Page 56 of Staking His Claim
“There’s no television.” Ella was surprised by the absence of electronics.
“Oh, it’s here—you just can’t see it.”
Yevgeny walked to the sitting area and picked up a sleek object that, had Ella given it a second glance, she would’ve assumed to be a modern artifact. He pointed it at the glass wall in front of the sofas. With a soft click a narrow panel alongside the window slid open. A second click and the largest, slimmest wide-screen television Ella had ever seen rose out of the floor.
The mind boggled. “Very James Bond.”
Amusement flashed in Yevgeny’s eyes. “The theater sound system has been built into the walls and ceilings.” He moved a finger and the television came on. “There are blinds that roll down to block out the light. Then this becomes a home cinema. The security system is also wired in.”
The picture on the television changed and the screen split into a grid of images. As her eyes flicked from one image to the next, Ella could see the Porsche parked underground, the entrance to the private elevator where they’d been minutes before, the concierge desk in the lobby as well as images of rooms she had not yet seen. A huge bedroom with a scarlet bed clearly designed to reflect the passion of the occupant, caused her to glance away.
“There must be cameras everywhere in this apartment. Don’t you ever feel...watched?”
“There are no cameras in the guest washroom.”
Ella shot him a wary look to see if he was joking. His face appeared to be perfectly straight. With an edge she said, “How very fortunate for your female...guests.”
Yevgeny gave her a lazy smile. “All my guests deserve a modicum of privacy.”
This...this was a playboy’s pad, jam-packed with boy-toys. Ella searched the screen. “What about the guest bedroom? Any cameras in there?”
“There is no guest bedroom—only the master bedroom and bathroom—and a study. I’ll show you around if you like.”
“The ultimate bachelor’s dream,” she said, not ready to acknowledge his offer to show her his bedroom. Although her heart had picked up at the thought of standing with Yevgeny in the same space as that wildly passionate scarlet bed....
Her eyes roamed the living area, seeking a distraction.
Minimalist. Glossy hard surfaces. Hardly the kind of place that a child could visit. It belonged on the pages of interior-design magazines and was far removed from the house Ella had visited with Yevgeny on Sunday.
That place—while big—was meant for a family.
“I see why you wanted to go house hunting,” she said.
A pang of guilt stabbed her. Ella knew she was procrastinating. It was time to talk to Yevgeny about Holly’s future.
The bubble of hope he’d been fantasizing about was about to burst. And it was an unrealistic fantasy— Ella had only to look at the kind of place he lived in to know that his lifestyle was totally unsuited to a child. Buying that dream house wasn’t going to change who Yevgeny was.
Even though she’d discovered he was capable of patience and enormous devotion toward Holly, it was not enough.
He could not provide the family Holly needed.
But, Ella told herself, that didn’t mean he could have no relationship with Holly. An open adoption allowed that. They would both be able to be part of Holly’s life.
Holly would have it all. A wonderful family and plenty of support from both sides of her biological family. They were all giving Holly the best chance of success in the circumstances.
Yevgeny had opened a panel in the end wall to reveal a bar complete with a fridge below the counter. “Would you like a glass of Merlot? Or I can offer Sauvignon Blanc—or what about a flute of chilled Bollinger?”
About to ask for a glass of mineral water, Ella changed her mind. What the hell, a woman didn’t have the chance to drink Bollinger in this kind of place too often in her life. And the effervescence of champagne might clear the sadness that was settling around her like smog at the end of a winter’s workday.
With a determined smile, she said, “Bollinger, please.”
“Have a seat.”
Yevgeny turned back to the bar fridge and extracted a frosted jeroboam. A moment later he popped the cork. Perched on a sofa, Ella listened to the sound of the champagne being poured into two tall flutes and tried to tell herself that everything was working out for the best.
Crossing to where she sat, he handed her a glass, then settled down beside her.
Ella felt her pulse pick up. Partly due to anxiety, she knew, because of the discussion to come about Holly’s new family. But there was more to it. Sadness—obviously—because the time with Holly was drawing to an end. And beneath that was another layer: the unsettling edginess that Yevgeny always aroused in her.