One Stolen Kiss (12 page)

“
Not for alcohol, but thank you.”

“
I’ll message them at the bar downstairs and ask for some water instead. Or something else?”

“
Water would be great – thank you again…”

Christie didn’t trust herself to risk a drink around Adrik. Not since losing her stockings on the rooftop of Doug’s club. Part of her was certain that this little charade would be all over in less than a week. Derek would fly to her rescue, and the only public engagement she would have, would be to him.

And part of her was wondering – just speculating a tiny bit – what it would be like to find out what she had missed, by disappearing on Adrik that night.

It must be all these people misbehaving in here
, she scolded inwardly.
Teaching me some very bad things…

It would definitely be unwise to touch any alcohol.

An attendant arrived quietly with a tray of iced bottled water, sliced lemon and lime, and fresh glasses, departing again with a cash tip from Adrik.

Feeling more confident that he at least seemed to respect her preferences, Christie settled to try and follow the story a little. She only kicked herself for complacency when Adrik whispered to her that there were two men below them sat halfway back, middle, with their hands in one another’s trouser pockets.

“Three to one,” he added. “You’re not even trying. I think you want me to win.”

“
Well, I didn’t realise you were such a qualified connoisseur of public orgies,” she snapped, exasperated. “I don’t have a chance, do I?”

“
It’ll come back to you,” he said. “Just like riding a bicycle. It’s people-watching. Instead of looking out for people who might be watching you.”

His words burned, and she hoped he hadn’t figured out who it was that featured in her more recent past. He seemed to be good at hitting the nail on the head everywhere else.

* * * *

The interval passed in another blur of bathroom visits, and a courtesy stop at the bar to say hello and be introduced to a couple of faces she was sure she would never have to meet again – although she resisted shaking hands, which Adrik found highly amusing.

“I don’t know where they’ve been,” she told him, as they retreated back up to their box. “That was all your fault.”

“
Not at all. I thought your reaction was quite appropriate,” he replied. “I like the idea of having an uptight Manhattan socialite on my arm in the midst of all this debauchery.”

“
I suppose it depends on who you want to be the most disturbed,” she retorted. “Me, or them?”

“
That would be telling.”

Christie was disturbed enough in the second act, when it emerged that one of the heroines of the story was apparently a prisoner in bondage for some romantic misdemeanour. She tried to ignore the fact and kept her attention on the audience, determined to make up for her lost two points against Adrik.

Her mind was starting to suggest uncomfortable questions he might want answered later, if he won. She had no idea how long she had left of the opera to score her points, but could sense the time ticking away.

“
People sleeping does not count,” Adrik informed her, as she remarked that she could hear snoring from the box alongside theirs.

There were a few people maybe whispering to one another, or necking, but no heavy duty petting – all hands were on deck, so to speak, in full view. Christie was starting to wonder that she wouldn’t be able to beat her first triumph of
The Lady Vanishes
in the box opposite.

As she glanced over with a sigh of near-resigned defeat, she frowned and did a double-take.

Surely… not at it again…?

Possibly aroused by the second act of the performance, the elderly man was receiving another sort of assisted performance, in quite excruciating proximity to his Royal neighbours.

Christie nudged Adrik, who had been quietly following the story for the latter half also. She didn’t like to consider why this part would interest him more.

“
He’s having his encore,” she smiled.

Adrik’s hand went to his pocket automatically, and he drew out his phone and brought it to his ear. This time, he let it ring.

The couple opposite sprang apart as if they had been stung. Fascinated, Christie watched, biting the corner of her scarf, as the old man clumsily found his own cell phone and answered it.

“
Would you stop with the masturbating, please?” Adrik requested mildly, not loud enough for anyone else to hear other than Christie and the call’s recipient. “Some of us are trying to enjoy the opera.”

Christie smothered her own giggle as the man, bright red, looked around the auditorium with his face a picture of alarm, and his lady-friend downed a glass of champagne and disappeared behind her fan in humiliation.

“Well done,” Adrik congratulated Christie, as he put away his phone once more. “Another point. But I think I have still won.”

* * * *

He had indeed won.

Christie struggled with the double knot and bow at the back of the Gaultier dress in Adrik’s dressing-room. He hadn’t claimed his prize – hadn’t asked her his question yet, that required an honest answer.

She admitted defeat a second time, and went back out into the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, collar and tie undone, going through emails on his phone.

“
I need help undoing this knot you tied,” she said. “Please.”

He nodded and put the phone aside.

“I will be your undoing,” he replied. “Turn around.”

His words, deliberate or otherwise, could have done the job on their own. Christie pivoted on her bare feet, glad that he wouldn’t notice the fact that her heart had just started pounding like the impressive bass drum in the orchestra earlier.

He rested his hands on her hips in order to turn her a little more towards him and draw her closer. She had to go almost rigid in order to stop her legs from wanting to fold completely beneath her, that would drop her into his lap.

“
You made it tighter by pulling,” he observed, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he began to work on the knot.

“
I thought it would come loose if I just pulled on one end… why are you laughing?”

“
I’m not,” he smirked. “You say funny things sometimes. I don’t think you realise.”

“
Hmmph,” she grouched. “Well, so do you.”

Her heart almost stopped altogether as he leaned forward and bit into the knot to loosen it with his teeth.

“You know I’m going to have to keep this, don’t you?” he said, tickling the back of her arm with the end of the ribbon. “Can’t trust you with it.”

“
Like I said – I didn’t think a little piece of ribbon would give
you
any trouble…” Her hands shot up to the front of the dress to hold it in place, as she felt him start to unthread it. “You’re serious?”

“
It’s quite a long ribbon,” he remarked. “Maybe even two and half, three metres? It would take a while to escape from, if cleverly utilised.”

“
How do I know I can trust
you
with it?” Christie asked, warily.

He didn’t say anything, just continued unlacing the dress, eyelet by eyelet. Every tiny tug and swish of the satin ribbon seemed to tear into her.

“Did you think of a question to ask me yet?” she tried instead, determined to break the tension.

“
No.”
Tug, swish…
“I’ll tell you when I have.”

She tried to control her breathing instead of continue talking, hoping that her pulse rate would follow suit.
Tug, swish. Tug, swish…
She wobbled slightly, and his knees pressed into either side of her legs, steadying her at once.

“
Almost there,” he reassured her.

Christie scrunched her eyes tight shut, attempting to block the mental images playing out in her head. The final
swish
of the ribbon from its last eyelet was so painfully slow, it felt as though it was spooling her soul out with it.

“
Done,” he murmured at last, and held up his hand at her side to display the black satin offender coiled perfectly in his palm, before closing his fingers around it. “Mine now.”

If she had been any more dizzy at this point in time, Christie felt as though she would be a coiled heap on the floor herself.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“
No worries.” He took hold of her hips again as his knees released their grip on her legs, ensuring that she was steady on her feet, and placed a kiss on her bare spine before letting her go. “Get ready for bed. I’ve got some important correspondence to see to. You’ll probably be asleep when I’ve finished.”

“
Okay.”

She felt the handle of the door to the dressing room under her hand without a clue how she crossed the floor to reach it.

Once on the far side, she had to lean on it for support. The stain of a blush rising up her cheeks in the mirror was an accusation, like the unsupported gown she still held against her body.

And then she jumped violently, as he knocked.

How long had she been standing there for?

“
I’m going down to use the computer in the study,” he called through, without trying to come in. “So I won’t keep you up.”

“
Okay,” she repeated. It seemed to be the only word she was capable of.

There was a pause, until she thought she heard him step away from the door.

“Don’t do anything I’d enjoy,” he added, as he apparently moved away. “Goodnight, Christie.”

“
Goodnight… Adrik.”

She heard the click of the main door to the bedroom, and her bursting lungs deflated weakly. The strength in her legs simultaneously gave way, and she permitted herself to slide down into a sitting position on the carpet.

It’s only jet-lag
, she rationalised.
I just need a good night’s sleep. And not – whatever HE was just implying…

* * * *

“Cold one?” Lucas greeted Adrik in the kitchen.

The TV was already on the
Russia Today
channel, and the resident housekeeper-in-crime was doing a terrible deed to the ovens, with rubber gloves and something effervescent and citrus-scented.

“
No – just coffee.” Adrik went to the machine and set it up himself.

“
Your bachelor days are over then.” Lucas grinned, pulling off one glove, and tapped his gold teeth. “This is the only place to keep your money safe now. And they still try to pull them out in your sleep.”

“
Have a burglar alarm fitted,” Adrik suggested. “If you come up with a good design, I’ll even invest in it. Why are you cleaning the oven again?”

“
Bastard cat.” Lucas brandished a scourer. “Tried to steal my special marmalade ham from right under my nose. Marmalade footprints all over kitchen this evening.”

“
You should start a business in burglar alarms for all small domestic needs, by the sound of things.” Adrik added Demerara sugar to his coffee.

“
Are you needing any more love-letters?” Lucas chuckled.

“
Yes,” Adrik replied, and picked up his cup to take into the study with him. “The ones you left in my room were all too small.”

Lucas’s laugh echoed in a sinister fashion from within the oven.

Adrik sat down at the idling computer monitor in his study next to the den, and tapped on the search engine. After a sip of his drink, he typed in
Christie Harding relationship.

A number of news and image matches were promptly listed.

None of the results, regarding this particular Christie, were over two days old.

All referred to
Christie Harding and Adrik Maksimov relationship.
Google even suggested it, as the search term most requested.

He skipped forward through the list. Nothing else. A few other women named Christie Harding, or with similar names came up.

He tried images. Again – only matches two days old, or less.

“
Not right,” he muttered aloud. “So
who
is she referring to…?”

He tried a few other search terms, including
cohabiting
,
married
and
engaged
. But still – nothing pertaining to this Christie, unless it referred to himself.

Why would she lie about not being available? To put him off? To hide another agenda? A criminal most certainly would – but a smart criminal would ensure it was a story that could be supported. Not a dead end. Not one with no easy alibi.

Adrik had sensed from her reactions to his digging so far that she was genuinely involved with someone. Perhaps not someone as special as she believed, from what he could tell. Someone who didn’t know how to treat her, he had initially assumed.