Born to be Bad (International Bad Boys Book 3) (13 page)

It didn’t hurt as much as perhaps it should.

“Don’t go,” Roman mumbled as she climbed out of bed.

“I have to,” Milly said, because to be at his beck and call, to play in a game called love was too dangerous for her.

Once had been a mistake.

Twice had been her pleasure.

Three times . . .

He was the most dangerous form of Russian roulette but, unlike a gun, there were only four chambers in a heart and Milly had used up two already. Anyway, Milly told herself, it was an impossibility, she would start showing soon and she wanted him as far removed from her heart as possible when she told him she was having, or had had, his child.

“You’re not going to go home wearing only a coat.” Roman said when she came out wrapped in a towel and started to pick up her things.

“I might treat myself to a taxi,” Milly said, nodding to her cash.

“You’re not going home,” Roman said.

There was a knock on the door and Roman told her he had ordered breakfast. “You might want to hide in the bathroom for a moment,” Roman said. “Or all your colleagues will know where you were last night.”

Milly did take herself off to the bathroom, but, frankly, she couldn’t care less about the staff here. She wasn’t coming back again, Milly knew.

Today she started her life minus Roman and the many memories of him. Today she became a mother-to-be rather than a paid lover that was.

“Have breakfast.” Roman said when she came out and Milly nodded.

She sat in her towel on the bed, but not in it, and drank strong sweet coffee and looked over to Roman who was staring at her.

“Will I ever see you again?’ Roman asked, because he wanted to know her plans. If she intended to shut her out of her life and their baby’s forever.

“Probably,” Milly said. “You’ve got a lot going on right now but maybe . . . ” She gave a shrug that told Roman of her turmoil. “Maybe you could give me your phone number. You blocked it last time you called.”

“My number is always blocked,” Roman said.

So’s your heart, Milly thought.

“I’ll give it you,” Roman said. “Anyway, I don’t have a lot going on in my life. I have some research to do but apart from that . . . ” He watched her frown. “Not only did my mother cheat, it would seem that my grandmother did too. I was cross about it last night. I’m not now. More curious.” He got out of bed and unashamedly naked returned with a pile of books. “Apparently in one of these is my real grandfather. He gave jewels to Danya, my grandmother. The hallmarks had been scratched out, but Kate thought it was pre-1917 and from the Romanov Empire. Isaak and Kate have been tying to find out who the jeweler was and the families he designed for. She’s come up with some names and flagged a few.” He dropped them all on the bed. “Maybe I’m not as dangerous as I thought.”

“You’re not dangerous, Roman,” Milly said as Roman got back into bed. “Whoever your family is.”

Milly ate a pastry and flicked through one of the books, looking at the sticky notes from Kate.

“Most of them would have been dead long before Ivor was born,” Roman explained. “But Kate wants to look more closely. Maybe a cousin or one of them had a son that no-one knew about. Most of the records were destroyed.”

“It’s him,” Milly said and Roman frowned. “Or at least, you’re related to him.” Roman put his coffee down and came across the bed, so that he was kneeling behind Kate and looking over her shoulder.

“Milly, Kate has been researching for weeks, this is her job.” And then he stilled when he saw the name beneath a portrait.

Grand Duke Mikhail Iosef Romanzky

“Ivor’s middle name is Mihaylov,” Roman said, his face paling. “It is not written on his birth certificate or death certificate, I would have seen that, but he wrote in his letter . . .” Roman got out of bed and unfolded the letter that he had screwed into a ball last night.

And Milly read it.

Not just the signature, but the whole letter and it brought tears to her eyes to read Ivor’s words for, yes, he had known his son.

“Can you forgive him?” Milly asked, and Roman nodded.

“I already have. I feel sad for Boris, but Ivor did not make him angry, he was an unhappy man long before the affair started.” He pointed to Ivor’s signature at the bottom of the letter.

“He gave me a clue,” Roman said. “I don’t think Kate and Isaak know this.”

“I don’t understand,” Milly admitted.

“In Russian,
Ivor
Mihaylov Zaretsky,
would mean, Ivor son of Mikhail.” Roman shook his head. “But it cannot be him, the lineage were all massacred . . . ”

“I don’t know how it’s possible,” Milly shrugged. “I just
know
that you’re related to him.”

“How?” Roman asked.

“You have the same cheekbones,” Milly said, trying to keep the wobble from her voice. “And you see the way his eyes slant?” The way their baby’s eyes might slant, Milly thought and she knew she could not keep her pregnancy a secret from him for long. Right now, though she had to get out, she had to get away, just so that she could clear her head.

“I don’t see it,” Roman said.

“I do,” Milly said, because every feature, every nuance, was imprinted on her heart, from the curve of his lips, to the set of his chin.

She wasn’t looking at dates and lineages, love told her that this was Roman’s family.

“I’m going to go,” Milly said and she put on her coat over the towel and only then did she drop the towel to the floor.

“No you’re not,” Roman said and lay back on the pillow and nodded his head for her to join him.

“Oh, but I am going to go.” Milly said and even managed to smile at him as she picked up her cash. “You’re so messed up, Roman. Wouldn’t it be far cheaper just to fall in love than pay to pretend?”

Roman smiled back at her. “Stay.”

“Nope.” Milly said, though she was counting the bullet chambers left in her heart for so badly she wanted back in bed with him but she held strong. “You mess too much with my head.”

“You love me,” Roman said, but Milly was ready for him.

“It doesn’t matter if I do. I need to get on with my life. I somehow have to put it all back together. So, I’m going to take the money and run.”

“We’ll see.”

“You’re so bloody arrogant,” Milly said lifted up the cash and then she saw beneath it a ring. An exquisite ring, far more beautiful than any she had ever seen. It was white gold and had not just a huge diamond but was encrusted with rubies and emeralds. For a foolish utterly foolish second her heart rose in hope and then, because this was Roman, because she
was
way, way, out of her league, Roman crushed it again.

“That ring was given to Ivor by my grandmother.”

“Oh.” She attempted nonchalance, Milly did her very best not to reveal that for a shard of time she had dared to hope it was for her.

“Kate wore it when their engagement was fake, Isaak has since brought her another one.”

Milly said nothing.

“Put it on and come back to bed.”

“I don’t want to,” Milly said. And then the temper flared. “What? Do you want to play happy couples again? Do you want to play fiancés, or husband and wife?”

“I do,” Roman said and he picked up a pillow beside his head and tossed it to her. “Put that up your coat,” Roman said. “The thought of you pregnant turns me on.”

He knew, Milly realised. He knew, and such was her anger that she went to slap him but Roman was too quick for her. Again, he caught her wrist and he held it only this time when she met his eyes, there was no fear or rage there, just the most tender of spaces and the calm of love. “
Vsyo budet horosho
,” Roman said and Milly started to cry.

“It can never be fine. You’ll think I trapped you . . . ”

“Not for a moment,” Roman said and he pulled her down to his side.

“Or you’ll be cross that I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“You would have told me,” Roman said. “When you felt the time was right. It’s right now, Milly. I don’t blame you for a moment for not wanting me in your baby’s life. I know I can be dark but I promise . . . ”

“It’s not just that,” Milly said. “You were only with Ava for the baby . . . ”

“And look how terribly that worked out,” Roman said. “I would never make that same mistake twice. I have always thought that I might be like my father or grandfather; you have always known that I am not. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”

Milly looked at him. “How will we ever tell the baby how we met?”

“I fell in love with a pretend
bliad
,” Roman smiled and he kissed her teary face but then he was serious.

“My uncle, or rather my father, wrote and told me that it is time to trust and I did not know how, but you showed me last night what trust means. I saw you pregnant with our child and here for me, accepting me, good or bad and somehow safe that I would not hurt you. I never would.”

“I know that,” Milly said.

She always had.

“I want you to wear this ring; you don’t have to if you would prefer another. Kate and Isaak wanted to make their own history. I want to find mine,” Roman said. “With you. Always with you.”

He put the ring on her finger. “You have accepted my past and I can never thank you enough for that, I want to take us into the future.”

His kiss was not gentle or tender, it was fierce with possession, it told her that he intended to make up for all the times she had denied him and for all the hell he had put her through.

“Take off your coat,” Roman said. “And get back to bed.”

So willingly, Milly did.

It was where her heart belonged.

R
oman was the
first to stand and applaud as the last night of
Othello
played to packed audience.

It had opened to rave reviews and, tonight, would close to them too.

Millicent Harper had arrived and no-one could be prouder of Milly than Roman.

He watched as she accepted flowers and took her final bow.

Milly drank in the applause from the audience. She was dressed in the flowing white nightgown and her hair was coiled into ringlets and her feet were bare.

It had been the most exhilarating weeks of her life.

They were looking for a home and so they were living in one of Roman and Isaak’s hotels, while trying to hide their relationship from the press.

Milly didn’t want his fame to interfere with her career, she wanted to know that when an offer came, it had only her name on it.

Yesterday one had.

A huge production of
Macbeth
would be opening in London six weeks after their baby was born. Milly had been offered the role of Lady Macbeth—dark, power-hungry, crazed, the more she read the script the more she wanted to play that role, though it had seemed impossible.

“Why?” Roman had asked.

“I’ll be feeding.”

“We’ll be waiting in the wings for you,” Roman shrugged. “We’ll make it work.”

*     *     *

Now, as the
curtain went down on the current play, Milly wiped away tears with the back of her hand and as they came off stage she hugged Sebastian who had played Othello.

“You were wonderful,” Milly said. “I can’t quite believe it’s finished.”

Milly smiled, as a nurse wheeled her mother towards her and Milly gave her mother a hug.

“I loved it the first time I saw it,” Catherine said, “but you were brilliant tonight.”

“Thanks Mum.” It meant so much to Milly that her mother had seen her perform, not once, but twice.

“Where’s Roman?” Catherine asked.

“He’ll be here soon,” Milly said, “we’re going to a restaurant for an after party. Come with us, even just for one drink . . . ”

“I’m tired,” Catherine said. “I’m going to go back to the home and to bed. Say hi to Roman for me.”

“I shall.”

Roman had Catherine eating out of the palm of her hand. She had been very wary of the rather imposing Russian who had first come to visit her with Milly. Seeing her daughter so happy though, had soon changed Catherine’s mind and the fact she was having a baby was simply the icing on the cake.