Excerpt
We enter a hall so big the
tiniest sound echoes. It’s quite humbling. I shrink in my clothes and barely
dare to breathe. Dark wood furniture towers over us, with a mix of
contradictory smells—orchid-scented sanitizer and old dust—filling
the space.
Shoes clamping on a
hardwood floor, we follow the tall, silver-haired man into a living room with
exquisite furniture, gold-framed mirrors, and classic paintings on the walls.
Heavy velvet curtains adorn the windows, and an impressive floor-to-ceiling
library on one side has to contain literary curiosities from every part of the
world. Marveling, I study each magnificent object.
The man stops and glares across the room, his facial
expression clearly one of annoyance. What an oppressive atmosphere.
Yushka stands beside him and stares in the same
direction.
I follow their gaze. A young and strikingly beautiful
woman is half-seated on a green velvet couch with her legs folded underneath
her. Dark doe eyes and pink lips stand out in a pale, oval face. A waterfall of
rich, glowing auburn-colored hair contrasts with her white dress. She looks
cast in a scene from the Russian classic Doctor
Zhivago. Beneath full breasts, a pregnant belly protrudes, far too round
and big for her frail frame. Jekaterina?
My chest tightens. The more I look at her, the more
her beauty takes my breath away. She’s the woman Yushka was in love with last
year. The one he slept with and impregnated.
Her gaze is riveted on him, the recognition and warmth
fiery.
I shoot him a glance. His features are tight, as if
he’s trying to hide his reaction, but he doesn’t take his gaze off her. This is
exactly what I feared. They’ve had feelings for each other. Maybe meeting now
will revive them. He has fallen for her once, so why would he not fall for her
again?
I feel bad, nauseous, want to get out of here. But
she’s carrying the baby girl I’m going to call mine very soon. I need to
overcome my unease. Hopefully, once the formalities are done, this is the only
time we’ll have to meet.
She tells him a few words in Russian, her voice the
cooing of a turtledove.
Yushka replies calmly, but his throat sounds choked.
He grabs my hand, palm sweaty, and leads me to a sofa opposite hers. His
discomfort is more than clear in his features. He tears his gaze from her and
searches me, his expression vibrating with an intensity I seldom see. It hits
me—he’s afraid.
I squeeze his hand. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he replies instantly, but his tension is
palpable.
My chest tightens to a painful level. What is he so
nervous about? From his interaction with Jekaterina, this has nothing to do
with the baby. It’s about them, their relationship, and me. Is he afraid he’ll
have to choose between us?
Goodness, I’m delirious. I sit very still, take small,
shallow breaths, and pray for everything to be all right. Then bolt out of this
house after the arrangements are resolved.
Jekaterina addresses me, her dark pupils glimmering.
“You’re very beautiful. Are you a model, too?”
I’m as taken aback by her speaking a fluent English as
I am by her compliment, and need a few seconds to shake myself. “Um, no, I’m
not.”
She raises a brow. “That’s funny. I would’ve sworn you
were a model. So how did you two meet?”
“At an author conference.”
Yushka clears his throat. “Andrea writes books, and
I’m featured on the cover of her last one.”
“Oh, how exciting.” Her lips curve upward. I can’t
decide whether it’s a genuine smile or she’s faking it.
“Yes,” he continues. “That’s why we … uh … were bound
to meet. They had organized a Meet-and-Greet for authors and cover models of
their books.” Why does he sound like he’s trying to make an excuse?
She flutters her long lashes at me. “What kind of
books do you write?”
Before I can answer, her father walks over to a
cabinet and picks up a bunch of papers. “All right, enough chit-chat.” His
voice booms like thunder.
Hi Elodie, Thanks for having me on your blog again!
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