Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
IVAN
“ W ell?” I say into my phone, as the door to the G-Wagon is pulled open and I step out of the driver’s seat.
One of my men gives me a respectful nod as he takes my place and drives the car into the garage.
“Hello, Mr. Ivanovich,” Dr. Van says quietly in my ear. “The lab has just contacted me with the results of the tests and to all intents and purposes she has been given the all-clear. I will email the results to you. I’ve also given her a prescription for an effective contraceptive protocol that will take a few days to take effect, but in the meantime, I believe, she is already on an acceptable method of birth control.”
I end the call as Boris opens the door for me. I nod in acknowledgment. Muriel is waiting as well, along with two other staff, both male. She smiles at me.
“Dinner’s ready, and as you requested, they went all out, Sir.”
I glance at the two other wait staff standing beside her. “It’s been an exhausting day. I want peace and quiet. After I’ve eaten, everyone can retire for the night.”
She nods. “Very good, Sir.”
I remove my jacket and she takes it from me in a smooth practiced movement and passes it to one of the men. I take my seat at the dining table and she pours wine into my glass. “You are having seafood and fish, but I believe this red Chateau Caronne Ste-Gemme will be the perfect accompaniment,” she murmurs quietly.
I swirl the deep red liquid in the gold-rimmed glass meditatively. Already, I can smell the complex aromas. I take a sip and let the richness of the velvety smooth Boudreaux roll on my tongue while she stands back and waits. That is the beauty of Muriel, she is more talented and knowledgeable about wines, choosing and pairing them with food than some of the best master sommeliers in Europe, but she is impressively modest and understated about her rare ability.
I nod appreciatively at her selection and she allows herself a small smile of satisfaction before filling my glass one-third of the way. One of the wait staff arrives promptly and begins to serve the meal.
“For the starter, we have edible seaweed rolled with horseradish, barbecued langoustine, and golden beets,” Muriel explains.
I place a forkful of langoustine into my mouth and it melts beautifully on my tongue. It is a fantastic creation and a class act in the play of delicate flavors.
“This is superb. Who made it?”
“Anton created both the starter and main course, and Juan helped with the preparations. The preserved squid plait you will be having with your main course was sourced by James and flown in this afternoon from Japan.”
“My compliments to Anton and Juan,” I say as I swallow.
I realize how hungry I am. The tension of the day had masked it, but it feels like my body is reclaiming what it’s been denied. Next up is jowl and throat of a cod head cooked with wild garlic, chives, and fig leaf oil served on a bone skewer and sitting on a bed of smoked tomato and pumpkin puree. The plaited squid preserved in sweet vinegar lays next to it. The presentation is worthy of a Michelin star.
I cut a piece of cod and chew appreciatively on the tender meat. It is delicious. “Is the North bedroom ready?”
“Yes, it has been thoroughly cleaned, aired, and made ready for Miss Fitzpatrick.”
I grunt as I cut a piece of the Japanese squid. “Did Greta bring some paperwork today?”
“She brought a sealed A4 envelope. I put it on your desk.”
“Did she bring clothes for my guest?”
“I believe she brought clothes, shoes, bags, and accessories. She also requested champagne and strawberries to be sent up to the North room later tonight.”
“Good,” I reply, the image of the woman who will arrive in a few minutes filling my mind. Instantly, I feel an acute anticipation building inside me.
“Would you like me to prepare anything specific for Miss Fitzpatrick to eat?” Muriel asks.
I lean back. “Probably not, but you can serve her breakfast in the morning.”
“Certainly, Sir,” she responds, as she refills my glass.
I press a button on my phone. “Is she on her way?” I ask in Russian.
“Yes, Mr. Ivanovich.”
“What happened after I left?”
“She went back to her apartment and stayed there until the limo arrived to pick her up. There was another woman there who came out with her.”
I know exactly who that was—her friend, Leila. I push my plate away. “How long before she gets here?”
“At this time of the night, I would say less than fifteen minutes.”
I end the connection and feel a strange nervousness building inside me, a rush of excitement I don’t often experience.
“Shall I serve the dessert now, Sir?” Muriel asks.
“I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m not in the mood for anything sweet tonight.” Tonight’s dessert will be Leda’s hate and fury for the swan.
I sip my wine slowly while I contemplate what to do with her on her first night here. All kinds of wild and sensuous images slither into my mind, but suddenly it becomes as clear as crystal what I must do. I must not approach her at all tonight. It will serve as an unspoken torment, making her wait and speculate on my intentions. The anticipation will work in my favor. The end result will be a more explosive climax… for both of us.
I’d been thinking of waiting to receive her since we still had some details to discuss, but I decide that taking a shower, washing off all the grime and stress from the day, is a much more appealing option.
Nodding to myself, I rise to my feet and turn to Muriel. “My guest will be arriving in a few minutes. Please serve the sealed envelope that Greta brought together with the champagne and strawberries.”
“Yes, Sir,” she responds immediately, and I make my way up the stairs.