Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi

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СКАЧАТЬ turned his back on the life they could have had, and, yes, actually she could believe it.

      ‘I hope she was worth it.’

      ‘Worth what?’

      The end of them.

      ‘Go,’ Anya said.

      She wanted him to leave now.

      And, because it was Roman, just like that, he went.

      It was pride that stopped her calling him back.

      * * *

      She stepped into the shower and quickly dressed for her after party.

      Blasting her hair with the dryer, it fell softly around her face. Her hands were still shaking from their brief reunion.

      She pulled on a pale grey dress and some heels and then headed out.

      Colour she saved for the stage.

      ‘Where were you?’ Mika asked, as she climbed into the limousine to head to the hotel where the party was being held.

      ‘I had people to greet.’

      They sat in silence, Anya lost in her thoughts. Mika was sulking at being kept waiting and he read what was being said on social media about tonight’s performance. They ignored each other but as they stepped out onto the red carpet they came alive again, for it added to the mystery of the dance world. There were screams for Mika, because he had quite a fangirl following. Mika, though, put a protective arm around Anya and they smiled for the cameras and then headed inside.

      Instead of refusing the delicacies that were being offered, as she usually did, Anya took a serviette and a small beignet and bit into the warm, sweet dough.

      There were a few raised eyebrows when she took another and then another. The lemon in her water was her usual fuel for this type of thing.

      But sex had made her hungry, or was it that Roman was back?

      Yes, the people around could see the changes. Not just that she ate but that her cheeks were pink and her green eyes glittered.

      After all these years, her body felt alive again and yet he had killed her soul.

      The next morning as the famed ballet troupe headed for a snatched week at home or straight on to Paris before rehearsals began in earnest, Anya fought with herself not to stop the car and get out.

      Roman was in London.

      And as she sat on the plane and strapped on her seat belt she wanted to disembark. It felt wrong to be leaving when he was here.

      She turned away from the chatter of colleagues and stared out of the window and thought of Roman and Daniil catching up after all these years, and then she thought of what had taken place last night.

      Then, despite harsh words to Roman and a brutal lecture to herself, insisting that she was through with him, she consoled herself with one thought.

      She would see him at the christening, she was sure.

      It wasn’t over.

      It never had been.

CHAPTER FIVE

      ROMAN AWOKE ON the morning of the christening and as he lay there he was hit with an unfamiliar feeling—he wanted to be waking up in his Parisian home.

      Roman was not used to missing a city, or a building, but as he got up and showered he was glad that soon he would be going home.

      Today, though, he would meet with Daniil.

      He still hadn’t contacted him.

      The natural assumption might be that he would want to see his identical twin before seeing Anya.

      The assumption would have been wrong.

      He and Daniil had been abandoned at approximately two weeks of age. No one knew who had been born first but it had always been assumed that Roman was the elder.

      Roman had been a natural leader and, though Daniil was as tough as they came, Roman had looked out for his brother at every turn. He had taken care of him and taken the fall for him and had wanted only the best for his twin.

      When Daniil had been adopted Roman had made a promise to himself that he was letting his twin go for good.

      Daniil had had a chance, a real chance for a good life and an entirely new start, and Roman had insisted that he take it.

      When Daniil had refused to leave, when he had reminded Roman that they would make it themselves as boxers, Roman had told him he would do better without him, that he was the better fighter and that it was Daniil, if he stayed, who would drag him down.

      A forbidden fight had been set up in the dorm and Roman had fought dirty that night.

      ‘See, shishka,’ Roman had said. Daniil had been recovering from a savage blow that had ripped apart his cheek and Roman had used the name they had called him since they had found out he was to be adopted. It meant big shot. ‘I do better without you.’

      So Daniil had taken his chance. There had been no letters sent from England to the orphanage, no attempt by Daniil to contact his twin. Though Roman had missed him, the knowledge that his brother had a chance had consoled him.

      When Roman had left the orphanage he had considered trying to track Daniil down, but the thought of turning up on his doorstep, of being a burden on his twin, meant he had decided to leave well alone.

      Roman had considered it again when he had come out of the French Foreign Legion. Unlike most legionnaires, he had amassed quite a fortune thanks to a long conversation with a comrade, Dario.

      The men had rarely spoken about their lives before joining the legion—it was what they had come to get away from after all. But one night in the desert, both wounded and waiting for help to arrive, they had touched on their pasts.

      ‘Stay awake,’ Roman said as Dario slipped in and out of consciousness. Roman too wanted the bliss of closing his eyes but he knew it would have signalled the end. The sand in his lacerated back felt as if salt was being rubbed into his wounds, and he could hear the gurgle of his chest as he tried to breathe. He held onto the gold earring he had taken from his pocket and it felt as if Anya was by his side and for her he kept his eyes open. ‘Dario!’ he commanded. ‘Talk.’

      Silence.

      ‘What are you thinking about?’ Roman asked.

      ‘My wife,’ Dario said. ‘I left chaos behind me,’ he admitted to Roman. ‘I just hope she is okay.’

      They conversed in French, as was the rule.

      ‘If I’d stayed I’d have been locked up, I think,’ Dario said. ‘What about you?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Roman tried to imagine what life might have been like had he stayed. He might have moved to Saint СКАЧАТЬ