Russian Billionaire's Secret Baby Page 5

  “I’d get sad,” I said, thinking back on the strange melancholy I’d felt when finishing a project. “When I was done with that project and it was over, I’d feel a sense of loss, like when you gave away your favorite stuffed cat to Mandy when she moved away. You were so happy to help her, but you still felt sad to lose your kitty, right?”

  She nodded, thinking about my words.

  “Good things can still make us sad. Finishing a project might make you sad, and that’s okay.”

  “But I still have to finish it?” she asked.

  I nodded, tucking a stray strand of her blonde hair behind her ears. “Yep, you still have to finish it,” I said gently, smiling at her.

  She nodded, and I pulled her in for another hug. “I’ll get the paints, okay?” I said as she started toward the wall, staring at it like she was reacquainting herself with an old friend. With the tub of colors at her side and deep concentration on her face, she began to paint.

  A news van pulled in, and I felt my spine snap straight.

  Ashley didn’t seem to notice, she was so buried in her painting.

  The van door slid open, and a beautiful woman slid out and hurried toward me. “We hoped we’d catch you here!” she said.

  I sighed.

  “You’ve been dodging our calls.” She gave me a blinding grin, and I wanted to slap her.

  Some people couldn’t take hints, I guessed.

  “We were just hoping to do a segment on the mural, but we didn’t know the painter was a little girl.” The woman turned to stare at Ashley.

  My heart pounded painfully in my chest, and I struggled to hide my worry. “Yeah, she’s only eight. I was worried the attention wouldn’t be helpful for her.” It was a lie. A cowardly lie. I didn’t want her on the news because he might see. And I had a feeling if he saw Ashley, saw her talent, saw her with me, he’d figure things out.

  “It could also jump start her career.” The woman turned that smile back in my direction, and I winched. She was right. It could make Ashley’s career even this young. It could bring an agent and all the things that could come with that.

  “Look, it’s just a fluff piece. I usually do stupid segments, like the bit about the group that broke the world record for the most cats wearing tutus in one place.” Her grin was frozen in place, but her voice had taken on an edge that startled me. “This bit would make me feel like I did something, you know? And it would help her, I think. She’s so talented.” The woman glanced back at Ashley, who still didn’t seem to notice us as she worked.

  Actually, this could be the kick in the pants I needed. If there was a news segment, I’d have to stop putting off telling Vlad. I couldn’t stand the thought of him finding out from the news, so this could give me that little push to just tell him already.

  “Okay,” I said, and the woman began to happy dance. “But!” I added, and she stopped dancing to study me. “Only if Ashley agrees to it.” Some part of me hoped she’d say no and we could avoid this whole thing. Still, it only seemed right to give her the option to say no. I wanted her to do something because she wanted to and was comfortable with it.

  The woman nodded.

  “She’s set to finish it today. But don’t set anything up until I get her okay, okay?” I said.

  “Of course! I’m Sally, by the way.” She offered me her hand, and I shook it.

  “Aurora,” I said.

  “It’s a pleasure.”

  I nodded and walked toward Ashley, every step echoing like gunshots in my ear. Everything inside was telling me this was a bad idea.

  “Hey, Ashley,” I said softly. She jolted like I’d woken her up and stared at me. “The news wants to feature your art in a segment.”

  Clouds crossed her expression, and she glanced over her shoulder at the news van.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said.

  “I want to.” Her voice was firm.

  Something in me told me to ask questions. “Why do you want to, honey?” I asked, hunkering down to her level once more.

  Her eyes locked on mine, and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Maybe my dad will find us.”

  Pain lanced through my heart, and I pressed my fist to my chest as if I could push it back down. Ashley walked past me and headed toward the news van as I stood, staring after her, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.

  I walked over and caught the tail end of Sally’s explanation. “We would love to get some video of you working on the mural, if that’s okay with you and your mom?” Sally glanced at me.

  “It’s up to her,” I said, nodding at my daughter as she peeked over her shoulder at me.

  “It’ll take us about a month to get it all edited and ready to air, so don’t expect to be a celebrity when you go to school tomorrow,” Sally said to Ashley, who giggled.

  I watched them capture footage of Ashley painting, watched my daughter finish up her painting, watched life happening right before my eyes as I stood around and enjoyed it.

  As happy as I felt, I also felt like I was holding a stick of dynamite and the fuse was getting shorter and shorter. I knew my secret was going to be blown wide open. I just had to hope I’d stay intact once it exploded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vladmir

  “Can we talk?”

  I glanced up at Aurora. She’d worked hard today, staying late after everyone else had left and went home.

  My heart double tapped in my chest, and I nodded. “Of course.”

  She walked into the cottage and sat beside me on the couch. “Long day?”

  And I was thrust back into the past.

  She sat beside me on the couch, her shoulder touching mine gently as I leaned in to kiss her again. I lingered a second longer this time before backing off an inch. The moonlight filtered past the rivulets of water streaming down the glass roof to make her blonde hair glow almost ethereally as the few candles still burning gave off their golden glow.

  I could taste her sadness as my words hung between us like a battle cry.

  The scent of rain filled my nose, and her soft perfume still tickled my senses. Chilly wind swept in through the open door, and she closed her eyes for an instant as the breeze shivered her hair.

  “Do you want me to quit school for you?” she whispered. Her eyes were so green as they jumped back and forth between mine.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Is that what you’re asking me to do?” Her whisper was raw with pain, but still steady.

  “Yes.”

  She glanced away from me. Inhaled deeply. Released the breath. “I can’t do that,” she whispered finally.

  “You could, though.”

  Her lips pressed together, and as I leaned in to kiss her again, she pulled back. “I couldn’t. I love you, Vlad, but I won’t give up my sculpting for you. If you loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to.”

  The words stung—because they were true.

  Instead of telling her what I’d been thinking—that I was wrong and I was being a selfish asshole, I felt anger flowing through my veins.

  “If I loved you?” I could feel the anger rising within me like a tide. “If I loved you?”

  She trembled in the face of my rage, and I hated myself more every second that ticked by. “So you think I don’t love you?” I asked, demanding an answer.

  “I think you don’t ask people you love to give up on the things that matter to them, no,” she said calmly.

  “Fuck you and the high horse you rode in here on,” I snarled. With that, I stormed out of the cottage. When I finally came to my senses and decided to apologize, I went home, expecting to find her there.

  But she was gone.

  Just…gone.

  “I’m glad you’re still painting,” she said softly, jolting me out of my thoughts.

  “Do you still sculpt?” I asked.

  She shook her head, and I felt my heart squeeze. Her eyes lowered to the floor as if she couldn’t quite look at me. “No, I’ve been
…too busy with life, you know?”

  “That’s a shame,” I said, glad I wasn’t the actual reason she’d quit. “I’ve never seen someone with your talent,” I said honestly.

  “Thank you,” she said, rubbing an invisible speck on her skirt with the tip of her index finger.

  “I’m sorry I asked you to quit,” I said. “I should never have done that. It was shitty of me. I was so selfish and shortsighted.”

  She peeked up at me, a tiny grin on her lips. “Was?”

  “Don’t get cute with me.” I couldn’t help the grin tugging the corner of my lips. “I did love you, I was just too stupid to be as good to you as you deserved. I let my jealousy and possessiveness get the better of me. I had no right to try to keep you to myself, and I sure as hell didn’t have any right to ask you to quit for me.”

  Her eyes sparkled with tears as she whispered, “It means a lot, thank you.”

  The weight on my soul lightened, but didn’t entirely disappear. I saw sadness behind her eyes and wanted to hold her and kiss her until that pain was replaced by the joy of a woman who knew she was loved.

  As if she noticed my expression, she leaned into me again. “I forgive you,” she said. The weight lifted more, and I took a deep breath.

  “And I’m glad you’ve finally gotten the recognition you deserved.” Her eyes wandered the room, picking out several projects in various stages of progress.

  The words squeezed my chest tightly. She’d always believed in me. Always rooted for me to succeed, even when I’d been mad, when I’d raged and walked out after our spats, she’d still always taken care to cover the paintings that needed to be covered, to keep lights off them, to make sure they didn’t get wet.

  It was something I’d always loved about her. She’d cared so much. Too damn much. She’d cared when she should have walked away. She’d stayed when I’d hurt her. She’d been there when I’d needed her most. But it had taken losing her to show me how much I needed her.

  “It was because of you,” I said.

  She stared at the open door of the cottage.

  “It was after you left that I painted that. It landed me the agent. It got things going for me.”

  Her green eyes met mine. “So me leaving you brought out the best in you?” Her lips curved a bit at the corners. “Not a good argument for wanting to try again.”

  “Did I say I wanted to try again?” I asked.

  “I’m pretty sure you did,” she said, her eyes lowering to my lips before coming back up to meet mine again.

  “I don’t remember saying that,” I said, leaning in close but hovering a millimeter away from her lips.

  Her eyes studied my face, gazing longingly at my lips, then boring deep into mine like she could read my mind if she looked hard enough. “I think you did.”

  I pressed my lips to hers. “I don’t think so.” I kissed her again, inhaling her sweet scent and reveling in the taste of her on my lips. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “What?” she said, her eyebrows meeting over a wrinkle.

  “You asked if we could talk,” I said, remembering when she’d come in here. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk about how long my day was,” I teased lightly.

  All of a sudden, panic flashed in her eyes.

  Startled, I backed off a tiny bit. “You okay?”

  The flash was gone as quickly as it had come, and she stared at me. “Yeah, I’m fine. I uh…” She stood up, fixing her skirt before glancing at the door like escape was the only thing on her mind. She licked her lips, then jerked her thumb toward the door.

  “I, um, just remembered a thing I have to do.” She danced a step closer to the door. “Talk to you later?”

  I nodded, still confused. “Good talk. Have a good night.”

  As she stepped out the door, I called her name. She turned to me, her eyes wide and worried.

  “You’ve got my cell number. Call me, okay?”

  She nodded, still wide eyed like she’d seen a ghost, and quickly walked out of my line of sight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aurora

  I’d tried.

  I’d tried to tell him everything. His apology had been so sweet, his eyes so warm and kind and relieved when I’d told him I forgave him…

  But at that last second, I’d frozen up. It was like I hit a block in my brain every time I opened my mouth to let those words out. I thought about the years he’d missed, how much it was going to hurt him. I thought about how angry he might be. But then again, he seemed like a new man.

  Scratch that—not a new man, an improved version of the man I’d loved all those years ago.

  The man I still loved. Who was I kidding? I still loved him.

  “You seem a million miles away.”

  His voice pulled me back in. I’d been working so hard at my desk that he’d managed to sneak up on me and surprise me. When he’d asked me to lunch, that little bit of my brain that usually screamed for me to be careful had been stunned, and another voice had whispered that it would be fun.

  And here we were, eating lunch at this little pace he knew that reminded me of the café we’d loved so in college.

  “You know, it seems like you never really moved on,” I said.

  His brows knitted together.

  I struggled to find the words to explain myself. “The cottage and garden are like the ones from college. You said this is your favorite spot, and well…” I glanced around, spreading my palms a bit. “It’s like you’re stuck back then.”

  He took a sip of his coffee, staring down into the cup like the answers would form in the tiny bubbles around the dark rim. When his eyes met mine again, they were haunted.

  “I am. I’m stuck in that night.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he cupped the hot mug like it was the most delicate thing he’d ever held.

  “I can’t forget how we ended.” He took another drink, shifting in his chair like he was uncomfortable. Knowing who he was, I knew that discussing feelings had been taboo in his home, and that it wasn’t something he spoke easily about.

  As a boy, he’d grown up in Russia in a small speck of dust-sized city called Kasimov. His grandmother was the only one he’d really connected with, and his stories of her were always my favorite. Extreme poverty, parents that were not the loving type like I’d been blessed with, and a rough life had pushed him to succeed.

  Losing his beloved grandmother was the thing that had broken him. He’d promised her he’d take his art as far as he could, and I’d met him not long after. His English was incredible for someone self-taught, and I’d quickly found myself in a position where I’d been asked to help tutor him.

  I’d refused the offer to tutor him and had become his friend instead—then his lover.

  “I shouldn’t have left like I did.” I regretted my role in the way we’d ended too.

  I regretted the way I’d come into his life too. I’d barged right in and hurt him. It wasn’t supposed to wind up like it had. I had been going to meet him, to see if I could tutor him.

  But the second I’d met the man, I’d known there was no way I could spend those long hours trying to teach him anything. His English was great, just his accent was heavy and a bit hard to understand. Right away, I knew there was nothing I could teach him. And seeing the whisper of loneliness in his eyes echoed in his art, I’d known he needed a friend, not a tutor.

  He’d kissed me that first day. All had been wonderful—until my purse had dumped all over the ground, spilling the tutoring paperwork. He’d picked it up, then stared at me, hurt blossoming in his eyes.

  He’d been certain I was flirting with him to land a job, when nothing was further from the truth.

  “Please don’t put any of the blame on yourself; it’s not yours.” His voice was soft with the hint of a growl. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  I needed to tell him. Now would have been the perfect time. I could have told him I deserved more blame than he knew. I’m a terrible person too; we’re
both messed up, we both messed up, but we can make this work! I could feel it in my blood.

  I needed to tell him so he wouldn’t find out on the news. I owed him that much respect at least.

  “The cottage helps me feel closer to you,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee.

  “You’ve changed so much.” They weren’t the words I wanted or the ones I needed to say, but that gnawing fear in my gut held me back.

  “I thought I lost you. That can change a man. I like to think it made me a better one.” His dark eyes focused on me, and I felt like we were the only two people in the room. “I hoped for another chance, and I knew I needed to be better not to blow it again.”

  “I admit, I expected you to come after me and break down the door.” It wasn’t fear. And once I’d found out I was pregnant, I’d waited for him to come rolling in on thunder like fury. But he never had. And it had broken my heart.

  “I wanted to, believe me.” I watched all the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and neck tense as if he was struggling even then.

  I reached out and covered his hand with mine. “I’m proud of you. Of the man you’ve become.” I’d known he’d had the potential to become more than he’d been. And I was right. His fingers were warm under mine, and he lifted his other hand to cover both our hands.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  It was the perfect time to tell him. To open up more, to give more of myself like he’d done.

  “Do you think it was sex driven?” I asked.

  I expected an odd look, but his expression didn’t change, and I realized he’d thought about it too. And I wondered how much he’d analyzed our relationship. Had it been on repeat for him these last nearly nine years?

  “I thought it was at first,” he said honestly.

  And I appreciated his candor.

  “But since you,” he said as his eyes met mine, “I haven’t had a serious relationship. No one interests me, just you.”

  Warmth flooded my whole being. “Same for me.”

  It was true. I hadn’t had a serious relationship since him. My reasons were the same as his, just with a few more messy details. Like being a single mom. Like never wanting to bring anyone into Ashley’s life. Like wanting to make sure I focused on her and me first.