Alexei gave Kostya his promised three days. He introduced him to the sea, held his tiny barrel-shaped body in the gently breaking surf as it creamed the shore and built sandcastles for the sea to destroy.
Maisy sheltered under a huge hat and a billowy sheer shirt—the sun had never been kind to her—and feasted her eyes on Alexei in a pair of low-slung board shorts that did nothing to curb her X-rated thoughts. His golden tan made a mockery of her pale, lightly freckled skin. She could blame the heat of the day for her hot flush as he strode up the beach to where she sat under an umbrella, her trashy novel fluttering in the breeze, but his gaze told her otherwise, locking on the sumptuous curves of her breasts and hips in the flattering fifties-style bikini.
Last night had shifted something in their relationship. The tensions between them seemed to have evaporated, and on this private beach, in the full glare of the late-afternoon sun, Maisy felt an enormous clutch of contentment and the wicked stir of her body. It was as if her body was suddenly fully awake after a long sleep, and like Sleeping Beauty she was in thrall to her prince. Her gloriously built prince, with his slumberous smile and Tartar eyes eating her up as she fumbled in her bag for sunscreen to reapply to Kostya’s sand-encrusted nose.
It was her rule that they shouldn’t show physical affection in front of Kostya, but it was a rule she was regretting as six and a half feet of Russian male stretched himself out on the lounger beside her, his long, lean body glistening with seawater and sand, his lashes wet and black, framing his brilliant eyes. He lay there watching her, looking immensely relaxed and happy. The grim, tense Alexei had been banished. She had fallen asleep in the arms of a looser-limbed, becalmed man, and so he remained.
Kostya settled on the sand within the circumference of the umbrella and dug with a stick, making comments about the ant he was tracking. Alexei extended his hand and Maisy broke her rule, giving him hers. The peace and serenity of the moment settled very deeply over them.
It was, Maisy realised, sanctuary.
‘I have to fly to Geneva on Friday,’ he told her, his voice a register deeper, tugging on those muscles deep down inside her. It made her smile, and a response flared in his eyes. ‘I want you to come with me.’
‘I think Kostya and I should stay here,’ she answered reluctantly. ‘He’s just starting to settle in. It would be wrong to disturb him.’
‘Maria can look after him. It’s only for a couple of days and a night.’
The night. He wanted her for the night. Maisy’s toes curled with delight.
‘A night too long.’ She bit her lip, wishing it could be different. ‘I can’t leave him, Alexei.’
‘No.’ He looked out at the blue horizon, but Maisy knew he wasn’t admiring the view. ‘No,’ he said again, his chest heaving in a deep sigh.
‘You don’t mind?’ She wished she didn’t sound so anxious. It made her sound needy and insecure.
‘I mind, but I understand.’ His thumb was running up and down over the palm of her hand. ‘Leo didn’t have parents for the first eight years of his life. It might explain why he didn’t have as much time for his son as he probably should have. I won’t make that mistake.’
Maisy stared at him. She hadn’t known that, but Alexei’s admission went a long way to healing the wound his words the other night had opened. So he did believe her—or was giving her the benefit of the doubt.
‘But I travel a lot, Maisy. Kostya is going to have to get used to that.’
She tried to ignore the absence of herself in that statement. After all, what was between them wasn’t for ever. But it was life for Kostya. ‘Maybe in a few weeks, when he’s secure?’ she suggested.
‘A week. He can have a week. Then I want you with me. I can’t bring my life to a standstill, Maisy. It doesn’t work that way.’ He softened his tone. ‘Besides, you’ll go crazy here on your own. You need me to keep you entertained.’
‘How entertaining will it be if you’re working?’
‘New York, Paris, Rome, Prague. Don’t you want to see those cities?’
‘I want to be with you,’ said Maisy simply, because it was the truth.
He didn’t answer her, but his hand remained secure around her own, and for all the tenuousness of her situation Maisy felt he would continue to hold her hand through this whole experience. She wouldn’t think about it now—how it would be when he finally let her go.
CHAPTER NINE
‘YOU smell so good.’ They were in the apartment he kept in the fifth arrondissement of Paris. It had spectacular views, taking in the Seine and the spires of Notre Dame. It was the first time Maisy had been here and she was not a little overwhelmed by it all. She had expected sleek lines and into-the-future modernity from Alexei, but all around her was restrained Louis XVI cream-and-gold luxury.