Theo noticed at least a dozen staterooms, and living quarters for the seventy-five crew members she said lived and worked onboard. Four full-time chefs, and twenty sous-chefs. He was startled to see an entire cold room where a full-time florist worked, making arrangements for every room on the boat. They had their own fire department, a huge room for all the security guards, a gigantic laundry and dry cleaning facility, a luggage room for all their bags, and another where all the uniforms for the crew were kept and dispensed, with three attendants. There were different uniforms for every job and rank.
She showed him a movie theater that could accommodate fifty, with large comfortable chairs that swiveled, and several locked rooms she didn’t explain to him. He wondered if weaponry was involved since one was next to the security guards’ position. It seemed obvious to him that a man as rich and powerful as Vladimir would have arms on the boat to protect him. And they ended up at the wheelhouse, where the captain and several officers were talking amiably in front of radar screens and state-of-the-art computers and electronic equipment. The captain was British, as were most of the officers, but Theo had noticed that there were many Russian crew members too, and all the security guards were Russian. There were deckhands from Russia, the Philippines, Australia, and New Zealand. The kitchen staff was all Italian. And he heard a veritable United Nations of languages spoken, from French to Chinese, as they walked through, though mostly Russian.
Natasha greeted all of them as though she knew them, and they were polite and respectful to her. She clearly had an important position. She wasn’t just some bimbo or pretty face brought on to entertain Vladimir. He was the lord and master here, but she was the lady of the house, and it was obvious that they liked her, with her gentle ways. She didn’t show off as she took him around, or put on airs. She was simple and casual, and acted like an ordinary person. When they got back to the outdoor bar where the tour had started, she offered him champagne. He accepted but didn’t know what to say. He had never seen anything like it, and it had taken them nearly an hour to tour the gigantic boat. It was as intricate and complete as a cruise ship, but so much more beautiful. And every single thing in it was of the finest quality, from the art to the fabrics, the furniture, and the priceless objects scattered around as part of the décor. Vladimir had an eye for beauty in all things. And Natasha was proof of that as well. Theo couldn’t help wondering what it was like to live in his exalted world and be part of such a dazzling machine.
“It really is incredible, and even bigger than it looks from onshore,” he said admiringly as he accepted the glass of champagne she handed him.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Do you like boats?” she asked, curious about him too, and he laughed as he answered.
“I do, but I’ve never been on one this big.” It was an entirely self-contained world, almost like a city. And she hadn’t taken him to their suite, or Vladimir’s office, which were never part of any tour, but she had shown him everything else. And he noticed that the security guards had disappeared once the painting had been delivered. They hadn’t brought any guards to the restaurant either, which surprised him. He imagined that for a man as rich as Vladimir, security must be a constant issue, but he didn’t comment on it. “Thank you for the tour,” he said as they sat down on the couch, and looked at the coastline quietly for a minute. He liked being there with her. She seemed like a sweet person, and when he looked into her eyes, they were wide open and clear, and she looked intrigued by him too.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment, as he felt himself being inexorably drawn to her, and for an insane moment, he wondered what would happen if he kissed her. He would probably be grabbed by a dozen bodyguards and thrown overboard, or maybe killed, he mused to himself, and then laughed at the insane fantasy. She smiled at him as though she could read his thoughts, and what attracted him to her most was that while she was sensual and beautiful, there was nothing vulgar or overtly sexy about her. She was the most delicate woman he had ever seen, and she seemed innocent somehow, as though she wasn’t really part of any of this, and yet she was, and lived with the man who had created it and could afford to pay for it, and four other boats, and several houses that were just as legendary. He wanted to ask her what it was like to live like this, but didn’t dare. They finished their champagne quietly, and then she stood up. She seemed more relaxed than she had the night before, and was clearly at home on the enormous boat, with an army of crew members around her to meet her every need.
She walked him to the lower deck, and smiled at him as he got into the tender. The sailors onboard were already gunning the engines, ready to take off, as he wondered if he would ever see her again, and doubted that he would. Even if she came to the restaurant, he wouldn’t be there—he would be at home painting in his studio. And then she thought of something right before he left.
“I forgot to ask your name.” She looked like a child as she smiled at him. They had spent nearly two hours together without introduction.
“Theo.”
“Natasha,” she said, sounding very Russian. “Goodbye, Theo. Thank you.” He didn’t know it, but she was thanking him for two hours as a normal person, talking about ordinary things, even as they toured Vladimir’s boat. She never got to spend time with people like him, and had given up the opportunity to ever do that when she became Vladimir’s mistress. She lived in the lofty isolation of his universe now, and renounced mundane pursuits like coffee or drinks or even lunch with a friend, or laughing about silly, unimportant things. She lived in the shadows of Vladimir’s life, far from the nightmare of her youth but also far from an everyday life. She was like a precious jewel being kept in a safe and was rarely out in public.
She waved as the tender pulled away, and ran back upstairs on light feet. She stood at the rail, and watched the tender speed back to the dock at the hotel, and he turned to look at her, and saw her like a speck at the rail, her hair flying in the breeze, as they took distance from the yacht and approached the shore. And then at last she walked away from the rail, and he couldn’t see her anymore. All he had left was the memory of two hours in her company, a memory he was sure he would cherish forever.
—
On the drive back to his studio, after assuring Gabriel and his mother that the painting had been delivered, he decided to stop and visit Chloe. Part of him didn’t want to see anyone after spending two hours with Natasha. He didn’t want anything to spoil it, or intrude on his mental vision of her. And another part of him wanted to reenter reality and get both feet on terra firma again. His mother had been somewhat right—women like Natasha were fatally attractive and totally unattainable. He needed to touch a real woman now. One who wasn’t out of his reach. And Chloe seemed like a simple solution.
He pulled up in front of her house, and walked into her studio. She was drinking a glass of wine, and had just finished work for the day. She was completing some commercial canvases that she had promised to a bath shop in St. Tropez. She turned in surprise when he walked in.