Instead of refusing the delicacies that were being offered, as she usually did, Anya took a serviette and a small beignet and bit into the warm, sweet dough.
There were a few raised eyebrows when she took another and then another. The lemon in her water was her usual fuel for this type of thing.
But sex had made her hungry, or was it that Roman was back?
Yes, the people around could see the changes. Not just that she ate but that her cheeks were pink and her green eyes glittered.
After all these years, her body felt alive again and yet he had killed her soul.
The next morning as the famed ballet troupe headed for a snatched week at home or straight on to Paris before rehearsals began in earnest, Anya fought with herself not to stop the car and get out.
Roman was in London.
And as she sat on the plane and strapped on her seat belt she wanted to disembark. It felt wrong to be leaving when he was here.
She turned away from the chatter of colleagues and stared out of the window and thought of Roman and Daniil catching up after all these years, and then she thought of what had taken place last night.
Then, despite harsh words to Roman and a brutal lecture to herself, insisting that she was through with him, she consoled herself with one thought.
She would see him at the christening, she was sure.
It wasn’t over.
It never had been.
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