The Stylist. Александра Маринина

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СКАЧАТЬ drank coffee in the cozy living room, having sent Andrei upstairs to his room. Nastya observed the man she had not seen in more than ten years with curiosity. He had not changed much, except for the wheelchair. The handsome manly face was the same, and so were the gentle eyes that could look at you with such warmth and penetration. The light chestnut hair was still thick and there were very few gray hairs.

      “What is the meaning of your visit?”

      “A feminine whim,” she replied evasively.

      “That’s something new,” Solovyov smiled tightly. “I don’t remember you being whimsical.”

      “I’ve changed.”

      “A lot?”

      “Very much. You can’t even imagine, Volodya, how much I’ve changed.”

      “But I was still happy to see you.”

      “Thanks. I’m glad to hear it.”

      “But why did you really come? You’ve never wished me a happy birthday since we broke up.”

      “Why did I come? I don’t know. I wanted to see you, I guess, to see what you’re like after all these years. I loved you, although you may not want to remember that.”

      “What I’m like now?” Solovyov asked angrily. “I’m a widower and a helpless invalid. Satisfied?”

      “I’m very sorry,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

      “No. It’s useless to talk about it, talking changes nothing.” “Well, then, don’t talk about it.”

      His eyes grew warmer and for an instant Nastya fell under the spell of his incredible gray eyes.

      “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Same sneak. Catch me up and turn things around to your benefit. What are you doing? Raking in the bucks in some business?”

      “Of course. All us lawyers are working in business now.”

      “Especially with your knowledge of foreign languages. How many do you speak? Three, I seem to recall.”

      “Five,” Nastya corrected him with a smile. “English, French, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese. But actually, you’re right. The romance languages are so close you could consider them as one.”

      “With your brains and languages, you’re really too good for the police. Remember how worried you were after graduation that you wouldn’t get a job with the police, that they would send you off to be a lawyer? You wanted to get into a uniform so badly then, I remember. Now you must laugh about it, right? Lawyers with experience are worth their weight in gold today, especially in domestic law and real estate. The richest people in Russia.”

      Nastya had gotten used to this sort of conversation over the years. At first she would get very angry, but then she got used to the fact that a lot of people considered her love of police work unnatural somehow.

      “And are you making a lot at your firm?”

      “Not a lot. You know my passion for order. I wouldn’t work in a company that made a lot of money illegally. But working legally and paying taxes, you can’t make a lot of money nowadays.”

      “Well, you’ve made enough to buy a car,” he noted.

      “That’s my husband’s car.”

      “So you’re married, too?”

      He couldn’t conceal his surprise, and it took all she had to keep from laughing. Solovyov was always conceited. Did he really think that she would carry a torch for him to her dying day?

      “And who’s the lucky man? Some ‘New Russian’ businessman, I’ll bet.”

      “No. A Ph.D., a professor, prize winning academician, and so on. The whole thing. Plus a car.”

      “A good deal,” he snorted. “Aren’t you worried about being a young widow, with such an elderly husband?”

      “Not at all.”

      She had followed his thinking. He was probably imagining that since her husband was so honored and so old, she, Nastya Kamenskaya, had decided to have an affair and wanted her old flame for the job. It was better than looking for a new lover. The old ones are tested, known, dependable. And so she had looked him up, having heard that he was widowed. But she hadn’t known that he was an invalid. And now he would definitely say something about it.

      “You must be disappointed to find me like this.”

      Right. There it was. He hadn’t changed at all in twelve years. She could still read his mind.

      “I still don’t know what you’re like,” she replied softly. “We’ve only been chatting for a half hour. Shall I make some more coffee?”

      “Don’t bother. Andrei will do it.”

      Solovyov pushed a button on a small square box and footsteps came right away: the assistant was coming down from the second floor.

      “You’ve become an aristocrat,” she joked. “You call on the help even to make coffee.”

      He did not respond but stared at her. Once again she felt uncomfortable, as she had in those days, twelve years ago, when his eyes melted her. Could she really still have feelings for him? No, impossible. Couldn’t be. He had too much power over her then, when she was a twenty-three-year-old law school graduate. He could twist her into ropes then and use her as a floor mat. She put up with everything and forgave him everything because she was head over heels in love with him. Now she was different. She didn’t fall in love head over heels and she didn’t let anyone use her. Even those who were much stronger.

      “Are you expecting guests?” she asked when Andrei brought coffee with fresh strudel and went back upstairs.

      “A few people.” Solovyov nodded vaguely.

      “At what time?”

      “After five. Why do you ask?”

      “If you don’t want your friends to see me here, tell me. I’ll leave early.”

      “Nonsense. Why should I hide you?”

      “I don’t know. Who knows what your situation is. Maybe your lady will be coming.”

      “Relax, I’m expecting only men.”

      “Well then, that makes me happy. That means my trip wasn’t in vain.”

      She set her cup on the table, stood and came up behind him, putting her arm around his neck and pressing her cheek to his thick, wavy hair.

      “Solovyov, you’re so stupid,” Nastya sighed. “Why haven’t you grown up in twelve years?”

      She felt his muscles tense. Was he trying to hide the fact that her touch was unpleasant to him or was he fighting the desire to embrace her?

      “Have you grown up?”

      “That’s what I’m trying to find out. That’s why I came СКАЧАТЬ