Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi

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СКАЧАТЬ her heart knew him, but who was this man and how had he got to where he was? Her brain was dizzy from him.

      ‘I’m tired, Roman,’ she said as he got into the car and sat beside her.

      It was long after midnight and she was utterly drained.

      ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘Soon you can rest.’

      His apartment wasn’t very far from the hotel she was staying at.

      He lived in the chic Eighth District just off the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, which was arguably the most beautiful avenue in the world.

      How?

      He insisted his money was his own but Anya knew where he had come from and it did not seem possible to her. As they drove through heavy gates and into a private street a horrible thought occurred. They pulled up at a stunning classic Parisian residence and there was one thing Anya had to know before she got out of the car.

      ‘Is this where you lived with her?’

      ‘No,’ Roman answered. ‘I bought this last year.’

      And so she got out.

      The foyer was serviced and they were greeted. The gates of an antique elevator opened and an elderly man came out and spoke for a moment with Roman in French.

      There were several elevators and it was like a faded, luxurious hotel, Anya thought.

      ‘This is the only elevator you can use. I shall give you a key,’ Roman explained as they stepped in. ‘If you press this...’ he showed her which button ‘...it takes you straight up to my apartment.’

      It made no sense.

      Still, she asked no questions, just nodded as they jolted upwards. When the lift came to a halt he pulled the door open and she stepped into luxury that wasn’t faded, but magnificent.

      They stood in a reception area the walls of which were deep crimson; the ceiling and carpets were too. There were antique furnishings and a huge gilded mirror in which Anya could see her pale reflection.

      An elderly rotund woman came through and conversed in rapid French with Roman before speaking directly to Anya, who shook her head to say she didn’t understand.

      She was almost too tired even to speak.

      ‘Josie said that your room is ready and asked if you would like some supper.’

      ‘Tell her, no, thank you,’ Anya said.

      ‘Do you speak any French?’ he asked.

      ‘I know an awful lot of ballet terms,’ she said, ‘but that’s about it.’

      The elderly man returned at that moment and deposited the cases, presumably in her room, and when he came out he and Josie wished Roman and herself good night and Anya waited as they spoke for a few moments.

      She was more than a little bewildered.

      Roman chatted easily with them and whatever he had just said had made Josie laugh.

      They did not seem like staff and yet they were here in the dead of the night, sorting out his home, dealing with his sudden guest, and now they were leaving in the internal elevator.

      ‘Who are they?’ Anya said.

      ‘Josie and Claude,’ Roman explained, and now even he laughed and it was a rare sound. In fact, she hadn’t heard that sound since they had met again. It was low, deep and familiar from times gone by and she wanted to hear it again.

      ‘They came with the apartment,’ Roman explained as he showed her through to perhaps the most beautiful lounge ever. Heavy jade silk drapes were closed and the large living room was gently lit by damask-shaded lamps. Anya looked up at the high ceiling and the large chandelier, which, though opulent, was somehow soothing.

      ‘I didn’t know about them,’ Roman explained further. ‘The first morning I woke up here, I came through to the kitchen and there Josie was, making breakfast. “Bonjour, monsieur,” she said, and then told me that she would bring my food out to me on the balcony. I went out there and there was Claude, setting up. I was as confused as you are now,’ he said, and it made her smile. ‘All I could think was that I was glad that I hadn’t been armed at the time!’

      Now it was Anya who laughed.

      ‘It turns out that they have a small apartment downstairs, and take care of this one. They’ve been here for decades. You’ll get used to them.’

      ‘Did you?’

      ‘It took a while,’ Roman admitted.

      Could they last a while? Anya wondered. Could they somehow be together while avoiding the hurtful things that needed to be discussed?

      ‘Do you want me to show you around?’ he offered, but she shook her head.

      ‘Not now, I’m really tired.’

      ‘Then I’ll show you where you are sleeping.’

      True to his word, he did not try to persuade her to share his bed and Anya found that she was pouting as he showed her the door and then wished her good night. He walked off without so much as a kiss.

      She stepped in and again the décor was amazing. The room was as big as her entire apartment. The wallpaper was a riot of pinks and reds and the drapes were the same design but in silk. A canopied bed was dressed beautifully and on the intricate bedside table Josie had placed a glass and a jug covered with a weighted circle of linen.

      It really was stunning. There was even a reading area, with a dark chaise longue and bookshelves that were overflowing. The books were all in French, though.

      Anya couldn’t resist so she pulled open the drapes and the shutters and there was the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the night.

      It was the most romantic, feminine room Anya had ever been in and she would never have expected it to be in a home that Roman owned.

      She undressed in a pretty bathroom and pulled on a slip nightdress.

      It was a home that felt like a palace, Anya thought as she climbed into the very high bed.

      She had been living in hotels for weeks and now she lay staring out at the view, trying to take in the fact that she was there.

      There were too many questions that buzzed in her mind.

      Though exhausted, she could not relax. Though aching with tiredness, she could not sleep.

      She could not lie down a hallway away from Roman.

      She could hear him turning off lights and she knew that he had gone to bed.

      She ate one of her chocolate cups.

      And then another.

      But that was not where her hunger had originated. She climbed out of bed and her feet dropped silently to the floor. Like a homing pigeon she walked СКАЧАТЬ