Was it because he wanted to leave his room or for another reason?Wait, why weren’t they sharing a room?
“We should go now,” she said.
Mikhail opened the bedroom door before glancing at the woman.Her name still escaped him, but he might work it out if they encountered other people.Hell, where were they?He offered his arm, and bright approval lit her face.
Relief, yet tension, too.
Yes, something else lurked beneath the murky surface, and he’d understand it—once his brain unscrambled.
Mikhail let the woman guide him, interpreting each subtle move of her body, his instincts helping him.He inhaled but angled his head away, ostensibly to scan his surroundings.He searched for anything that might scream familiar.Sights, smells, or sounds.
Disappointment struck him when they reached a lounge.Still nothing recognizable.Glasses clinked and the low hum of music and chatter filtered to him when they paused in the doorway.The conversation stopped, and the group of mainly women stared at them.Mikhail offered a polite nod before surveying the room.
Everywhere, in every direction, soft fabrics and polished surfaces screamed wealth.Statues stood tucked in alcoves, and his shoes sank into the thick woven carpet with each step.Simple and elegant and beyond the means of most people.Mikhail instinctively understood this.
Once they entered the lounge, the woman—her name still a mystery because it hadn’t leaped magically into his memory—glided away to ring a bell.Almost instantly, a servant arrived, pushing a trolley.
“Will you take your tea by the window or the conversation pit, Miss Bridget?”the woman asked.She was neat in her black uniform, with her soft brown hair swept into a knot at the back of her neck.She hovered while waiting for Bridget to decide.
Bridget.
The name wasn’t familiar, nor was the stonking big engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand.Surely, he’d recall the ring since he’d given it to her.Not even the slightest memory of a kiss or an embrace came to him.He was a man.He liked sex; if he were involved with a woman, he’d want to touch and kiss her.She’d smell like him.If he cared for her, she’d imprint on his soul.They wouldn’t resemble strangers.His gaze darted to the rings on her right hand and lingered while his mind chased in circles.
A new arrival claimed his attention.A man who was shorter than him.He had piercing brown eyes and brown hair so dark it would appear black in some lights.The man bore a sullen expression, bringing instant wariness to Mikhail.Even the strange tiger roaming his mind bristled, which reinforced the emotion writhing inside Mikhail.Take care.
While the man wasn’t familiar to him, Bridget’s cheeks lost color upon seeing him.
“Pavel,” she said, her tone neutral.“Papa didn’t mention you were visiting.”
Mikhail remained silent, watching their interaction.
“I wanted to say hello to you and your husband,” Pavel said smoothly, yet icy disdain radiated from him in contradiction to his words.
Bridget’s hands trembled before she clasped them together.Pavel spotted her distress, and his mouth curved upward.
Mikhail crossed the room to join Bridget.“Since more people are arriving, we’ll take our tea over there,” he said, gesturing at a grouping of chairs and a large coffee table.
“Yes, sir.”The servant wheeled the trolley over to the area.
If Mikhail wasn’t mistaken, the servant disliked being in the same room as this Pavel.A man to watch, then.He hated men who preyed on women, using them while considering them far beneath him.Mikhail paused, not knowing where his thoughts came from but instinctively accepting them as truth and part of his fabric.
Another two men entered the room, one much older and stooped, fatigue weighing down his shoulders.Mikhail inhaled to catch his scent and frowned.This one smelled familiar—that biting aroma of sickness.His face was almost gray as if he had overdone things today.
His gaze swept the room, alert and watchful despite his physical fragility.“Ah, my daughter and my son-in-law.My son, too, joining me for afternoon tea.How lovely.”His gaze rested on his son for the longest time.
Mikhail sensed the underlying current.All was not well between father and son, but they played games and pretended the opposite.
They sat around the conversation area, and Bridget picked up the teapot.She poured tea for her father and brother before glancing at him.“Darling, did you want tea, or should I ask the kitchen for a cold drink?”
“Tea will be fine.”
She bit her lip, which seemed a habit around him, and gave a jerky nod.Her hand trembled as she poured milk into a cup and added tea.She handed him the cup and poured another for herself, adding a slice of lemon instead of milk.
“Papa, would you like something to eat?”
“One ham sandwich,” her father said, making her smile with approval.
“You can get me sandwiches and pie,” her brother ordered.
