Innocent in the Ivory Tower (14 page)

The yacht was buzzing with activity. Another tender was arriving as she stepped aboard, and Maisy felt an unexpected flutter of nerves. She was naturally shy, but had worked very hard to practise her social skills, so that she could usually make friends wherever she went. But these people were Alexei’s friends, and that thought sent her over the edge. She needed to pull herself together and remember there was no reason why they wouldn’t like her, that there was nothing out of the ordinary in her situation. In this world mistresses were an
expected
addition to a successful man. And, although Alexei had never used that word, Maisy now understood he believed it was the only position in his life a woman could occupy.

As she was escorted into the main salon she saw people on the foredeck actively craning their necks to get a glimpse of
her. It was an odd sensation, and Maisy wasn’t sure she liked it. The attendant with her knocked briefly on a door, then nodded to Maisy and retreated.

‘Enter.’

Maisy felt very odd, waiting for permission to enter Alexei’s presence. He was applying cufflinks to his suit and he dropped one of them as he looked up and fastened his eyes on her.

She went to pick it up but he caught her hand, raising her up. ‘I want to look at you.’

His approval should have been gratifying, but Maisy was finding it difficult to enjoy it.

‘You look so different,’ he said, his accent thicker than usual.

‘It’s the hair and the make-up,’ she dismissed, trying to make light of it. ‘It’s still me underneath the scaffolding.’ She tried not to seem too eager, but couldn’t help asking, ‘Are you going to kiss me?’

‘Of course.’ He brushed his lips over her cheek.

Disappointed, Maisy tried to justify his coolness. She was wearing lipstick; they were both dressed up; he probably didn’t want to reek of her perfume …

‘You look beautiful,’ she said impulsively, touching his jacket, straightening what was already straight.

‘That’s my line,’ he replied, subtly drawing away.

But it hadn’t been his line.
Different
had been his line.

‘I’m nervous,’ she blurted out.

‘Don’t be. They’re only people.’

‘They’re your friends.’

‘No, Maisy, for the most part they’re just a crowd. You’ll enjoy yourself. I’d ask you to keep a lid on the Kostya situation, if you would. People are curious, but it’s none of their business.’

The Kostya situation?
‘I don’t quite understand.’

Alexei scooped up the gold cufflink. ‘Simple. I’ll be blunt. Don’t tell people you’re the nanny.’

He gave her a brief taut smile, as if trying to take the edge off his words.

‘No,’ Maisy said quietly, ‘I wouldn’t do that. It would be humiliating for me, considering my circumstances now.’

‘We’re not going to have an argument right now, are we,
dushka
?’ He was smiling but his eyes were hard. ‘So close to showtime?’

‘No, no argument.’ She focussed on his hands, fumbling with his cuff, and instinctively reached out and took the cufflink from him, fastening it to his sleeve in silence. She could feel him breathing so close to her. She stroked his wrist with her fingertips and his breathing hitched. It was the reassurance she needed. She lifted his hand and pressed her lips to his palm. It was then she realised why he had been having so much trouble with the cufflink. His hands were shaking.

Yesterday she would have asked him why. Today she gave him her best smile. ‘No one will notice lipstick on your hand, and if they do—’ her smile faltered only a little ‘—you can tell them it’s just a token of affection from your mistress.’

He didn’t correct her.

M
AISY
had felt overdressed as she was sped towards the yacht. Now, amidst so much luxury and Alexei’s guests, she was glad of her clothes and hair and insubstantial sandals. Some of these women were utterly breathtaking. The men were all cool and sharp and controlled. She recognised the type. She had been living with a prince of the blood for several weeks.

She desperately wanted to cling on to Alexei’s hand when she came out into the sunshine on his arm, but she knew deep down any sign of vulnerability would bring her closer to the edge of their relationship. She really didn’t want to fall today. Not in front of all these people.

Yet her fragility threatened to undermine her with every step. The heels on her sandals clicked on the teak decking, the silken underskirt of her dress flowed over her hips and thighs like cool water, yet her skin felt hot and tight and her throat ached from everything she was holding inside her.

Alexei had completely metamorphosed into a cool stranger and she was out of her depth. They were back to where they had been at midnight on that strange night weeks ago in London. It was as if all that had happened between them had been a feverish dream and at any moment he was going to look down at her and demand to know who in the hell she was.

It shocked her when he suddenly sped up, let go of her hand, and crashed into a bear hug with another man. It was genuine. As was his greeting to another equally imposing man. The
women with them flashed smiles and a lot of jewellery, and kissed him joyfully in the European fashion.

Maisy tried not to gape. They all spoke in Russian at once, and as the seconds ticked by she felt more and more excluded, although they were all darting looks at her, waiting for Alexei to introduce her. If she had felt more confident she would have enjoyed his clear enthusiasm in the moment, but instead it only underlined how differently he was treating her.

‘Hello,’ she said abruptly to the woman standing closest to her. ‘I’m Maisy.’

‘Stefania,’ said the girl, beaming at her, then darting a look at Alexei.

‘Maisy, this is Valery and Ivanka Abramov, and Stiva and Stefania Lieven. Maisy Edmonds.’

‘Alexei has told us absolutely nothing about you,’ said Stiva, giving Alexei a curious look.

‘Well, I’m sure we can get to know her now,’ interposed the brunette Ivanka.

She gave Maisy a wink, and instantly some of the tension in Maisy’s shoulders eased.

‘Your dress is gorgeous,’ Stefania joined in. ‘Who designed it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Maisy said, darting a nervous look towards Alexei. ‘Sorry.’

She could have kicked herself. She sounded like a complete moron. But the other girls were chattering on about designers, and the two men, although speaking to Alexei, kept glancing her way with reassuring smiles, helping her feel welcomed to their inner circle.

She appreciated their effort, but everything about these two couples screamed ‘married’ and it only made her feel more isolated. Not to mention the fact Stefania kept being roped back into Stiva’s arms, giggling and blushing. Anyone with eyes in their head could see they were in love. And, whilst Ivanka was more circumspect, there was an easy quality between her and Valery. All she and Alexei had was this wall, and she couldn’t
see over it, had no idea how to begin scaling it, and doubted it was ever going to come down.

After half an hour Ivanka drifted away to make a phone call regarding her children and Alexei moved Maisy on, although she could see he was reluctant. These were clearly his friends, and the people he had spoken of who would be staying at the house. The rest were the crowd. Yet he made his way dutifully through them and Maisy trailed him. Whenever he smiled at her or touched her it was for public consumption.

He detached himself from her after several introductions, making sure she had a glass of mineral water in her hand, brushing her fingertips with his lips—once more for show, she realised sadly. Fortunately she managed to drift and be drawn into one group or another. Everyone wanted to speak to her. Was she enjoying the Amalfi Coast? Alexei had gone unusually AWOL, and now everyone knew why. And who could blame him? This was a theme with few variations. It embarrassed her and she didn’t know what to say. She was offered champagne and took it. As she was propelled from one knot of people to another there was always another glass.

Then at last she was sitting down by herself, protected from the hot sun by an awning. She felt fuzzy from the champagne she had consumed for Dutch courage. Was it three glasses? Four? She’d lost count. Her glass had never seemed to be empty and she’d just kept sipping. Her shoes pinched and her face hurt from smiling.

‘You must be Maisy.’ A tall, slender woman in an almost transparent white shift was standing over her. Her black hair fell in a faultless waterfall to her shoulders. She was vaguely familiar. ‘We haven’t been introduced. Tara Mills.’

Maisy accepted the hand that was offered.

‘We have Alexei in common,’ she said, sitting down, crossing impossibly long and elegant tanned bare legs. Maisy drew her pale ones in under her. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Perhaps another woman would have thrown the contents
of her drink in Tara’s perfect face, but Maisy was feeling distinctly generous. So this was the former mistress.

‘I need another drink,’ she replied instead, looking around.

Tara merely lifted a hand and a waiter arrived with a tray of them. In any other circumstances it would have been funny. Tara and Alexei were perfectly matched. A snap of her fingers and the world came to a halt and then turned on its axis for Tara Mills.

Tara held out her glass and clinked Maisy’s. ‘To our mutual friend.’

‘He may be your friend but he’s not mine,’ she said without thinking.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Tara placed a slender hand on Maisy’s bare knee, drawing Maisy’s attention to its round curve in comparison to Tara’s bony leg.

‘No.’ Maisy felt driven to deny it and took a deep swallow. The alcohol buzzed through her system and she knew without a doubt the day was going to end badly.

‘You’re to do with the Kulikov baby, aren’t you?’ Tara set down her untouched glass. ‘He was obsessed with rescuing the little thing.’

‘Rescuing?’ Maisy echoed, letting down her guard.

‘Oh, you know what they’re like, the hyped-up brotherhood. As soon as news of Leo’s accident came in they were all lining up to adopt the boy. Alexei won. Alexei always wins, doesn’t he?’

Maisy tried to process this jigsaw of information. Alexei was Kostya’s godfather, but what on earth was the brotherhood?

‘What I’m
dying
to know—and you’re going to tell me, Maisy—is where you come into the picture. A little bird tells me you were the
nanny
, but that can’t be right. Alexei’s got too much class to sleep with the nanny.’

‘I don’t know,’ Maisy said fuzzily. ‘He slept with you. His standards must be pretty low.’

Tara didn’t blink. ‘Oh, Maisy, you’re a funny little thing.

Make sure he puts your goodbye package into shares—they’ll last longer.’

Suddenly Maisy was so very glad he had never given her any jewellery. All of that stuff she’d worn she considered on loan. Tara was wearing a single sapphire pendant that hung low between her small high breasts, but all Maisy could see was the diamonds she had seen in the magazine photograph. He had bought Tara. Just as he’d bought this luxury yacht.

He didn’t buy me
, she told herself.
That’s the difference. He didn’t buy me
.

Tara stood up. ‘Just one more word of advice, Maisy. Today? He invited me.’

Maisy spilled her champagne. She stared blankly as the liquid soaked into her expensive lap, darkening into a wide stain.

‘Oh, honey.’ It was Ivanka, instantly at her side, putting the glass to one side, sliding a maternal arm around her waist. ‘We need to fix you up. Can you walk?’

Maisy nodded, unable to speak because she needed all her concentration to keep herself together and take a step, and then another. She was grateful for Ivanka’s sturdy arm around her waist and her knowledge of the yacht. When they reached one of the staterooms Ivanka led her straight to the bathroom.

‘Take off the dress. We need to soak the stain.’

As Maisy hesitated Ivanka grinned at her. ‘You really are a sweetheart. I’ll fetch you a robe.’

Stripped, Maisy waited in her knickers, arms crossed over her bare breasts. She ventured out into the stateroom, feeling distinctly woozy. For a moment she couldn’t move because a man was standing in the doorway. He said something in a foreign language and Maisy made a sound, stumbling back into the bathroom and slamming shut the door. She leaned against it, terrified of what was going on. She didn’t know how long she waited, heart pounding, before there was a brief knock on the door.

‘Maisy, it’s Ivanka.’

Maisy slid away from the door. She wrapped the robe around
herself gratefully. ‘There was a man in the doorway,’ she said shakily. ‘He saw me.’

Ivanka swore quietly. She squeezed Maisy’s hand. ‘You’re okay?’

‘I think I’m drunk.’

‘Yeah, I saw Baba Yaga casting her evil spell. Don’t believe anything she told you, Maisy. She’s had a hard time adjusting to life post-Ranaevsky.’

I can imagine
, thought Maisy drearily. She was feeling distinctly light-headed. The room was beginning to spin.

‘I think I need to lie down,’ she revealed shakily.

‘Right.’

Ivanka got her to the bed, and the moment Maisy’s head touched the pillow the whole room started to lurch. She groaned. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she pleaded.

‘I’ve got your back, honey.’ The mattress sank a little as Ivanka perched beside her. ‘You don’t drink, I take it?’

‘No.’

‘Well, Tara Mills would drive anyone to it. You know …’ She stroked Maisy’s temple. ‘I think he picks them because they’re the last women in the world who’ll get under his skin. Which makes you a freaking miracle.’

Maisy suddenly wished she was a million miles from drunk. This woman knew the secrets of the universe, and this was her chance to make sense of them.

Ivanka smiled at her, as if sensing her unspoken need to know. ‘My husband Valery—you met him earlier,’ she prompted. ‘He and Alexei go right back to the orphanage.’

Orphanage? Maisy’s eyes snapped open. ‘Is this something to do with the brotherhood?’

‘Brotherhood? Oh, Tara strikes again. There is no brotherhood. It’s just the four boys—well, three now that Leo’s gone.’ Ivanka crossed herself reflexively.

Maisy’s tired brain did some quick turns. Orphanage in Russia. Four boys. Suddenly Alexei’s life opened up before her and darkness rushed in. The dreams. Last night. The way he
was behaving today. Maybe it wasn’t about her. She thought she was the centre of his life because he was hers. But it wasn’t about her.

An orphanage?

He never talked about his family and she had never asked, afraid he would ask about hers. Now she wished she had—wished she had shown more courage.

‘I didn’t know,’ she said heavily.

Ivanka smiled, looking at her curiously. ‘He hasn’t told you? I’m not surprised. I didn’t get the entire story for a year—a full year, might I add—into my marriage. It took me a difficult pregnancy to get it out of Valery. And Alexei’s a whole different kettle of fish. Need-to-know basis.’

‘I need to know.’ Maisy tried to sit up, but Ivanka laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

‘Lie still. You’ll only feel worse. Here’s the deal. The boys met up in an orphanage as kids. You can’t know what Russian orphanages are like, Maisy. It’s not like here or in England. It’s pretty primitive. The story goes Alexei broke them out and the boys lived independently on the city streets, sleeping in parks, cemeteries, anywhere they could. Basements of public buildings in the long winters.’

Maisy did sit up now. ‘But what about the authorities? Wasn’t anything done?’

‘No one cared, Maisy. Homeless children are everywhere in my country. Valery says if it wasn’t for Alexei they’d all be dead. He had that “survival of the fittest” instinct even at eight.’

‘Eight?’ Maisy framed the word, not quite believing it. ‘And no parents?’

‘Oh, Alexei had parents. I think that’s what made him as tough as he is. His father took off when he was very young, and his mother just came home one day and told him she was going on a little break for a few days and would be back for him. She never came.’

‘What happened to her?’ Maisy asked, aware she wasn’t going to like the answer.

‘Who knows? Probably a new man, a better opportunity. She’d have been finding it hard to ply her trade with a seven-year-old boy around her neck.’

‘Her trade?’

‘She was a prostitute.’

Maisy suddenly really didn’t want to be having this conversation with Ivanka. She didn’t know her. She knew Alexei would consider what she was doing a betrayal, but what choice did she have if he wouldn’t talk to her about any of this?

His mother had abandoned him. A seven-year-old. Instantly a much younger Alexei flashed into her mind—a little boy with innocent blue eyes and long lashes and a frail child’s body, trying to survive those Russian winters without anyone to protect him. It was that stark. And it suddenly made absolute sense that he would storm Lantern Square with a truckload of security. He was doing for Kostya what nobody had done for him.

‘How did they survive?’

‘Cunning, street smarts, not knowing anything else.’ Ivanka gave a little shrug, but Maisy could see how much it affected the other woman to talk about it. ‘Valery and Stiva ended up back in an institution, but then Alexei and Leo got lucky. The Kulikovs took them in. They made Leo their son.’

‘And Alexei?’

‘They had other children. It was decided Alexei was too far gone. He’d be a bad influence.’ Ivanka spoke matter-of-factly. ‘He was running a cigarette scam for a local crime boss by the time he was eleven, Maisy. I don’t blame Marfa Kulikov one bit. But she always opened up her home to the boys on holidays, gave them all a break from the relentlessness of their lives. Probably saved Alexei’s life. I know for a fact he still lights a candle for her on her saint’s day.’