Claudine (20 page)

W
hen the morning light roused her, she could hear Andrei in the shower and smell the aroma of coffee in the air. Andrei had left her a cup steaming hot on the bedside table. She sipped at it, thick with real cream, sugar and a faint taste of mocha. She usually drank her coffee black but found Andrei’s version heavenly. A demure print dress and some slip-ons lay on the chair beside the bed. She stretched, put them on, got a comb from her purse and dragged it through her tangled hair. She felt surprisingly refreshed and strong but in the clear light of day dreaded facing Andrei. Her stomach actually sank at the thought of it. She was ashamed of letting go so completely with him last night. And she rarely felt embarrassed.

Now that she was thinking rationally, Maria knew what a huge mistake she’d made. What on earth had possessed her? Residual fear from the attack? Relief that her stalker had been caught? The gratitude she felt toward Andrei for catching him? She cursed her stupidity. Just when their lives could return to normal, she screwed it up by sleeping with her best friend. It had been nothing more than a night of wild pleasure, she told herself. And that’s all it would ever be. One night only—as advertised.

She could still hear the water jetting onto the tiles in Andrei’s bathroom. She tiptoed into the living room and pulled open the coffee table drawer. The box of condoms was half empty. So he’d had other women here, she mused, and likely not that long ago. Maybe last night was just a blip on the radar for him too.

Maria downed the rest of her coffee and wandered into the kitchen for a refill. It was large, the kind often found in older buildings, big enough for a dining table and chairs. This too he’d renovated, with limestone counters, fancy cabinets, black enamel appliances. Tramp got up from his bed, thumping his tail when he saw her. She scratched the rough fur on his neck.

The apartment windows were old, their metal frames rusting from the salt air, but they opened easily. The sounds of early morning activity floated through the window. A few people—dog walkers, joggers and kids with their moms—were already out on the boardwalk. The water was calm and the sun already burned above the horizon. The sand looked damp. It must have rained in the night.

Maria turned from the view and saw a tiny alcove off the kitchen. Andrei’s office. It was set up with a desk and a laptop. His cell phone lay beside the computer. A few papers were scattered
about but he had no filing cabinet. All their business files were digitized. For the sake of privacy, hers and her clients’, she and Andrei had agreed long ago to avoid the trail of hard copies. That wasn’t what caught her attention.

Four photographs sat on a shelf above the desk. One of an older couple, the woman beaming into the camera, the man with his arm protectively around her. The other three were of Maria. All of them images taken on their business trips. She recognized one as being outside the Musée d’Orsay in Paris; she’d worn a simple black blouse and skirt. She remembered Andrei clicking the shutter and saying, “You look like a young Brigitte Bardot.” She’d laughed at the comparison but had been secretly pleased.

The last in the row he must have shot recently in Cannes, when she’d gazed out to sea. He’d caught her in semiprofile as the breeze blew her blond hair. The kind of pictures a lover would take. Her mood plunged. He’d been nursing a fantasy about her. For how long?

Her eyes fell on the wastebasket full of crumpled paper. She picked up one of the pages; it crinkled as she unfolded it. In Andrei’s handwriting was the hateful poem that had been tacked to her photo in San Francisco. The name of the town, Siret, had been crossed out and the name of the orphanage, Spital Neuropshici di Copii, written beside it.

She put down her cup without refilling it and walked back into the living room just as Andrei emerged from the hall leading to his bedroom. The water had turned his hair darker and curlier. His skin glistened with a few stray drops. The sight of him like that made Maria want nothing more than to feel his hands on her again. She lowered her eyes and fought off the impulse.

“You look much better,” he said, glancing at her clothing, “although that dress isn’t exactly your style. My neighbor Ana lent it to me, along with those slip-ons. They’ll do for you to wear when we go to the hospital. Are you hungry? I can make you some crepes.”

He leaned over to kiss her, and the attractive scent of his aftershave nearly drove her crazy; his lips were soft, and the ferocious rush of wanting him welled up in her again. She summoned all her willpower and pulled away.

He took her hand and tried to make a joke out of her response. “You don’t like kissing in the morning?”

Maria stepped away from him and struggled to rid herself of the intense attraction she felt. She reminded herself that her reaction was only a physical trick her body was playing on her. It meant nothing. She held up the crumpled paper. “I found this in the wastebasket under your desk.”

He ran his fingers through his wet curls and frowned. “What were you doing looking through my trash?”

“I went into the kitchen to get some more coffee and I noticed the scrunched up papers. I got curious.”

“I wrote both the poems out, just trying to see if there were any patterns. Sometimes you can spot similarities in something handwritten you can’t see on the screen.”

Maria set her lips in a tight line. “Hardly anyone knows the actual name of the orphanage I was adopted from.”

“They do if you tell them. You described your nightmare at dinner last month and the ordeal you went through there. Remember?” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t think—”

“No.” Maria said quickly. “I recall our conversation now. I’m
sorry. Listen, there’s something else we need to talk about.” She lowered her eyes, not able to look him in the face. “Last night was . . . we shouldn’t have let it go that far. I shouldn’t have. It was just . . . the way everything ended up shaking out. I felt vulnerable. And then coming here, you looking after me, the music, talking about our families.”

He was looking at her quizzically, so she blurted it out.

“Having sex with you was a mistake.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She had to shut this down now and his reaction meant only a sharp blade would do. “You’re my friend. One of my dearest,
and
my business manager. We can’t be lovers. And to tell the truth, I have no desire to be that for you.”

He reached out and touched her chin, turned her face so she had no choice but to look at him. His eyes bored into her. “I don’t believe you. You weren’t pretending last night. You loved every minute of it.”

Maria stepped back to gain some distance between them. “What are you talking about? What do you think I do with all those other men? I fake it for a living. You didn’t pay for it, Andrei, but there’s really no difference. I showed my gratitude to you. That’s all. Don’t read anything else into it.”

His held himself rigidly. His jaw where he’d taken the punch was still swollen and bruised. He ran his hand over it as if she’d just slapped him hard.

The dog had followed Andrei into the living room. He flopped his tail, looked from one to the other as if trying to assess why the voices suddenly turned harsh.

Andrei’s expression hardened. “You’re right. No matter how
well you dress it up, you’re still just a prostitute. Imagine me, of all people, forgetting that. You know, all this time I worked for you, I’ve been curious. What was worth so much money?”

Her cheeks flushed angrily. “And did you find out?”

Maria had demeaned him; his words carried an even harsher sting.

“You’ve got a knockout body for sure. But let’s just say I’m glad I got it for free.”

CHAPTER
22

Maria grabbed her bag and fumbled for her sunglasses, her cheeks still aflame. “No need to drive me anywhere, Andrei. You’ve done enough, I think.”

She marched out of his apartment. Taxis in Brighton Beach were light on the ground anyway and this early in the morning, nonexistent. After asking directions from several shopkeepers, she climbed the stair to the subway. The platform shook when the train approached, as though a small tremor rocked it. It took her over an hour to get uptown and her headache returned with a vengeance. On the ride she phoned her doctor, who set up an immediate appointment for her at the Columbia University Medical Center, and then she phoned Lillian and asked her to meet her at the apartment later.

When Maria learned about the threatening texts, she had felt like her world was slowly disintegrating. That was nothing compared to losing Andrei. Now that they had quarreled so bitterly,
it felt like a bomb had gone off. And she only had herself to blame; she’d egged him on. She was an expert on male physique, after all. She knew which sensitive areas to stroke, how to use her tongue to coax sensation. She’d plied all the tricks of the trade in some misguided attempt to make him love her. Some of her clients would deliberately hold back from climaxing, stage a sexual contest. Rarely did they last. If she had so much self-control with them, why then had she blown it so totally with Andrei? Why had she acted as if she were some infatuated groupie who couldn’t control her own urges?

After being diagnosed with a mild concussion but no lasting damage, Maria left the hospital and reached home with a lighter heart. Lillian was waiting for her when she walked in the door. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d been together and the sight of her dear friend was almost too much. Maria threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely.

Lillian pushed her back, held her at arm’s length and searched her face. “My God, you look terrible. And where did you get that awful rag you’re wearing? What’s happened to you?”

“I have a lot to tell you. Would you mind fixing us a drink while I jump in the shower? I feel like I’m carrying around all the sweat and grime of the city on my bare back.”

Lillian, Maria noted, looked wonderful in contrast. Refreshed, composed, even sporting a new hairstyle, a short pixie cut that suited her face.

The cascade of hot water and rose-scented body wash restored Maria’s spirits. It would all work out, she thought as she towel-dried her hair. Ups and downs occurred in every partnership. She brushed her teeth and snuggled into comfortable jog-ging
pants and a simple white cotton top. Lillian had gin and tonics waiting in the living room.

Maria curled up on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her and let out a deep breath. It felt good to be home again.

Lillian smiled as if she could read her thoughts. “I missed you. Staying at my cousin’s was great; she has four kids and they’re so much fun. But I missed our life here.” She held up her hand. The swelling had subsided and the patches of raw tissue were healing nicely. “Back to work soon.”

“Lillian, wait. I’m going to have to cancel on my clients next week.”

“Why? You can manage without me temporarily—no?”

Maria slid her fingers under her top and pulled it up to show her breasts.

Lillian put a hand to her mouth when she saw the angry red half circles and bruises. “Oh no! What happened?”

Maria swallowed, savoring the slightly sour tang of the tonic water. “We caught the guy who’s been threatening me. Andrei beat the crap out of him, but not before he roughed me up.”

Lillian shook her head in sympathy when Maria told her about the attack. “He’s lucky Andrei didn’t kill him for that. He hides it well but he has a bad temper. I’ve seen it.”

“Me too. Very recently.”

Lillian set her drink down and leaned toward Maria. “You don’t mean he’s mad at you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why? He’s devoted to you.”

“That’s the problem. He took me to his place last night to watch over me because of the battering I’d gone through. He
was very kind and supportive and—I don’t know what got into me, Lil, but we ended up making love. And this morning I found photos he’d taken of me. All this time I had no idea he had a thing for me. I’m afraid we might not be able to keep working together.”

Maria did not see the expression of understanding she’d expected to on Lillian’s face. Instead her smile extended from ear to ear. “You’re right, things
will
change. It’s about time you let some love into your life.”

“Well it won’t be with Andrei. We crucified each other pretty thoroughly this morning.”

“Really—what happened?”

“There’s no way he and I could carry on the business together if we were lovers. Emotions would keep getting in the way. He’d be insanely jealous or overprotective, or probably not want me to continue at all. Just like the other boyfriends I’ve had.” She took a deep drink, felt the gin burn her throat. “I told him it was just a one-nighter, that we should put it behind us. He didn’t take it very well. What the hell, Lillian? Why did he start daydreaming about me? Why did he have to go and ruin everything?”

Lillian swirled her drink then sipped at it thoughtfully. “You must be one of the most naive harlots in the world, my dear. Night after night you climb into your car beside him, as beautiful and seductive as can be, every last detail of your appearance designed to entice. I should know. It takes me hours to achieve the effect. For heaven’s sake, Andrei is a man. How could he not want you, seeing you like that every night? And you confide in him like he’s your best friend.”

“He
is
, Lillian. You both are. But I’ve never done or said anything to lead him on.”

“That just makes it worse.”

“But why? We’ve been together for three years.”

“Maybe he can see what you can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“That the end of your business is near. And I’m not talking about your stalker. What do they call it for pills—shelf life? At what your men pay for you, you have a shelf life too. They are fickle. They can afford to be. I told you before, Maria. You are not a new face anymore. Andrei knows this. And maybe he thinks that now there’s a chance for him.”

“You’re not very surprised by all of this—are you?”

Lillian paused, deciding how to frame her response. “He talked to me about it. A while ago.”