Before Flora knew what was happening, she felt a bony arm around her neck. She was yanked back so violently that it took her breath away. “You’re that flower harlot,” a male voice hissed in her right ear. The man’s breath reeked, and Flora instinctively held her breath. “I’ve been watchin’ you for a long time, seen you dancin’ round the rich folk while the likes of us go hungry.”
Friedrich! Help me! Someone, anyone, help! Flora wanted to scream, but she could not make a sound. She wanted to kick at the man behind her, to hurt him as he was hurting her, but she was paralyzed with fear. The arm around her neck was choking her.
“Give me yer money!” the man snarled and squeezed even harder. Flora whimpered, gurgled, and was on the verge of throwing up when the man loosened his grip. “Hand it over.”
With trembling hands, Flora picked up her purse from the basket and handed it to the man, whose eyes sparked greedily. She gathered up her skirt to try to run, but before she could take a single step, he grabbed her by the chin with a dirty paw and turned her face to his.
“You’re not bad lookin’ at all. If you’re good enough for the Russians, you’re good enough for me.” He let out a husky laugh, and a wave of bad breath washed over her.
“No, leave me alone, I—” Flora tried to break free, but he dragged her to the first bush behind the bridge and pushed her to the ground. Flora’s knee slammed down on a stone, and the pain was so intense it made her dizzy.
My child! I have to protect my child! The thought shot through Flora like a bolt of lightning before she passed out.
Nine already! Irina’s birthday party would already be in full swing. But so what? thought Konstantin as he strolled along Lichtenthaler Allee. He had no interest in putting on a cheery face and bantering the evening away. Was it because the season was nearing its end and he did not know what was coming next? Or was the news he had heard earlier responsible for his frame of mind?
It looked as if the casino’s days were truly numbered. Piotr had mentioned that afternoon that the silver ball would roll for the last time on October 31 . . . unbelievable!
One thing was certain: he had no interest in wasting his time in just any old spa town. He needed amusement, games, entertainment. And places that offered all those things were also to be found in other parts of the world.
The only question was whether he would ever get to see those parts of the world.
He had tried several times to pin Püppi down on where she would spend the winter, but she did not know where she wanted to go.
As he stepped onto the bridge that crossed the Oos to the Hotel Stéphanie, he spied the hazy outlines of two people. A man and a woman in a close embrace. The man was leading the woman off into the bushes.
Konstantin grinned. The passion of the lovers seemed to be a matter of urgency. He sighed deeply. It had been a long time since he had felt such feelings for a woman. To be so aroused as to be unable to think clearly, and only able to feel, taste, smell . . . skin, hair, feminine curves . . .
Should he take the next bridge and avoid disturbing the couple? Konstantin looked toward them again.
Strange . . . the woman seemed to be resisting. Yes, and the man was dragging her along! Something wasn’t right.
Damn it, that was no couple. The woman needed help!
Konstantin broke into a run.
Shouting. Her head against the hard ground. Her knee, throbbing. The arms of the man, no longer so tightly around her, maybe she would manage it, to break free . . . Flora’s eyelids fluttered. She tried feverishly to come to her senses, to breathe. Her child. She had to think of her child, to protect it.
She jerked her eyes open, started to beat the man wildly with her fists.
“Let me go! You filthy man!”
“Little flower girl! It’s me, just me,” she heard. A different voice, vaguely familiar.
“You?” When Flora saw who it was holding her in his arms, she almost fainted a second time from the shock.
“Yes, me. Everything is all right.” Konstantin rocked her in his arms like a child, brushed the hair out of her face. “The man’s gone. I sent him packing. Flora, that’s your name, isn’t it? Are you all right?”
Flora tried to nod, tried to thank the man for his kindness, but instead she burst into tears.
“If you hadn’t come along, then . . . then . . . that beast would have—” Her words broke off into loud sobbing.
“Easy now, easy now. I’ll look after you.”
Flora sniffed and bawled. First that horrible man and now Konstantin Sokerov. She let out a wail, then could not catch her breath, could not compose herself.
The slap on her right cheek came without warning. The second on her left, too.
Flora instantly fell silent. She stared at Konstantin wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry. I had to bring you back to your senses somehow.” A lopsided grin accompanied his words.
Flora was suddenly all too aware of how terrible she must look. The snot and the tears. Her disheveled hair, bleeding knee, rumpled skirt.
“Thank you for helping me,” she murmured. She tried to stand up and wipe the mud from her skirt and—where was her basket? Her money? Was her baby unharmed?
She staggered, her head spinning, and sank to the ground again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“It’s the shock. It’s deep in you, down to your bones. Allow me.” Before she knew it, Konstantin had taken out his handkerchief and with a light touch dabbed away her tears and the snot, wiped the spittle from the corners of her mouth. Then he tried to bring some order to her hair, combing it with his fingers, but they kept catching in the tangled mop. He laughed.
“You’ll just have to live with being an untamed beauty! Shall I take you to the police so you can report the robbery? Or do you want to go home? Or . . . could you do with a vodka for the shock of it all, like me?”
“Could it be . . . a small schnapps?” Flora squeaked.
A short time later, they were sitting at a table in the back of a wine bar. The waiter had started momentarily at Flora’s somewhat unkempt appearance, but then brought them their drinks without a word.
“I’m angriest at myself. Friedrich warned me that there’d been a vagrant around. I should have been more careful,” said Flora. She had drained her schnapps in a single draft, and it ran hot and soothing down her throat. “Instead, I almost let that man defile me.”
“He certainly defiled your dress,” said Konstantin, pointing to Flora’s soiled skirt.
Flora let out a laugh. “Thank you for reminding me how elegant I look.”
“It’s really not so bad. That pale lilac suits you, by the way,” he said, picking a bit of moss from the sleeve of her dress.
Flora, abashed, took a sip of water. “It’s the color of my favorite flower, the cuckooflower. In the language of flowers, it stands for charm and esprit.” She shrugged. “I thought I could use a little of both this evening.” At Konstantin’s prompting, she began to tell him about Irina’s party, and very soon about her failed expectations.
“I actually believed the kaiserin would see my flowers and jump for joy.” Flora felt her face redden with her mortification. She sighed. “Florist to Her Imperial Highness—that would have been a dream. But dreams burst like bubbles, don’t they? This evening, I also heard a rumor that the casino is closing its doors. If that’s true, then I can forget a second dream, too. I would have loved to tie a few particularly beautiful bouquets for those elegant gaming rooms, just once.” What was she prattling on about? She did not know this man at all or anything about him, except that he was Princess Stropolski’s escort and that he had rescued Flora not so many minutes earlier. She had to be getting home. Friedrich was already waiting for her, no doubt. What was she supposed to say to him? Would he be angry that she allowed herself to be robbed? And the money . . . Thank God she had only a little change with her.
Konstantin’s harsh laugh dragged her out of her brooding. “At least you have lofty dreams to forget! Lofty dreams . . . sometimes I wonder if I ever had any.”