The Last Kolovsky Playboy (9 page)

He had been dreading this day.

Ross, a doctor, had seen Aleksi’s X-Rays, showing old injuries, when he had been admitted to the hospital after the car crash—had confronted him about them. In a moment of weakness, and also to assure him that Annika hadn’t suffered the same treatment from their father, Aleksi had confessed that he had been beaten in the past. Ross had promised never to reveal what he had said.

‘Ross had no right!’ Aleksi flared when they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t care if he’s your husband—I hope his medical malpractice insurance—’

‘What are you talking about, Aleksi?’ Annika frowned. ‘He’s just worried—
I’m
worried.’ She swallowed. ‘Kate’s got a daughter.’

‘Georgie.’ Aleksi nodded, relief whooshing through him. He kicked himself for overreacting, but he had been so sure Ross had revealed his past.

‘When Mum rang…’ Annika was clearly uncomfortable ‘…she said you were pulling some stunt but that we should be seen to be supportive. Look, I get that there are a lot of people you have to convince you are
settling down, and I have no idea what Mum’s up to, pretending to support you…’

‘Don’t worry about Kate and me.’

‘I’m not.’ She looked squarely at him. ‘Kate seems lovely. She seems more than capable. If you are genuinely engaged then I couldn’t be more delighted for you. If you’re not…’

‘Kate and I have worked together a long time,’ Aleksi said. ‘Only when I was injured did we realize—’

‘Save it for the press,’ Annika hissed, clearly not convinced. ‘What I am saying is that if you two are just doing this to appease the board, if this is just some convenient arrangement…She has a
child,
Aleksi!’

‘I am looking after Georgie,’ he protested.

‘So it’s about the money for Kate, then?’ Annika asked cynically.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know this much,’ Annika flared, and Aleksi realised just how strongly his sister felt. ‘If it’s anything other than love guiding this, then you two had better think long and hard about Georgie. Do you really want a child caught up in all this? The press will give you both absolute hell if it comes out. Do you really want all this to land on a five-year-old?’

‘She’s sensible for her age,’ he said defensively, although his heart was sinking with every sentence she uttered.

‘Oh, so that’s okay, then,’ Annika sneered, and then her voice broke. ‘She’ll love you, too, Aleksi.’

‘Annika—’

‘No!’ She would not be silenced. ‘What little girl doesn’t want a daddy? What little girl doesn’t want to see her mum happy and live in a beautiful house?’
She shook her head at her brother. ‘I’ve seen Kate looking at you. She’s crazy about you, Aleksi, but that’s her problem. Just don’t break that little girl’s heart, too.’

He had dismissed it when his mother had said it, but hearing Annika’s raw plea had Aleksi more than uneasy. He looked over to where Kate sat, smiling, chatting, making light work of his mother, and he knew, as he had always known deep down, that Kate had feelings for him. So many women had. And then she turned around, caught his eye, and she smiled a smile that was just for him.

A smile that said,
Get me out of here.

An intimate smile that was only passed between lovers.

He would hurt her.

Of that Aleksi was in no doubt—and now here was Annika, telling him that he would hurt Georgie, too.

‘Be very careful,’ Annika warned, only Aleksi wasn’t listening. For him the night was over.

He summoned Kate and they were out of there, the cameras clicking again, Kate once again attempting to duck his kiss as they slipped into the back seat.

‘We’re supposed to be unable to keep our hands off each other,’ Aleksi reminded her, but even as she tried to close her eyes and think of Kolovsky all she could see was the cheque still in her bag, waiting to be cashed.

She felt paid for.

‘It’s like kissing an aunt.’ Aleksi gave in and brooded instead, sat drumming his fingers on the passenger door as they were driven back to his home.

But worse, far worse for Aleksi, was when they arrived home. All he wanted was to take her upstairs to drive out the warnings, to convince himself they were right to be
doing what they were doing, to forget for just a little while that this was a dangerous game. As if sent to remind him, as they stepped into the hall Georgie stood at the top of the stairs, a teddy on her nightdress, her hair a mass of ringlets, and a very sorry nanny by her side.

‘She wouldn’t go to sleep till she knew you were home.’

‘She’s probably a little unsettled,’ Kate said as Georgie came running down the stairs.

Georgie quickly corrected her mother—she wasn’t unsettled; on the contrary she was absolutely
delighted
with her new home.

‘We had supper by the pool and then we took Bruce for a walk on the beach.’ She was chattering so fast she could hardly get the words out in order. ‘There are hundreds of different channels on Aleksi’s television; I saw you arriving at the dinner and they were talking about the wedding!’

‘What was she doing watching the news?’ Aleksi frowned to Sophie.

‘It was just for a second. She was working out the remote…’

‘She is not just to be plonked in front of the television—’

‘Aleksi,’ Kate broke in, ‘I let her watch some. It’s no big deal…’

‘She’s not even five yet,’ Aleksi warned the nanny. ‘She is not to watch the news.’

‘Of course, Mr Kolovsky.’ Sophie’s face was purple with embarrassment. ‘Come on, Georgie, let’s get you to bed.’

‘I’ll take her,’ Kate said, because that was what she wanted.

It was a thoroughly over-excited Georgie that she put
to bed, and it took for ever to get her to settle. Her new school uniform was hanging on the wardrobe door, as per Georgie’s instructions, and she would have worn it to bed had Kate allowed it.

‘I love it here,’ Georgie whispered as Kate finally flicked the light off. ‘Are you happy too?’

‘Of course,’ Kate said, and closing the bedroom door she let out a long breath, before walking along the hall to the bedroom, bracing herself to earn her keep.

‘How is she?’

His suit lay in a puddle on the floor, and he lay in the bed. He didn’t look up from scrolling through messages on his phone, and Kate felt suddenly shy.

She had never actually undressed in front of him. Usually, it just…well, happened. But now she stood in his vast bedroom, the bedside lights seemed to be blazing and because when packing she’d realised she truly couldn’t bring
that,
her familiar tatty dressing gown was in a bin somewhere. Despite their previous intimacies, Kate just wasn’t ready to undress in front of him, so instead she padded into the
en-suite
bathroom.

Her hair, of course, was everywhere. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, her lipstick, despite the packaging’s promise, had long, long since faded, and yet…

Her usually self-critical eyes blinked—because though she could see her faults there was something new there, something that had been missing too long. He had awoken something in her—intangible, yet somehow visible.

There was a glow that had been missing—a ripeness, a lushness, that she couldn’t logically explain. As she peeled off her clothes and stepped on his scales they gave her the same old bad news—said it out loud,
actually, and Kate jumped off in horror, hoping to God that Aleksi hadn’t heard!

What to wear?

She stared at the neatly folded white towels that had been replaced since her shower this evening. There were bathrobes hanging against the door, as anonymous as in any hotel.

She was too nervous to go out there, so she lingered in brushing her teeth and taking off her make-up. Always till now their passion had been spontaneous, a wave that swept them up, only now she felt as if she were standing at the edge of Aleksi’s glittering pool, nervous about just plunging in.

What to wear?

The question plagued her again. She didn’t own a nightdress. The last time she had worn one was when Georgie had been born. Yes, she could put on a bathrobe, and then take it off when she got to bed. Brave, nervous, she opened the bathroom door. The overhead lights were off, but the dim bedside lights might just as well have been spotlights tracking her as she padded towards him, her body a contrary jumble of emotions, because she wanted him…so badly she wanted him…

Just not like this.

The French windows were open and she could hear the slow lap of the bay, except it didn’t calm her a jot. She could feel his eyes on her as reached the bed and stood there.

‘Are you going to wear your bathrobe to bed?’

She bit down on her lip and took it off in one fumbled motion that included lifting the sheet and sliding into bed.

She could smell his maleness, could feel his brooding mood, and she longed for the spontaneity of before—
for touches that just happened, not this manufactured simulation they had invented.

His kiss was skilled and practised, his hands insistent and probing, and she tried to tell herself she enjoyed it—tried to remind her body how just a few days ago it had craved this moment, had yearned for the weight of his body and the scratch of his thigh as he parted her legs. But her body refused to listen.

Oh, she kissed him back, moaned and made noises, but Aleksi had tasted the real Kate and knew he was getting a poor imitation of the woman he had so recently reduced to delicious begging.

And Aleksi was too proud to take favours.

‘You’re tired.’ He rolled away from her.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ Aleksi offered, and flicked off the bedside light.

‘Yes.’ She stared at the darkness, relieved and yet disappointed at the same time.

‘They’re in the bathroom cupboard, by the way,’ Aleksi said, shifting onto his side to face away from her, and Kate closed her eyes at what came next. ‘The headache tablets—no doubt you’ll soon say you’ve got one.’

K
RASAVITSA
K
ATE

Aleksi stared at the headline, and then at the photo.

Always the papers crucified his dates. The sleekest, glossiest were caught mid-blink or at an unflattering angle, the write-ups were always scathing—all night he had dreaded Kate’s face when she saw the cruel words and pictures at the breakfast table.

And yet here she was. On the front cover.

One strap of her dress falling slightly from her shoulder, her hair rippling down the other one, her head thrown back mid-laugh, her cleavage, her arms, her flesh so refreshing—but most surprising for Aleksi next to her was himself, and for once he was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning, but there
was
a smile on his usually stern features. As he stared at the photo he tried to recall that moment, what it was that had made Kate laugh, what it was that had made him smile—only, unusually, he couldn’t narrow it down to one time.

Despite the tense atmosphere, despite the barbs and the comments and the claustrophobic air any family reunion of his usually fostered, last night there had also been moments like these.

Many of them.

‘There’s Mummy!’ A smiling face peered over not his shoulder but his elbow. ‘What’s that word?’

‘Krasavitsa,’
Aleksi said. ‘It means beautiful woman.’

‘Well, I’m not feeling so
krasavitsa
this morning!’ Kate headed for the kitchen bench to pour a coffee then, realising there was no need, instead walked over to the breakfast table, where the maid was pouring it for her. The table was positioned in a sun-drenched area, overlooking the pool and the tennis courts, the French doors were open, and as she sat before the generous feast, Kate wondered how he did it. Not a single fly buzzed around the pastries and spreads—no doubt Aleksi employed someone to ward them off from a suitable distance.

She couldn’t meet his eyes so she concentrated on her breakfast, choosing some lovely fresh fruit and wondering if she should treat the next two months as some kind of mini-health retreat—swimming each day, eating all the right things. She’d come out of this all glossy and gorgeous, even if she was lugging around a broken heart.

‘When you marry my mum—’ Georgie’s words hauled her from her introspection ‘—will I be a bridesmaid?’

Horrified, she looked over to Aleksi, wondering what his scathing response would be, but Aleksi just smiled into his newspaper.

‘Georgie…’ It was Kate who answered. ‘I told you—we’re just seeing how things work out.’ Her eyes were urgent as they darted to Aleksi’s, hoping he would understand that marriage wasn’t on Kate’s agenda, but that she couldn’t include her daughter in the charade and expect her not to voice the truth.

‘I know that,’ Georgie said, making puddles of milk on the table as she ate her cereal. ‘Okay.’ She looked
again at Aleksi and rephrased her question.
‘If
you marry my mum—will I be a bridesmaid?’

Oh, God, she could feel every follicle on her head jump. Her teaspoon rattled against her cup as she stirred her coffee and, worse, she could feel the sting of tears, too.

Georgie was so happy, so accepting, so trusting—and it was her own mother who was setting her up for this hurt.

‘I am quite sure,’ Aleksi said, his voice kind because it was Georgie asking, ‘that when your mother marries you will be her absolute first choice as a bridesmaid.’

Delighted with his response, Georgie finished her breakfast and scampered off to put on her new uniform as Kate sat with the unfamiliar feeling of not having to scramble together a lunch box—it was already packed and in Georgie’s bag, Sophie informed her, and then she headed out to her little charge, which left Kate and Aleksi alone.

‘I’ve been thoughtless.’

Kate frowned. Aleksi was never thoughtless—arrogant, perhaps, rude, often, but his words were never without thought.

‘I am used to…’ He shrugged as he tried to locate the word, except there wasn’t just one. ‘I’m not used to being with someone who has other things to think about.’

‘Other things apart from you, you mean!’ Kate tossed back, and when he smiled she couldn’t help just a little one too.

‘I am usually the sole focus,’ he admitted. ‘You have moved home, changed your daughter’s school, dealt with your family, with mine, with your daughter and all the changes she is going through…’ Kate blinked at this rare glimpse of sensitivity. ‘It is no wonder you
were
tired last night.’ And then she realised he wasn’t being
sensitive. He was about to more clearly spell out the rules. ‘So you need to take things more easy—don’t worry about going into work.’

‘I’m not to work?’ she gasped.

‘You’re my fiancée. You can hardly be my PA too.’

‘I thought you
needed
me working!’

Aleksi closed his eyes for a brief second. He did not like being argued with, but more than that he didn’t want to examine the truth behind what he was saying—that he might more simply just need
her.

‘My needs are more basic than that, Kate,’ he settled for saying instead. ‘You need some time to get used to your new surroundings, to concentrate on Georgie, make sure she is settling in okay.’ He glanced at the bathrobe. ‘To sort out your wardrobe and to get some rest.’

She looked away, blushing at his innuendo but Aleksi hadn’t finished yet.

‘Oh, and Kate…’ He waited and he waited and he waited, until finally she looked at him. He wanted to ensure he had her full attention as he addressed a pertinent point. ‘You haven’t banked that cheque.’

She felt a blush spread over her cheeks. ‘I meant to,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it today.’

‘Good,’ he clipped, and then she frowned, because he smiled.

A real smile.

Only it wasn’t for her.

‘Wish me luck!’ Georgie stood beaming in her new shoes and school uniform and little straw hat.

‘You don’t need luck,’ Aleksi told her. ‘You’re going to have a great day in your new school. But good luck anyway.’

‘Do you think they’ll like me?’ Georgie checked with Aleksi as Kate sorted out her socks, that were already slipping.

‘Do
you
like you?’ Aleksi asked.

‘Yes!’ Georgie laughed.

‘Then you’ve got a friend already.’

It was times like that, Kate thought as she and Georgie were driven to school, when it would be so easy to love him—except that wasn’t allowed in their rules.

Still, if ever she had doubted as to whether what they were doing was right, Kate had some confirmation that morning that they were.

Oh, it was all new, and of course Georgie’s little classmates were curious about her, but there was a different air to the place—a feeling of rightness as Georgie proudly showed off her pencil case contents to the little girl sitting next to her, who did the same.

‘She’ll fit right in,’ Mrs Heath, her new teacher, assured Kate. ‘Go home and don’t worry.’

And she would have done that—except just as she felt she could breathe and didn’t feel like bursting into tears there was something new to worry about. Two vertical lines appeared between her eyes as she crossed the playground, reading the unexpected text she’d just received.

Can we meet
—
need to talk.

Say hi to Georgie from me.

And then, even as she erased it, another text pinged in.

As soon as you can. Really do need to speak with you.

She rang Craig straight back. ‘There’s not much to say!’

‘Kate, just listen.’

‘No,
you
listen.’ She was beyond furious with Georgie’s father as she stalked towards her driver. ‘Not a single word from you for months and now you want to talk!’

‘I read in the paper about you and Kolovsky,’ Craig said. ‘I’m pleased for you, Kate, it’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘I can’t say this on the phone.’

‘Then it can’t be said,’ Kate responded curtly, then ended the call and turned off her phone.

‘Everything okay?’ Phillip, her driver, checked.

‘It’s fine,’ Kate said, then forced a smile. ‘It’s early days yet, but she seems really happy to be there.’

Craig wasn’t going to spoil it, Kate swore to herself. If it was money he was after—and when
hadn’t
he needed a loan?—then he’d better not be holding his breath.

She was doing this for Georgie.

Not Craig, not Aleksi. She was doing it for
Georgie.

And maybe, Kate conceded, she was also doing this for herself—though not for the money.

She was, Kate realised, buying a little bit of time with Aleksi, for herself.

It should have been a relief not to work.

She
was
tired.

And not just from the whirlwind that had taken place in her life in the past few days.

As the days ticked by, and her stomach turned from paper-white to lobster-pink, to honey-brown as she lay on the lounger between trips to boutiques and beauticians, it was, Kate reflected, no wonder she’d spent the last few years feeling permanently exhausted.

It took three full-time staff and one part-time person, on top of Aleksi’s regular crew, to perform all that she routinely had.

Sophie sorted out books and clothes and homework and readers and, concerned about her charge’s love for processed cheese and juice boxes, bizarrely spent entire mornings while Georgie was at school sculpting carrots into mini-carrots and celery into mini-celery and making heart and star-shaped ice cubes to liven up the water for Georgie’s after-school snack!

Bruce was returned unrecognisable from the groomers. Shampooed, washed and clipped, he was walked twice a day by Kate’s occasional driver, but lay mainly dozing and scented on the decking as Kate tried to summon the energy to flop into the pool.

And, of course, with a child in the house an extra cleaner was employed.

Yes, the days were full of pampering and indulgences—like catching up on the pile of books she had meant to read. But there was only so many treatments at the day spa and only so much lounging one could do.

The afternoons were the most wonderful.

She always waiting at the school gates for Georgie—even though Sophie thought it was her job. Kate could never willingly miss the sight of her daughter in a sea of children, smiling, laughing as she came out at the end of the day, once even waving a party invitation. It was so nice to take ages over her reader, to go for a walk on the beach together.

It was the nights that were hell.

Last night they’d been out to dinner, holding hands across the table, with a kiss for the cameras, but then, after a blistering row, when she really had had a
headache, Aleksi had stormed off to the city and spent the night in a hotel—at least that was what she’d hopelessly assumed. Now he was back, had taken the afternoon off work, and was in the blackest of moods.

He thumped balls over the net as she lay on the lounger trying to relax, trying not to turn on her phone and see if Craig had called
again.
Kate knew she was a bit of a poor excuse for a bought and paid for fiancée—to Aleksi’s intense annoyance she jumped out of her skin every time he came near her. It was her mind that didn’t want this, battling with her body that so desperately did. No, she was a very poor excuse because, despite her extremely pressing finances and having already received a bill from the school for next term’s fees, she still hadn’t cashed his cheque.

He really was pounding those tennis balls; every time the machine slammed one out he slammed it back—slicing his shots, brimming with suppressed rage.

Long-limbed, his black hair shiny with sweat, his top off, he was incredibly beautiful, Kate thought, hiding her wistful expression behind dark glasses. Thanks to his time recuperating in the West Indies his hospital pallor had long since dimmed, and the wasting on his leg was diminishing rapidly with his punishing exercise schedule. If she didn’t know better—if she didn’t lie beside him at night and feel him tense in pain, hear him swim at three a.m. just to ease the cramping—then she’d think he looked a picture of health.

If you ignored the black rings beneath his eyes and the tension etched in his features, the dangerous energy to him that wasn’t abating…Kate was sure it wasn’t just the lack of action in the bedroom that was fuelling him.

Belenki was still permanently unavailable when Aleksi tried to communicate with him, and Aleksi
wasn’t a man used to being left on hold. Add to that the takeover bid against him, and Kate somehow knew there wasn’t enough tennis balls on the planet to quell what was fuelling his anger.

He was walking towards her now, barely limping, yet it must surely be an effort. His breath was hard from exertion, his naked chest rising, and he fixed her with a smile that didn’t reassure her in the slightest. Then he lowered his head, his mouth hard on hers. His skin was hot but his mouth was cool, and she closed her eyes—not from passion but to try to blot the tears. Because she had seen the glint of a camera lens too, and knew this display of affection was only for them.

‘I think they just got their picture,’ she whispered.

‘Then let’s give them another.’ He dragged a chair over with his foot and sat opposite her, toying with the tie on her sarong.

‘Please don’t…’ She closed her eyes in shame at the thought of being exposed in just her bikini in the paper.

‘Why not?’ Still he fiddled with the tie on her sarong, and she struggled to find her voice.

Her mind was not on the cameras now, but on his hand, his palm grazing her nipple, which was thick and swollen. She wished it were different. She hated her body—hated its passionate responses to him, hated that even after a passionless, manufactured kiss still she flared for him.

‘Maybe I don’t want to be made a fool of. Where were you last night?’ She reached for his hand and removed it.

‘Don’t question me,’ he ground out.

‘Then don’t expect me on tap,’ she snapped back.

‘Hardly!’ came his sarcastic reply, and still he played with the knot.

‘Maybe
krasavitsa
Kate doesn’t want to read about her fiancé’s indiscretions in the paper.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’re going to publicly dump me anyway once this is over, once you’ve convinced the board you’re respectable.’