“What are you doing for the rest of the summer?” Yuri asked her, with a wide smile. She was sure he was a nice person, but he got on her nerves. He was a little crass, definitely a rough diamond, and was always in competition with Vladimir. He had always had a weak spot for her, and said he wished he could meet a woman like her. Vladimir liked to tease him at her expense and told him to look on the streets of Moscow in the dead of winter and find a poor one with pneumonia. They both liked the joke, although it embarrassed her.
She almost laughed before she answered him about her summer. She was moving to a tiny apartment, going to buy cheap furniture, selling her clothes, and eventually looking for a job in the fall. And cleaning her apartment herself. If she had told him the truth, he would have been horrified and felt sorry for her. She was definitely not going to the casino in Monte Carlo, or doing anything that would interest Yuri.
“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m busy in Paris this month. Maybe I’ll go somewhere in August,” she said vaguely, wishing her dinner would come quickly, but the restaurant was crowded, and the service slower than usual.
“Why don’t you come on the boat?” he said as his face lit up again. He had a two-hundred-foot yacht that was dwarfed by Vladimir’s, but a truly lovely boat. “I’m going to Ibiza. We’d have fun.” She wasn’t sure if he was inviting her as a guest or a date, but either way, she had no desire to go anywhere with him, and certainly not on vacation. She thanked him but said she thought she’d be staying with friends in Normandy, which wasn’t true, but she wanted to decline the invitation. It would have been wonderful to be back on a boat for the rest of the summer, just not his.
It had shocked her to hear him imply he had met Vladimir out with “friends,” obviously a woman, but he would need to show everyone that he hadn’t “lost” her, he had replaced her, to protect his ego. He wouldn’t want anyone to think she had left him, which she hadn’t. And he’d make sure they knew. He had probably already told Yuri, which was humiliating, but there was nothing she could do about it. If he had thought she was still with Vladimir, he would never have invited her on his boat. He knew it was open season. Otherwise he wouldn’t have wanted to make Vladimir angry by flirting with her. Clearly, he knew now that Vladimir wouldn’t care. It hardly supported her theory that they had loved each other. Apparently he didn’t, since it was over in an instant, as soon as he even remotely suspected she might have betrayed him. He didn’t wait to be sure. As always, he trusted his instincts, and he was right.
“Normandy is boring. Come to Ibiza,” Yuri said, as he gently placed a hand on hers on the table, and she discreetly withdrew hers. “I’ve been thinking about you since I saw Vladimir. I wanted to call you. He said you were here. I’m so glad I ran into you.” She wasn’t, but she smiled and nodded, she had gotten trapped at the small table with him, waiting for her food.
With that, the waitress made a mistake and brought her dinner plated and not to go, and said she thought Natasha might like to have dinner with her friend, and she brought his at the same time. There was no way Natasha could leave now, without seeming openly rude, so she smiled and nodded at his conversation, as they began eating. Yuri was delighted by the girl’s mistake and smiled at her. Like all the waitresses at the restaurant, she was scantily dressed in a tiny miniskirt and a halter top, and was young and very pretty. “I want to talk to you,” Yuri said, as Natasha ate her dinner as quickly as she decently could. All she wanted was to go home. It depressed her to be sitting there with him. “Vladimir told me what happened,” he said, lowering his voice, as she looked at him curiously.
“And what did he say happened?” She was interested to hear what story he was telling, surely not that he suspected her of informing the police he was an art thief and had stolen a hundred million dollars’ worth of paintings.
“He said you’d been hounding him for the last year to have children, at least in the next few years. And he doesn’t want them, so he thought it only fair that you part company and he leave you free to find a man who will give you babies. It’s very decent of him, actually. He said it was very painful for him to make the decision, but he wants you to be happy. He said he gave you the apartment here.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows shot up at that. “Actually, he didn’t.” Not that it mattered. It was all lies anyway, to soothe his ego, and make him look like a hero, instead of a bastard.
Yuri looked suddenly serious, squeezing her hand in his until it hurt. He was holding it too tightly for her to pull away, as she stared at his perfectly capped teeth, gold necklace, and hair transplants that had been impeccably done, but he still looked his age. He was handsome, but in a showy, artificial way. “Natasha, I want to speak frankly. I’ve always liked you. I have two children who are older than you are, and I would love to have a baby with you. We could marry if that’s important to you, I don’t really care. I’m willing to settle a large amount of money on you to begin the arrangement. Deposited into a Swiss account in your name. Perhaps twenty million to start, or thirty if you feel that’s necessary, and the same amount again when the child is born. All your bills paid, houses wherever you want. I think we’d have a very good time together,” he said, with a glint in his eye, and looking as though he was sure he’d convinced her, and for some girls he might have. It was a remarkable offer, and actually more than Vladimir had ever given her. Twenty or thirty million dollars in a Swiss account was serious security, and the same again when she delivered his child. It was the kind of offer that every girl like her prayed for, and she and Vladimir had only been apart for a week. She was stunned. “I could buy the apartment here from Vladimir if you want, if he’s not giving it to you. That way you wouldn’t have to move. I stay at the George V.” She knew he had a flat in London too. He didn’t have the flotilla of huge yachts that Vladimir did, or the houses. He didn’t own entire industries in Russia, and the president wasn’t in his pocket. But he was a very, very rich man, worth several billion dollars, according to Vladimir, who knew about such things. And he had no trouble surrounding himself with beautiful women. But not her.