Chapter 23
Polly is drowning. I could tell the moment she saw her legacy first hand. I have grown up surrounded by more money than I will ever spend and the shopping trip meant nothing to me outside of proving that to Polly. I want her to be comfortable with wealth. With my wealth because for some reason she is fixating on paying me back for everything,
I may be using that to my advantage, but I will never accept a dime from her or even a British pound. All I want is her help and her body, although I am trying not to rely on her company too much. The soft glances she directs my way and the deep yearning in her eyes are way too addictive and confusing.
Her sympathetic touches at exactly the time they are needed are something I have never experienced. Nobody ever cares how I’m feeling or how things affect me at all. I am a Romanov and emotion is something we don’t have a lot of. It’s always business first for the good of the family. It’s our way of life and I wonder when that changed for my father.
It hurts that every stone we turn reveals he had another life. A different life to the one he enjoyed with us and it’s shaping up to be a better one for him. How did they get away with this for so long? Nobody knew. His business trips were never questioned and when Mikhail discovered his involvement with the organization Burning Roses, we believed at first it just involved sex with a paid whore.
However, Veronica Scott-Stanley was that paid whore because from all accounts, he was her only customer. A mistress if you like but those letters proved she was a lot more than that. As I watch Polly talking quietly with the agent from the solicitors handling her aunt’s London affairs, I know immediately there is another piece of this disturbing puzzle about to be revealed.
She heads back inside and attempts to smile brightly, but I register the confusion in her eyes and I nod toward the large kitchen that overlooks the garden.
Simon is already unpacking the huge delivery from Harrods’ food halls and so I direct her through the bifold doors into the small garden that I believe is considered large in London.
“This place is beautiful, Valentin.” She gazes around in awe at the well-tended garden that is awash with roses in bloom.
There is a small stone bench set under an apple tree, and I guide her to it and dust the leaves from the seat.
“Let’s sit for a while. This must be a lot to take in.”
She smiles gratefully. “It is.”
Her soft laugh catches on a sudden breeze and her shy smile hits me somewhere deep inside my jaded heart.
“Now I’m conflicted.”
“In what way?” I reach for her hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world and she surprises me by resting her head on my shoulder.
Something tugs deep inside me as I sit with her alone in the sunshine and even the birds have a lot to say as they serenade us with their sweet songs.
“I love this house, and I love Thorn house. I can’t choose between them now.”
“Do you have to choose?” I fail to see what the problem is, and she rolls her eyes as she peers up at me from under her long lashes.
“Spoken like a man who has never struggled for money in his life.”
“I haven’t.”
I shrug and roll my thumb around the top of her hand, loving how it feels inside my own tattooed one. It appears so small, delicate, even and more intimate than when I am deep inside her body. That is just sex, a physical gratification, but this is something else entirely. It’s a simple pleasure that costs nothing at all. No sacrifice to your soul or money spent. Just a sweet simple pleasure that speaks volumes, and I sense my heart beating faster as I savor the moment.
“No. My problem is the bills. I earn less than two thousand pounds a month and that is on a good one. Out of that I pay tax, electricity, water, and food, not to mention other sundry items.”
“Sundry items?” I laugh softly and she grins, the happiness on her face catching me off guard for a second. Polly is a beautiful woman most of the time, but here, directing a smile at me that is full of happiness, she is an ethereal being who I would be a fool to let walk away.
It would be so easy to promise her the world to keep her for a moment longer. Was this how my father felt with Veronica? Did she tug on his heartstrings in the same way and he would do anything to keep her? Was she someone he couldn’t give up if he tried? His drug, his downfall, and his shame.
Polly is none of those things because I have no commitment to anyone else. I am free to explore all possibilities with her and I surprise myself by reaching up and trailing a heavy finger down her fragile face.
Her lips part slightly and her eyes glitter, and I just can’t help myself and lean in for a kiss. As our lips touch, the world stills and takes note. Nothing can disturb this moment because it’s wrapped in epiphany. This simple pleasure means the world to me and suddenly, like Polly, I don’t want to play this game anymore. I want something very different now and yet it wouldn’t work. I already know that because I travel the globe and have no time to consider anyone else, but the time I spend with her is more desirable than any business deal I have ever wished to make.
“Valentin.” Her soft mention of my name causes my heart to beat faster and she whispers, “Why do I love hate you so much?”
“Because we all love things that are bad for us, malyshka, and I am extremely bad for you.”
She giggles against my mouth and then stuns me by cupping my face in her delicate hands and kissing me so deeply it confuses me.
Her soft moan tells me exactly what she’s thinking and as her tongue claims mine and her thumb rubs against my cheek, I’m surprised to discover the person now in control is her.
We kiss for the longest moment and then she pulls back and says huskily, “I’m going inside to shower. Meet me in the blue room at the top of the house in thirty minutes and I’ll show you what I bought in Harrods.”
I stare at her with a question in my eyes and she giggles, offering me a shy wink and then she pulls away and whispers in my ear, “I promise to make it worth your time.”
As she walks away, she doesn’t look back, and I shamelessly fix my gaze on her shapely ass as she heads inside.
Fuck!
I rake my fingers through my hair and wonder when I lusted after a woman as much as I do her. The only time I can remember was my teacher in high school. Miss Crawford. Every kid fancied the pants off her but she was engaged to the phys ed teacher who wrestled bears for fun in his spare time. I had many x-rated dreams about Miss Crawford, but none of them compare to the ones I’m imagining now that will take place in the blue room at the top of Briar House.