The Only Woman to Defy Him

CHAPTER FOURTEEN


THE WORLD WASN’T KIND, Alina decided.

A kind world should surely follow certain rules.

There should only be ancient magazines in doctors’ waiting rooms.

Not glossy up-to-date ones with photos of Demyan and his son, walking along, both smiling, their breath blowing white in the cold Russian winter.

She flicked the page and stared down the long lens of the paparazzi and into the ritzy restaurant where he sat, chinking glasses with Nadia and Roman.

But was he happy?

Her eyes searched his features and Alina truly didn’t know.

Probably.

Demyan didn’t exactly laugh easily but in that photo in the restaurant, with Nadia and Roman, he clearly was.

Would it make it easier if she thought he was acting, that he’d gone back to Nadia rather than lose his family?

‘Ms Ritchie?’

Alina stood as her name was called and followed the doctor into her office.

There was so much hurt that all Alina felt was numb.

‘I’m pregnant.’

Of course, the doctor wouldn’t take her word for it and Alina handed over the mandatory urine sample and gave dates and things as they waited for the predictor to change.

‘You certainly are!’ The doctor hesitated and glanced at her lethargic and rather pale patient. ‘Are congratulations in order?’

‘They will be one day.’ Alina said. ‘It’s just a bit tough right now. I was on the Pill but...’ She shrugged. No, she hadn’t set out to trap him, just a little white pill had been so easy to forget when you were preparing to step onto a red carpet and falling in love when you had promised yourself you wouldn’t. All that should have been important and sensible had disappeared, thanks to the most dizzying, complicated man.

‘The baby’s father...’ the doctor probed.

‘Is back with his ex-wife.’

Oh, it was a sorry tale and no doubt to the doctor it was a familiar one.

‘He still has responsibilities.’

Alina gave a tired shake of her head.

‘Have you told him?’

‘He’s moved overseas. He was only visiting Australia for a couple of weeks,’ Alina said.

Foolish girl.

And, yes, one day she’d have to tell her child who its father was, but the future felt a terribly long way off when you were having trouble getting your keys out of your handbag.

There was one good thing about having a broken heart, though, one good thing about insomnia and a heart that was so bruised Alina was aware of each painful beat.

Her artwork.

She ran, to herself.

Alina moved out from Cathy’s and rented a tiny apartment but it was her tiny apartment. It was bliss to have her work left out, to have things untouched and no parties or noise as she lost herself in her work.


In her paintings she found herself day after day, night after night.

Buds of lilac that tasted of his kisses, and sunflowers and yellow roses and willows that dipped into water, but that wasn’t right...

Yes, she had stuff to sort out too. Demyan had been right because she painted holly and not with Christmas in mind. It meant—am I forgotten?

It was for her father, not that he’d ever see it, and the prickles cut deep as Alina shaded them in.

Then her heart returned to Demyan.

She painted and painted—Yellow Chartreuse liqueur that had rolled on his tongue, but in Alina’s style. She explored the flowers in the secret recipe that had graced his lips, the violets and saffron, the sharpness of citrus that had been the ingredients when there had been Nothing Left to Lose.

She had everything to lose now.

Alina cried as she painted their story, but they were healthy tears, good tears as he escaped through her fingers and, like the tiny life inside her, Alina grew.

So lost in her work was Alina she nearly didn’t hear her phone but whoever it was they were persistent.

‘Alina, it’s Elizabeth.’ Alina stared at the piece she was working on as Elizabeth spoke on. ‘I have a very exciting offer just in. Two months in Dubai and there’s a substantial bonus for you at the end.’ Alina swallowed as she considered it.

The money was amazing and her pregnancy wasn’t showing yet. She could return in eight weeks with security, except she had a stall booked to display her work. The easiest thing would be to say yes, yet she could almost see Demyan’s black smile as she took the easy option.

‘Alina?’

‘Elizabeth, it sounds amazing but I’m going to have to say no. I’ve got other work organised.’

She almost called Elizabeth back. Her work at the café might last a while longer, but single motherhood and waitressing at night wasn’t exactly a mix. She could get ahead now, Alina told herself, and concentrate on her artwork once the baby was here... She was so torn that she answered the phone without thinking, and then she heard a voice that had her heart racing all over again, propelling her to run, just as she should have the first night outside the restaurant.

‘Alina...’

She almost folded over at the sound of his voice.

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling you. I just wanted to see if you were okay.’

That was a lie. Not a complete one. He needed to know that she was okay, but more than that he needed to hear her voice, a voice that had always soothed him.

Just not today.

‘Why wouldn’t I be okay, Demyan?’ Alina’s voice was sharp, bitter but better that than broken. ‘Oh, that’s right, sorry, I forgot, I’m supposed to be pining.’

‘Alina,’ he said.

‘Curled up on the bed, or drowning my sorrows in wine. Sorry to disappoint you...’

‘You never once have.’

She closed her eyes at the slight huskiness she heard near the end, which told her that he was hurting too.

And to make herself strong Alina picked up the magazine she’d swiped from the doctor’s and stared at the images.

I hate you, Nadia.

Alina had never really hated in her life, but she looked at the supposed beauty and was filled with loathing at a woman who could use her child as a pawn.

And Alina wasn’t one for double standards, which meant she wouldn’t be using her own child either.

She’d tell Demyan about the baby when she was safely over him, when she could do it without breaking down.

‘What do you want, Demyan?’ she demanded, and when the line was silent, her bitterness spilled over like black champagne, ‘How’s Nadia?’

‘Alina. I know how it looks—’

‘You know nothing,’ Alina hissed, and hung up the phone.