Chapter 20 #2
“He says you met with lawyers this afternoon, but that it wasn’t a divorce agreement. He doesn’t understand the contract you signed and doesn’t care. He said that the marriage doesn’t have to be divorced and annulled if you are a widower.”
I continued to waltz. My feet moved forward-side-together, back-side-together, my face utterly impassive, but my mind was battering itself inside my skull, screaming don’t, no, don’t, no. “That’s a brave statement.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I certainly see what you are trying to do.”
I saw that Alina was delivering her father’s ultimatum to me. Whether she thought she was helping me or furthering his agenda was immaterial.
She frowned, scowling, absolutely baring her grinding teeth, a surprising display of emotion for someone who’d said she’d attended my Swiss boarding school and an elite high school in England, as her father had talked about at that vodka-soaked meeting.
And that made her—
Wait. “How old did you say you were?”
“I’m twenty-two. I said I should’ve run off when I was seventeen, not that I am seventeen.”
So she was a year older than Kostya, which put her in Clementine’s year at Le Rosey.
I didn’t spend much time with the lower standards when I was in the upper school, but I did know most of the students in Clementine’s class because I kept an eye on how they treated my cousin.
Throwing the boys against a wall and threatening to dump their bodies in the depths of Lake Geneva was simple enough, but the girls had been harder to influence to leave Clementine alone.
In the lower school, Clementine had been vulnerable, not really one of us yet. Her family had been bankers and merchants for generations, not royals or even exponentially upper class, until her third cousin married my father and gave her family access to places like the Le Rosey boarding school.
The other kids had heard from their parents that some undeserving children of tradespeople had been let in.
The children of Russian organized crime bosses could hold their own, of course. Parents could be threatened. The kids themselves had been abused at home and liked to bully other children in turn.
Like Alina.
“I say, I can’t quite place you. Did I know you at Le Rosey?” I asked.
Her quick smile made her look even more familiar. “I attended Le Rosey, too, through junior high. I’ve changed quite a bit since I was twelve, though. I was in your cousin Clem-Clem’s class.”
“Alina Volkov.” Her name connected with her face in my mind, and any sympathy I had for her situation evaporated.
“You were one of those terrible little girls who bullied my cousin Clementine so virulently. I put a stop to the boys physically smacking her around, but I couldn’t do as much with the girls who thought vile remarks and rumors were funny. ”
She shrugged one bare shoulder. “It was a long time ago.”
“It was cruel, and it wasn’t long enough ago.” I stopped waltzing and dropped my hands, even though the orchestra played on. Shock and revulsion consumed me. “You were particularly cruel to her.”
“Twelve-year-old girls are terrible. I was quite awful. If I could go back and do it over, I would do everything differently.” She glanced out of the corners of her eyes at the other dancers who had slowed or stopped moving and were just watching us.
“We are making a spectacle of ourselves. Can we dance?”
I took her hand and wrapped one arm around her again. I held her as far away from myself as I could reach, which, with being six-four with proportional arms, took up some space. “You never apologized to her, did you?”
Alina wrinkled her nose as if she’d sniffed something that stank. “Why would I—Oh. Do you think she even remembers?”
“I remember quite clearly how awful you were. There’s a good chance Clementine does, too.”
Her smile brightened. “That’s a good idea, to apologize to her. If I see her around, I will. After Le Rosey, I went to boarding school in England, you know. For high school.”
Beyond Alina’s shoulder, Clementine stormed toward us. Her fists swung at her sides, and her long, silvery skirt swished around her legs.
Oh, no.
“Nico! What in the living hell are you doing, dancing with someone other than your wife? Where is Lexi?”
She reached us, and I was just about to warn her off, when Clementine turned to Alina.
Clementine chirped at her, “I don’t know who put you up to this, but this is not appropriate. Now, whatever. Go!”
It was, of course, at that exact moment that Lexi joined us, because of course she did. I would have shielded her from this mess.
“Nicolai, introduce me to your friend,” Lexi snarled.
Her poisonous tone told me she’d seen Alina kiss me. “I’ll explain.”
“You’d better.”
And then, Alina did the dumbest thing she could have, and I cringed as I heard her doing it.
She threw her arms around Clemmy’s neck and hugged her. “Clementine! It’s so good to see you! Don’t you remember me?”
Clementine stepped backward out of Alina’s embrace and half-turned away. Her perusal of Alina, from head to toe and back up again, obviously found something lacking. “No, you don’t seem memorable at all.”
“It’s Alina Volkov, from Le Rosey. We went through the entire lower school together!”
Before Alina could even finish talking, Clementine had turned her back and stalked away with her head held high.
The ballroom crowd parted for Clementine as she strode. I swear to God that one of the tables jumped aside.
Alina ran after Clementine. “Wait! I want to talk to you!”
Lexi asked me, “Should I follow her?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “Clementine will want privacy for this.”
Whatever had passed between Alina and me, I was confident that Clementine would eviscerate her.