Yet Roman hadn’t.
Anya was angry.
Furious.
As she walked towards the group she made a beeline for Rachel. She was a stunning redhead who had recently retired as a dancer and had just started a blog about ballet. Anya had been alerted to it when she had checked her emails and had read it on the plane. To cover her disappointment, she smiled rather more brightly than she would usually.
‘I read your piece,’ Anya said. ‘It was amazing. Rachel, I will be in touch and we’ll have to see what we can do about tickets for opening night...’
Rachel had been fishing for them at Sev and Naomi’s wedding and Anya had blanked her.
She was trying not to be like that now.
Always she kept herself contained. Anya didn’t make friends easily, but she was starting to care deeply about these people who had come into her life since the night Daniil and Libby had come backstage.
She was terrified of opening up and letting anyone in, just to be hurt in the end.
Now, since Roman had returned it had become increasingly hard to keep herself in check and to cast feelings and emotions aside.
She could see Rachel’s surprise at the turnaround in her. Anya was surprised too but that was what Roman did, he changed her.
One night with him and she was turning back into her more emotional self.
They made their way over to the group.
‘Hi, Anya.’ Libby smiled, but Anya could see she that was tense.
And then she found out why as a car pulled up and Roman climbed out.
‘He turned up this morning,’ Libby said, though more to Rachel, her close friend, than to Anya. ‘It didn’t exactly go well.’
‘Oh...’ Rachel said. ‘Isn’t he the missing one?’
Libby gave a brief shake of her head, as if to say, It’s too complicated for now.
In contrast, Anya thought now was a very good time and made good on her promise that she would no longer cover for Roman and pretend she didn’t know where he had been all these years. Her voice was one of pure malice. ‘He was never missing. He’s been in Paris.’
‘You knew where he was?’ Libby accused. ‘And you didn’t tell Daniil...’
But Anya just shrugged. ‘You’ve heard of Russian mail-order brides?’ She sneered. ‘Roman was a mail-order groom to some bored, rich, middle-aged woman in Paris...’
‘He’s married?’ Daniil’s voice was like the crack of a whip and he didn’t wait for Anya’s response. Instead along with Nikolai and Sev they walked towards Roman and for the first time in years they were together again.
Anya watched as they greeted each other with handshakes—the four beautiful men that she had grown up alongside were finally reunited.
For as long as she could remember, one of them had had her heart.
Anya was holding onto it with all she had today.
She always dressed neutrally, but never more so than this morning. Her dress was sand-coloured, her shoes flat and she wore a thin cardigan to cover her arms. What was considered beautiful on stage at times drew whispers and stares so she covered up when out.
Anya would not let Roman think for a moment she had made an extra effort for him.
Her week in Paris so far had been hell.
There had been no formal practice as some of the dancers had gone home to Russia before preparations began seriously.
Anya had tortured herself first by going to the square where she had seen Roman with Celeste. She had then gone to the café, sat at the same table and ordered a meal, telling herself she would get back on the diet wagon tomorrow.
Instead she had wandered the streets, imagining him here.
With his wife.
It would hurt forever.
And she had sat at another café and eaten crepes, trying to fathom that Roman lived here.
And now back in London she stood silently watching the four men converse. She was torn between longing and anger as she looked at him and he pointedly didn’t meet her gaze.
In fact, he then turned his back to her.
‘Let’s go in,’ Libby said, and finally they moved into the church. Anya found herself sitting with Rachel and in the pew behind Roman.
He had offered not a single word of greeting.
Carry on ignoring me, Anya thought as her eyes almost stripped the skin from his neck, and after a moment he turned and his eyes and the set of his lips told her how cross he was.
‘Thanks so much for your discretion back there.’ He spoke to her in terse Russian. ‘I hadn’t yet told Daniil I was married.’
Anya just gave a scoffing laugh. ‘Rachel asked where you’d been, so I told her. Why would I lie for you, Roman?’
‘I’ll deal with you later.’
‘You wish.’ Anya smirked.
And then she saw it, the slight roll of his tongue in his cheek as he resisted a smile.
For that was them.
They knew their dance.
Except, Anya vowed, this time it would not end in bed.
Been there, done that, Anya’s eyes warned him, and I am so not going there again.
Yes, if people thought her cold, this man was the reason.
She had loved him.
With all her heart she had loved him and had thought foolishly that he had loved her back.
The service was beautiful.
But hell for both of them.
Anya could hardly stand to look at the baby.
Nadia.
Thanks to a life spent on a diet, and it had been even more strict these past two years, a baby was something she could never have. Over and over she told herself she didn’t want to be a mother, anyway. But watching Daniil, at the end of the service, hold his daughter brought a lump to her throat for the other thing, apart from Roman, that she could not have.
Yes, it was hard for both of them.
Watching his twin, clearly in love, perhaps made a mockery of what he and Celeste had had and Daniil had indicated he was furious that Roman had not told him about his wife.
Roman, who had never explained himself to anyone, did not know how to discuss it.
They spilled out of the church and into various cars and Anya quickly accepted an offer to ride with Naomi and Sev. She had only seen Naomi at her wedding, but she was very friendly and had also read Rachel’s blog. ‘I’d love to see you perform.’
As Sev and Naomi chatted about whether they could make it to Paris next month Anya’s mind was on two things.
Roman, of course, and also a large bag of peanut butter and chocolate cups that Naomi had pulled out of her bag along with a silver-wrapped gift for Nadia.
‘I don’t think we need to bring food,’ Sev said.
‘Everyone loves these.’ Naomi laughed. She had brought nearly a suitcase of them with her from New York and had been merrily sharing them out.
They were possibly Anya’s