Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
LARA
I really don’t know why I’m upset. What else was I expecting? That he would suddenly confide in me, spill all his problems like we’re equals in this, like we share more than just passion?
The door clicks shut behind him. Once his footsteps die outside, silence fills the room. The air feels suddenly too suffocating and warm and I feel the need to escape, to breathe. My hands move towards my hair, smoothing it down, but my mind is elsewhere, stuck on the hollowness of our exchange.
Why do I feel this way? Hurt and disappointed. I wanted more than just his body, even though I should know better. After all, this is what I signed up for, right?
Shaking my head, I push those thoughts away and leave the summerhouse. I walk back to the house and see that everyone is still on the terrace. Many lamps have been lit, there is music, and from where I am it looks like everyone is having fun and enjoying themselves. Instead, I grab a glass of wine from the counter, needing something to distract me. I walk towards a waiter holding a tray of champagne flutes. It makes me long for some alcohol.
“May I have a glass?” I ask, making a drinking gesture with my hand.
“Of course,” he says in English.
I walk to the edge of the terrace and hidden away from everyone by a laurel bush, sit on the stone steps to enjoy my drink. I take a sip of the bursting bubbles and gaze out into the gorgeous night sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asks suddenly.
Startled, I glance up and find Natalia looking down on me.
My throat tightens, and I nearly choke on my drink, but I manage to compose myself just in time. She’s watching me, her eyes sharp but unreadable. I’ve been avoiding her penetrating gaze all evening. And now, here she is, standing over me, wanting to engage in conversation.
“I’m not trying to pry,” she says, her voice smooth, detached, “but I can’t help but wonder why Ivan brought you here. Are you both serious about each other?” She pauses, her eyes scanning me as if I’m something she’s trying to figure out.
Her words hang in the air between us, and for a second, I don’t know how to respond. I stare at her, wondering why there is no love in Ivan’s family. Why deos he seem so distant from the people who should be supporting him in this difficult time?
“I’m just the girl of the moment,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, though the words taste bitter in my mouth.
Natalia looks at me, her expression unreadable. She takes a sip of her wine. “He must really like you to bring you here. I’ve never met any of his women before, though he’s had many.”
I drain my glass. “I can assure you, it’s not serious. We’re just having fun.”
Natalia watches me for a moment longer, as if she doesn’t believe me, then, with a faint shrug, she turns and walks away.
I glance back at the party, taking in the scene—the magical lighting, the music, the servants bearing trays of more drinks, the carefree laughter from the elegantly dressed people. And I feel a new worry. Something is eating away at Ivan, something far bigger than he usually deals with, and none of his family know about. It saddens me because I don’t know what it is. And it depresses me that I might not ever really know him.
A voice behind me interrupts my dismal thoughts, and I turn to see Nikolai approaching.
“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot earlier,” he apologizes, leaning against the stone balustrade. “Ivan has a way of making everyone’s intentions seem... untrustworthy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I dismiss. I feel a bit more at ease with Nikolai than I do with anyone else here. He’s charming, yes, but there’s a sincerity in him that draws me to him.
“What’s going on with your family? Why is everyone so distant with each other?” I ask. The questions slipping out before I can stop them. I’ve been wondering all evening after seeing how detached they all seem.
Nikolai raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem offended by the question. Instead, he sighs and takes a sip of his wine before answering.
“Well, money does that to you,” he says with a wry smile.
I blink in confusion, and he elaborates.
“The family was ripped apart when my father and Ivan got into a bitter feud. It was so bad they refused to be in the same room together. Sadly, they both made us choose sides.”
“I see,” I say slowly. “Did you pick a side?”
He shook his head, and I can see the pain behind his easygoing demeanor. “No, Ivan picked it for me. He cut me off so my father wouldn’t hate me too.”
I listen quietly, my heart aching for Ivan as he continues.
Nikolai’s expression darkens. “I’ve been trying to get along with the family ever since, but it’s pretty impossible. As for Ivan and Natalia... well, they used to be close. Very close. But when things got ugly Natalia made her choice. And she chose my father. Can’t blame her, my father is a very rich man.”
I take it in, feeling like I’m finally beginning to understand the fractured dynamics at play here. It’s no wonder Ivan is so closed off. He’s been walking this tightrope between his family and his own ambitions for years, and it’s clear that no one has made it easy for him.
Nikolai nods. “That’s our story. What’s yours? You’re not Ivan’s usual type.”
“What’s his usual type?”
He smiles suddenly. “How do you say it in America? Bimbo?”
I smile. “Ah.”
The music changes in the background into a fast tune. Nikolai grins and offers me his hand. “Care for a dance?”
I hesitate, glancing around at the guests, the family.
“Come on,” he urges. “You have to dance when you are in France.”
I look into his eyes and I see no malice, no ulterior motive, no sexual come-on. Nikolai is just a nice guy and he means no harm. Maybe I can help mend the rift between him and Ivan. I take his hand and let him lead me towards the merrymakers.
He is a great dancer and I find myself relaxing, even laughing a little. It’s a strange contrast to everything I’ve been feeling, but it’s a welcome distraction. As the song ends, Nikolai twirls me one last time, grinning down at me.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.”
But before I can reply, a cold voice interrupts us. “Mind if I cut in?”
“Papa,” Nikolai exclaims in shock, and immediately steps back. I stare at Ivan’s father curiously.
His tone leaves no room for refusal, and Nikolai literally scuttles away like a frightened rabbit, and I’m left staring into Ivan’s mortal enemy. He looks a bit like an older version of Ivan, but his presence is commanding, almost chilling, like that of a general, and I feel a wave of nervousness wash over me as he takes my hand formally.
“It is good that my son has picked a girl that can waltz.”
My eyebrows rise with surprise.
“What exactly is your relationship with my son?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Everyone keeps asking me this question. “We’re... we’re just having a… casual relationship,” I say, but the words feel strange on my tongue. The more I say them the more I hate saying them.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “If it were casual, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
He doesn’t know about the nature of our relationship, our arrangement, and I’m not the person to enlighten him.
I clear my throat. “I’m his real estate agent,” I explain lamely. “We... sort of became friends.”
He nods, but I can’t tell if he believes me. He lapses into silence and I can’t think of a single thing to say either. When the song ends, he releases me with a curt nod.
“Goodnight, Miss Fitzpatrick.” Then he’s gone, almost as if he was a figment of my imagination.