Slava looked out of the bridge window as he maneuvered his boat out of the harbor in Tallinn. He looked at Octavia and knew he would love her forever. He would tell her when they reached London.
His boat was a sixty-five-foot luxury yacht called Serene. It had five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a sitting room, and a dining room. When servants were on board, they brought the food from the galley to the dining room in the elevator. The bridge where Slava and Octavia were sitting was full of all the latest gadgets.
“So tell me all about what happened,” he asked.
“It was quite surreal actually. I told my bodyguard I was going to spend the night with a friend. The security team has waited outside friends’ houses before while I've stayed the night, and this time was no exception.” Octavia took great pleasure in relating the story of her escape, and Slava could see it in her face. “All I did was go into my friend's house and then out via a bathroom window. I got a taxi to the airport and flew here.”
“No questions asked?”
“No. A few people recognized me, but nobody of any importance who could have stopped me.”
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Lots of times. But make the most of it. I'll soon have an enormous belly and you won't want to come near me.”
“You're wrong there. You'll be so sexy; I won't be able to keep my hands off you.”
“Where are we going first? I mean, we have the whole world see,” Octavia said.
“I have a surprise for my budding writer. All I'm saying is that we're going to London.”
“Not England; it rains all the time. Can't you take me somewhere warm?”
“Just believe me, you'll enjoy yourself there.”
“All right. I'll bow to your superior knowledge. Now can the captain's assistant get a kiss?”
“And who will you write your first novel about?”
“A man who is good looking and charming and who any woman could love without fear.”
“Me?”
She laughed. “Of course you.”
When the boat pulled into the Thames Estuary, Slava was weary. Octavia had gone to bed some three hours earlier, but he was determined to make it to Milby Marina in London before dawn. In the dark, one of the busiest rivers in the world was a tricky place to navigate, but despite fatigue, Slava kept his concentration.
Two hours later, the yacht was safely tied to the dock in London's most exclusive harbor. Slava climbed out of the captain's chair and went on deck to get some fresh air. He was disappointed to see that his yacht wasn't the biggest there. He consoled himself with the feeling it was, at least, the third biggest in one of the world’s richest cities.
The fresh air did him good, and he was soon ready to sleep. He hadn't had much time to think about what he and Octavia had done, but he was convinced they had done the right thing. In the bedroom, he quickly undressed. When he slipped into bed, he cuddled up to Octavia, who let out a little hello and promptly fell asleep again. When Slava put his hand on her swollen belly, he knew everything was going to be all right, and he drifted into a deep sleep.
“So, here we are in London,” Octavia said as she poured herself some coffee. “What have you got planned for me?” she asked, eager to know what secret Slava had been keeping from her.
“It's twelve o'clock. Let me get a shower and then we'll be on our way.”
“Okay. I'm coming to watch you in the shower. Will you...you know...?”
“If you want me to,” he said eagerly.
*****
“Slava, please tell me where we are going. We've been driving for hours.”
The man from the luxury limousine for hire company had told Slava he would send his finest limo and driver. It seemed he had kept his promise. They were sitting in a top-of-the-line Mercedes with leather seats, a TV, and mini bar. As Slava sipped his iced water, Octavia eye's drank in the English countryside.
“It's very green, isn't it? Quite beautiful. Unlike anything I've seen back in the States.”
“Or in Russia. I suppose it's all the water that falls from the sky. Look at that green field there; it really is bright green,” Slava replied.
After two hours they arrived at their destination. Octavia was extremely puzzled; they were in a village in the middle of nowhere. The driver pulled up, got out, and opened the door for Octavia.
“Slava, if you don't tell me where we are, I'm going to divorce you.” It just slipped out—a joke—but nonetheless, Slava heard it and took it as a hint of what their status really should be.
“We've come to look at a museum.”
“You dragged me all the way here for some stuffy old museum?” she said.
“No, not some stuffy old museum. Here, read the sign.”
“Jane Austen Museum,” Octavia read out loud. Then she suddenly realized: It was the home of one of the greatest writers of romantic fiction to have ever lived. “Oh, Slava, thank you. How thoughtful of you. I'm ashamed of myself for being so grumpy.” When she began to weep with joy, Slava took her in his arms and held her tightly.