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‘I’m dreading it,’ she confessed.
He experienced a measure of guilt for his lascivious thoughts. He needed to focus on this. It mattered.
‘He hasn’t asked for his parents?’ he said slowly.
Maisy folded her napkin. ‘No.’
There was a long silence. He was clearly waiting for an explanation, but Maisy didn’t know where to start without being disloyal to Anais.
For once he didn’t push her, and Maisy heard herself saying, ‘I don’t know how it is in Russia, but often in England in high-flying families the children can be overlooked.’
Alexei went very still. ‘You’re telling me Leo was a neglectful parent?’
Maisy suddenly felt uncomfortable, realising she had stepped unwarily into dangerous territory. She wasn’t the only person at the table protective of the Kulikovs’ memory. Alexei wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
‘It depends on your definition of neglect.’ She decided to talk to her plate. It seemed the easiest thing to do. ‘He was a busy man—you know that. He wasn’t always around.’
‘Kostya is an infant,’ Alexei said with some assurance. ‘It’s natural his mother would be his primary caregiver.’
‘Anais had some difficulties.’ Maisy released the breath she had been holding. ‘She was very young—only twenty-one when she had him. She wasn’t particularly close to her own mother. It’s hard to explain. Anais didn’t spend a lot of time with Kostya.’
There—she’d said it. It was out there. She looked up to find Alexei was staring at her, and it wasn’t a look she was accustomed to from him.
‘What sort of concoction is this, Maisy? You’re trying to make me believe Leo Kulikov wasn’t a good father?’
‘It’s not a concoction, and I’m not saying they were bad people,’ she insisted. ‘I’m just trying to make you understand what’s going on in Kostya’s little head.’
‘I don’t need you for that, dushka, I’ve got a child psychologist who will deal with that problem. What I’m more interested in is why you’re so keen to make me think the worst.’
‘I’m not,’ Maisy protested. ‘You wanted to know—’ She broke off, upset by the contempt she could see forming in his eyes.
‘I know how much Leo loved his boy,’ said Alexei, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Maisy pushed the remainder of her plate away. ‘I’m not hungry any more,’ she said in a low voice.
Alexei leaned towards her. ‘Listen to me, Maisy. I don’t want to hear these stories. They don’t do you any credit. I wasn’t going to bring this up with you, but I’ve got some questions about your background I’d like cleared up before we go any further.’
‘My background?’ She hated the nervous tremor in her voice. It made her sound guilty of something.
‘Daughter of an unemployed single mother, yet privately educated, and you’d never held down a job until you appeared in the Kulikov household two years ago.’ He wielded the facts as if they were accusations.
Maisy flinched from them. He’d brought back so many memories she had hoped to leave behind for ever. She didn’t want them here tonight on this Italian rooftop. She wanted to be the woman she was in the process of becoming. She wanted him to be the man she had imagined him to be.
All of a sudden she felt the past was very close to the surface.
‘How did you find out all that?’ she asked, gathering herself together.
‘It’s my business to know. What? Did you think I’d just let you in the door without a background check? Give me a break.’
‘You could have asked me,’ she said, with no little dignity.
‘Yes, but would I believe you,’ he replied silkily.
The unfairness of his accusation hurt. ‘Probably not. You seem to think I’m a liar, but to what purpose I have no idea.’
He was looking at her as if she had done something unforgivable—as if she’d crawled out from under a rock somewhere. It would have been easier to make up some story, she realised sadly, tell him the same lies everybody else had expected from her: Leo and Anais were a super couple, with a super life and a super baby. But the truth was—like everyone—they had been flawed, and because they’d been larger than life their flaws had enlarged accordingly.
‘Tell me,’ said Alexei with deceptive calm, ‘why do you think I invited you to have dinner with me tonight?’
Maisy knew she was walking into a trap. She would answer and he would say something clever and she would look a bigger fool. So she didn’t say anything. She stared endlessly at her half-empty champagne glass as the seconds ticked by.
