Page 88 of The Unseen
“I’ll leave early in the morning and get home before the housekeeper arrives. I won’t give up this night with you.”
Alexei pulled Valentina close and she rested her cheek against his chest and slid her leg between his. They fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.So this is what it’s like to share a bed with someone you love, she mused as she began to drift off to sleep. To her, falling asleep in the arms of a man was the ultimate act of trust. Knowing that she was safe and cherished and had nothing to fear was more intimate than any lovemaking could ever be.
Morning came all too soon and Valentina disentangled herself from Alexei and got up. Her hair tumbled down her back and her skin was flushed from the warmth of his body. She was naked, but she felt no shame as she stood before the bed, smiling down at him.
“You are so beautiful,” Alexei whispered.
“So are you.”
“Come back here.”
She had to get dressed and get home before Mrs. Nemirovsky realized she’d been gone all night, but couldn’t find the strength to leave. She pulled back the covers and admired Alexei’s body, so strong and lean, and pulsing with life. She straddled him, taking him into her body with one sure stroke. He cupped her breasts as she leaned down to kiss him, all the while moving against him in a rhythm as old as time. Alexei’s hands slid down her body and grabbed her hips as he took control and thrust deep into her body. Valentina collapsed on top of him, her insides still quivering as she began to spiral back to Earth and reality.
“I have to go,” she whispered. It was fully light out now, and the sound of morning traffic had begun to replace the peaceful silence of the night. “Come for lunch.”
“When can we tell your family about our plans?” Alexei asked as he watched her dress.
“Whatareour plans?” Valentina asked as she did up the buttons of her dress with practiced fingers. She hadn’t thought beyond last night, but now that the harsh glare of a new day filtered through the net curtains, she was suddenly overcome with uncertainty.
“To be together,” Alexei replied.
“Alyosha, I can’t openly be with you. I’m a married woman. My husband might still turn up, and if he doesn’t, I must observe a period of mourning.” She tried not to cringe as she uttered the words. Her “husband” was rotting in his bathtub, his body being slowly devoured by lye. She hated Dmitri with every fiber of her being and rejoiced in his death, but she was now bound to him more securely than if she’d actually married him. She could never leave his house. The truth could still be discovered at any time and she had to safeguard her secret, never, ever allowing the mask to slip for fear of giving herself away.
“Come back to Paris with me.”
Valentina shook her head. “I must remain here in case Dmitri returns.”
“You sound as if you’re hoping for that,” Alexei snapped. His eyes brimmed with pain as he studied her face. “You did love him.”
Valentina shook her head. “Alyosha, I can’t pretend he never existed and erase him from my past,” she argued, knowing full well that was exactly what she’d done. “I must wait until a year has passed, at the very least.”
“Then we’ll wait together.”
“Yes. We will wait.”
FIFTY-THREE
DECEMBER 2014
London, England
With shaking hands, Quinn set aside the Fabergé necklace and wiped her damp cheeks. Alexei coming back from the dead was a development she hadn’t anticipated, and witnessing the tender reunion between Valentina and her love had utterly demolished the fragile emotional barriers Quinn had erected to keep Valentina’s feelings separate from her own. Valentina had murdered a man in cold blood, but Quinn couldn’t find it in her heart to condemn her, and secretly rooted for Valentina to get away with murder and find happiness. But interviewing Natalia had generated more questions than answers. She’d never mentioned Alexei’s return, and Valentina’s marriage to Stanley Swift had taken place seven years after Dmitri’s death, according to the copy of the marriage certificate Quinn had been able to obtain over the weekend, along with newspaper clippings describing his disappearance and reporting on the fruitless investigation. So, what in the world had happened between Alexei’s arrival in London and Valentina’s marriage to Swift? And who was her son’s father?
Quinn was jerked out of her reverie by the ringing of her mobile. Rhys’s office number appeared on the screen. She picked up the phone. “Hi, Rhys.”
“Dr. Allenby, it’s Rhiannan Makely, Mr. Morgan’s PA. I was wondering if he might be with you.” Rhiannan sounded nervous and apologetic, but there was something else in her tone—a hint of panic.
“No, he isn’t. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him since Thursday. Is something wrong, Rhiannan?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Morgan had several meetings scheduled for this morning, but I can’t raise him on his mobile, and he’s not responding to texts or emails. He’s never just not shown up, Dr. Allenby. It’s not like him.”
“Have you tried Haley? He’s probably with her.”
Rhiannan’s anxiety was almost palpable. “Her phone is switched off. I’m worried something’s happened.”
“I’ll go to his house and see if he’s all right.”
“Oh, would you? I’d be most grateful. I can’t leave the office, the phone is ringing off the hook today. It’s probably nothing and I’m just being silly,” Rhiannan said. “I do tend to overreact. He’s just normally so punctual. I bet he’ll stroll in any minute with a tin of freshly baked muffins and chastise me for bothering you,” she added tearfully. “He always brings me treats. He’s so considerate.”
