Born to be Bad (International Bad Boys Book 3) (11 page)

Simon, poor Simon, who adored Milly and had done his level best to help after he had left her to deal with Roman and Clifford that night, lost his cool then. Guilt caught up with him and he looked straight at Roman and his expression was one of disgust. “Double standards, Roman. You don’t seem to mind when the paying guest is you.”

Simon might just as well have kneed him in the balls for his words knocked the breath out of Roman. He had been sure, positive in fact, that what had had happened between them had been as he remembered it to be, but even that was turned around now. Clearly, Milly had discussed that night with Simon.

That night, for Roman, was a rare oasis that he escaped to.

That night, Roman had been sure, had been only between them.

He looked to Milly, but she looked away.

“You told him?” Roman asked but Milly didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

Because she had.

There was a very tense stand off, and Milly could feel her face on fire.

“We’re going to go,” Isaak said and went to lead his brother out, but Roman shrugged him off and stalked ahead. Isaak and Kate followed him but Roman had the last word as security arrived.

“It’s him you need to remove,” Roman said jerking his thumb in the direction of Clifford, before Isaak practically frogmarched him to his suite.

“You need to listen,” Isaak said once they were there and Isaak had Roman against the wall. “We need to sit down and talk. This is your past . . . ”

“I don’t care about the past,” Roman shouted. “And I don’t care about the future.”

He cared only for tonight.

“Somewhere in these books is our heritage . . . ”

“Did you really think we were going to sit pouring over history books tonight trying to work out who our grandfather is?” Roman said. “Love’s got you fucked in the head.”

“There’s a letter for you from Ivor . . . ”

“Get out.” Roman said as he shrugged Isaak off. “Both of you. Just get the hell out.”

“Go,” Isaak said to Kate. “Check how that woman is and tell her we will do what we can to help if she wants to press charges. I’ll be down in a minute.”

As Kate left, the phone was ringing and Isaak answered it.

“He’s been kicked out of better places than this dump,” Isaak said and hung up then looked to his younger brother.

“You have to leave the hotel in the morning.”

“So,” Roman shrugged. “Go. Go and play happy families with your wife.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“Well, I don’t really care what you want tonight, Isaak.”

“That woman downstairs,” Isaak said. “She’s that Milly isn’t she. The one you took out for a drink that day. Is she the reason that we met here?”

“Don’t bring her into this,” Roman shouted, because he was doing everything he could to keep Milly out of his hell. “Just get out.”

*     *     *

When the Zaretskys
had gone, Milly went to the kitchenette and gulped a glass of water and she didn’t even turn her head when a little while later Simon came in.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Milly said. “You practically told everyone in there that I’d slept with Roman.”

“No I didn’t,” Simon said. “I was pointing out that he looks at you all the time. And he does, Milly, he can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Please.” Milly said. Even if no-one else had understood, she knew that Roman had got the inference; she had watched him struggled for composure, and, unable to look at her, walk out.

She knew she had let him down.

“Clifford’s in his room and management are speaking with him. Roman’s going to be asked to leave in the morning.”

He heard Milly’s mirthless laugh.

“I know it’s unfair, but they’re not going to take Roman’s side. Clifford’s a judge . . . ”

“Does anyone care that he had his hand up my skirt?”

“I know that he did,” Simon said. “And it completely sucks, but the powers that be aren’t going to take him on, and, at the end of the day, Roman was always going to lose it.”

“Only because everyone’s waiting for him to.”

Milly pressed her fingers into her eyes as Simon walked out and then there was a soft knock at the door and she looked up to see Kate.

“Simon said I could come and have a word with you. We wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” Milly nodded. “How’s Roman?”

“I wish I could say that he’s fine . . . ” Kate gave a helpless shrug. “Isaak’s trying to talk him down but he’s hell bent on hitting the self-destruct button. We had to break some difficult news tonight.” Kate hesitated. “More than he was expecting to hear, I think.”

Milly looked back at Kate. “If Isaak can’t stop, Roman. No-one can.”

“I know that.” Kate gave a thin smile. “I just wanted to check that you were okay and if you want to make a complaint against that man, then we’ll back you.”

“Thanks.”

Alone in the kitchenette, Milly stood for what felt like ages.

She went to the tiny window and looked down at the gathered press, no doubt on high alert because Isaak and Kate had arrived.

And would soon be leaving, Milly knew.

Soon, Roman would be out there, and giving the press what they wanted—his mug shot.

They were waiting for his downfall and were determined that tonight they would get it.

It was his lack of remorse that the press loathed and tonight they would make him pay for his recurrent “no comment.” They wanted him to trash Ava, the press wanted Roman’s chinks in his armour prized open.

She
could stop Roman, Milly knew that and she wasn’t throwing herself down in some sort of altruistic gesture, she simply knew that she could.

More than that, she wanted to.

She was finished with working here and, no, she had no romantic illusions as to parenting alongside Roman, Milly even let out a soft laugh as she considered telling her child how they’d met.

“Well, Daddy mistook me for a prostitute . . . ” Milly imagined some future conversation, and the laughter strangled in her throat and then she admitted to herself the truth.

She wanted Roman, not as a father for her baby and not just as the lover she had known. She wanted to glimpse his darkness. Being made love to by Roman had almost brought her to her knees.

How much easier would it be to walk out of his suite tomorrow, knowing the chaos she was leaving behind and feeling better about her decision that she didn’t want Roman fully in her life.

There was more though.

The thought of knowing Roman in that way had Milly turned on.

“Don’t go home yet,” Simon said as Milly came out of the kitchenette with her bag over her shoulder and her coat on. “We need to fill out some forms and talk through what happened tonight.”

“We shall,” Milly agreed. “But not right now. I’ll be in tomorrow at nine and I’m going to report what Clifford did to me tonight.” Milly said and she watched Simon blink.

“He’s a judge,” Simon said.

“But not the jury,” Milly said and brushed past Simon.

He stood there and let out a tense breath, as he looked at the chaos in his lovely club—there were broken glasses from the upturned table, there was food squashed into the carpet and spilled drinks.

But all that paled when he took a pile of dishes into the kitchenette and saw Milly’s uniform neatly hanging behind the door.

“Oh, Milly,” Simon said, realizing she had next to nothing on beneath that coat. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“W
hat are you
going to do?” Isaak asked.

“See where else I can get kicked out of,” Roman said. “I’m sure you’ll see it on the news in the morning.”

“Roman.”

“Please . . . ” Roman interrupted. “I am happy for you and Kate and I guess in time I’ll get around to dealing with the other stuff, but right now I just want you to leave.”

Isaak nodded. They had been through many dark times and both knew that this was one of them and something that had to be faced alone.

“I will. Just tell me, Roman, what is going on between you and Milly?”

“Nothing,” Roman said. “And for her sake, I intend to keep it that way.”

*     *     *

Finally alone, Roman
looked at the pile of history books Kate and Isaak had bought along and tried to fathom that somewhere in there was perhaps a link to his true grandfather.

He picked up the letter from Ivor and his throat tightened when he saw the familiar handwriting. He wanted to shred it unopened, if there was a fire he would toss it upon it unread, but curiosity won and Roman slit it open.

Dear Roman,

I have asked that Isaak be told first and for him to break it to you, so, if you are reading this, by now you will know that I am your father.

Perhaps you will never read this letter—I am quite sure you will tear it up.

Please hear what I have to say before you do.

Roman resisted the urge to flush the letter now, yet Ivor’s blunt approach had him breathe deeply and read on.

You are the most loyal person I have ever known and you have a strong sense of justice. I know that this would make the love I had for your mother inexcusable to you.

I was never close to Boris. I tried to be, but he was an angry child and later an angry man.

His father, the man I called father when I was growing up, was the same; in fact, he was worse.

I did not understand the men in my family and always felt apart from them. I completed my time in the army and returned to find out Boris had married. I met your mother and saw her misery. On sight, I fell in love with her but I did nothing about it. I decided to move away and it was then that your grandmother, my mother, took me aside and gave me jewels and money to start my new life in London.

I found out then that there was a reason I had always felt so estranged—when Boris was a toddler my mother had had an affair, though she would not tell me who my father was. When he found out that my mother was pregnant, he gave her some jewels that had been in his family and a considerable sum of money to give to me when I was old enough.

I left for London, but I returned to Russia two years later to visit my own mother who was very ill, as I had so many questions, but she was too weak to answer them. Annika was there, and it was then that the affair between your mother and I started.

I doubt you will ever forgive me—you will be loyal to Boris, I know that. Your loyalty is one of the many things I love and admire about you—you defend the inexcusable. The same with Ava, you refused to slur her name to the press.

I can only hope that one day you might extend that courtesy to me. I have learned a lot from you, Roman—how you could still be there for Boris after all he did, has caused me to re-examine things.

I had a far more privileged life than Boris. I can now understand, though not forgive, his anger.

I don’t ask for your love and forgiveness, Roman.

I pray for them, of course.

I do ask that you trust, Roman.