The Only Woman to Defy Him

CHAPTER TEN


ALINA WOKE TO the sound of Demyan talking on the phone. He was speaking mainly in English but his sentences were peppered with Russian words and when he turned off the phone and sat on the edge of the bed, Alina had already worked out he’d been speaking with his son.

‘That was Roman,’ Demyan said.

‘That’s nice.’

‘He wants to meet. Probably for another row but better that than...’ He gave a tight shrug. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

‘It’s fine.’ Alina said. ‘It’s good that he called.’

Demyan gave a small nod and she found she was holding her breath, waiting for him to say something, to let her a little bit into that part of his life.

‘You’ll miss him...’ Alina attempted.

Demyan didn’t answer.

‘Can I ask...?’ She didn’t even finish her sentence as his eyes told her that she couldn’t enquire about his son, about the reasons he wasn’t fighting to keep him. ‘You tell me to be myself.’ Alina looked at him. ‘Well, she has questions.’

‘Alina...’ Demyan actually wanted to tell her but how could he? It was the most dangerous secret and Demyan was doing everything he knew how to contain it.

‘Yes?’ She stared back at him. ‘You said my name. Alina. Generally it’s followed by something.’

‘Not this time.’ Demyan stood and went to kiss her but she moved her head.

Last night had been the best night of her life yet this morning all that she felt was cheap.

Alina tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t.

She ordered breakfast but could only pick at it.

Was she supposed to just lie here and wait? He wouldn’t come back, Alina was sure of it, and if he did—for what?

Certainly not conversation.

It was then that Libby called her with the news that an offer had been made on the penthouse, one so good that Alina didn’t have the authority to decline.

‘I’ll put it to Demyan,’ she said, and hung up the phone.

It was over.

She climbed out of bed and picked up her dress.

Of course he’d torn it.

Well, she wouldn’t be walking out with her breast exposed. She’d damn well ring down for some clothing to be sent and charge it to his bottomless pit.

Alina headed to the shower and stood under the stream of water and started sobbing.

She just stood there sobbing, not because of last night but because of tomorrow and the next day and then the next one.

After Demyan.

He let himself in and sat on the bed and heard her sobbing. Demyan put his head in his hands. Her tears did not distress him. After all Roman had just said, Alina’s sobs matched his mood.

Every shudder from her lips felt like his head, every angry moan felt as if it was coming from him, but he remained silent.

Under any other circumstance Alina would be mortified to have been caught so bitterly crying but as she stepped into the bedroom, though at first she was startled to see him sitting on the bed, as he looked up, his grief was so evident that there was no room for embarrassment.

Fear had her running to him. For a second she actually thought his son must have died.

‘You are the only person I can discuss this with...’ His voice was hoarse. It was a shocking admission for him; he even hesitated now from revealing it.

He never asked another for advice.

Yet he wasn’t his mother—where his son was concerned, Demyan was not too proud to ask for help. Instead, he was strong enough to change and so he forced himself to continue.

‘You are the only person I feel can speak with. For the first time, I honestly don’t know what to do.’

Oh.

Life had been one constant surprise since she’d met Demyan but perhaps this was the biggest of them all.

‘Roman might not be mine.’

Alina was wet from the shower, on his knee, trying to scramble, to shoot down fears, to give an instant solution. ‘He is.’

‘He might not be.’

‘There’s DNA.’

‘And then what?’ He tipped her from his knee and stood, almost appalled by his own revelation. Yet the words had finally been said and he turned to look at Alina, who was pulling on a dressing gown, trying to wrap her head around what he had told her.

‘Does Roman know?’ Alina asked.

‘No. This morning he asked why I am letting him go to Russia, why I don’t put up a fight. He thinks I don’t love him...’

‘Then you have to let him know that you do.’

‘If only it were that simple.’

‘Demyan, you’re involved, it could never be that simple,’ Alina said, and he knew then he had chosen wisely. He even managed a pale smile before explaining some more. ‘For a long time Nadia has wanted me to get back with her.’


Alina tried to ignore the squeeze of fear to her heart as this was not about her.

‘When I refused to even discuss things she said she was marrying Vladimir and taking Roman to Russia to live. Of course I told her that would never happen. I don’t want him in Russia, his home is here...’ Demyan closed his eyes as dark memories swirled, there was nothing nice he could remember about his homeland.

‘I knew she was trying to make me jealous, I said that I would have a stop put on Roman’s passport and that I would contact Mikael. I said that I wanted my son to finish his schooling here, that when he was eighteen then he could make a decision but till then...’ Grey eyes were black now when they turned to Alina. ‘It was then that she told me there was a very good chance that Roman was not my son. To challenge her legally I would have to find out if Roman is mine.’

‘He already is.’

Her simple statement halted him and Alina spoke on.

‘That’s never going to change. You were there when he was born, you told me you were, all the memories you’ve made, all those times you’ve shared can’t be erased by some test.’

‘Not for me,’ Demyan said. ‘But what if it changes things for Roman? I can’t stand to lose him.’

‘But you are already,’ Alina said. ‘In his eyes, you’re doing nothing and so this way you are.’

Demyan could not stand it, there was no solution that he could see and his mind always sought a solution. He always controlled situations but now, when it mattered the most, he was shackled by the ghosts in the closet. Perhaps he hadn’t chosen so wisely, for Alina was suggesting that he let those ghosts of the past out.

‘I think you have to speak with him,’ Alina said. ‘I think he has to know the truth.’

‘You think, do you?’ Demyan was at his derisive best but she refused to be deterred.

‘Do you want my thoughts or not?’

He did.

‘Not here,’ Demyan said. He was sick of hotels, they all looked the same, they all felt the same.

He wanted home.