices shouted for space as she attempted to centre herself, and she was grateful for the strong hand on her arm as Levander guided her through the maze of the restaurant, led her to the table, where she hoped to draw breath.

  ‘This is my father.’

  Millie stared at the most powerful man at the table. Even the best tailor couldn’t disguise his emaciated body and gaunt face. Silver hair brushed backwards revealed a face that was almost skeletal; shaking hands reached for the glass in front of him.

  ‘My son inherits my love for beautiful women…’ He raised a glass in her direction and Millie, unsure of what to do, turned to Levander. But there was no guidance on offer there. Her heart stilled as the anger she had been on the receiving end of paled into insignificance. Like opals on fire, she witnessed the darkness of his eyes turn black as he stared across the table.

  ‘If that is what I am to inherit from you I ask you to strike me off your will,’ Levander said coolly, as Millie tried to contain a shocked gasp. ‘Your treatment of women is something I hope to avoid.’

  ‘Levander…’ Millie couldn’t help the scold. The hatred, the vileness in his voice, was toxic, and to aim it at someone so frail, so publicly, was more than she could comprehend.

  ‘Why do you complain, Levander—I have given you everything—cars, money, yachts…’

  ‘I have worked for them all,’ Levander pounced. ‘With or without you I would have made it—vrubatsa?’

  ‘This much I understand,’ Ivan answered. ‘Whether or not I live to hear it—one day you will thank me for the opportunities I give you. Without me you are nothing.’