The Mistress(25)

“No, my father’s. My mother sold it to the woman’s boyfriend. I dropped it off. He wasn’t there, so we had a chance to talk for a while and tour the boat.”

“I can’t even imagine the price you got for it. I can’t believe your mother sold one. He must have paid a fortune.”

“He did,” Theo confirmed.

“Well, I don’t care if you see her again or not. You have to finish the piece—it’s a major tour de force. I really think it’s your best work yet. Go on suffering with it, it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” Theo looked warmly at his friend.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Theo shook his head. “I think I’ll get back to work. You’ve encouraged me not to give up.”

Marc left a little while later, and came back in half an hour with some bread and cheese and a couple of peaches and an apple, so he’d have something to eat. It was the kind of friend that Marc was, and they were always critical of each other’s work, and painfully honest, so for him to say it was the best piece Theo had ever done meant a lot. Theo went back to work on the portrait, and painted straight through the night. He fell asleep as the sun came up, lying on the floor of his studio, gazing up at what he’d done. He was smiling. He had finally gotten the eyes right, and she was smiling down at him from the portrait. It was the face he remembered so perfectly, smiling at him, as the tender pulled away.

—

The mistral, a fierce northerly Mediterranean wind that usually blew for three days, hit Princess Marina as they came down the coast of Corsica and went through the straits of Bonifacio. And even the huge boat was pitching and rolling in the heavy seas. Natasha always said she liked it when the sea was rough, and felt like a baby being rocked in a cradle when she woke to the rocking, although many of the crew members were sick. It calmed when they got close to Porto Cervo and threw anchor as near the port as they dared, but Natasha knew from experience it would blow for several days, which didn’t bother her. She still wanted to ride into port in the tender and have a look around. She liked shopping there, there were several art galleries, some jewelers, all the important Italian designer brands, and a furrier where she had found coats she liked before.

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Vladimir asked her when she was getting ready. The sea was rough, the tender would bounce all over on the short trip into port, and she’d get soaked. She was fearless about bad weather and heavy seas, and she knew she was in no danger in their tender and didn’t care if she got wet. The deckhands always admired her for what a good sailor she was.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured Vladimir, and there were three of their sailors in the boat when she got in. Vladimir didn’t go with her. He had work to do. And he didn’t enjoy shopping as much as she did, except for major purchases like jewelry or haute couture, but she could manage the ordinary shops alone. He didn’t need to be with her to buy a new pair of sandals, or a handbag at Prada, and she had a credit card that was designated to her on one of his accounts. He never cared how much she spent, and she was reasonable when she shopped on her own. Vladimir spent far more money on her than she ever did on herself.

The tender bobbed around like a cork in the water as Natasha hopped out onto the quai, and a crew member followed her in case she needed help carrying shopping bags on the way back. She made her way through several stores and was trying on a bright pink fur coat at the furrier where she’d been before, when the first officer from the boat appeared with three of their security guards at his side.

“Mr. Stanislas would like you back on the boat,” the first officer said seriously, and Natasha looked surprised.

“Now? Is something wrong? Is he ill? I haven’t finished shopping yet.” And she didn’t want to go back. She was having fun. She had nothing to do on the boat, and they couldn’t go out swimming in the high winds and rough seas.

“He appears to be fine,” the officer said stiffly. He had had his orders directly from Vladimir, and didn’t want to have to explain to him that Natasha had refused to come back, but she didn’t see why she had to rush. They weren’t going anywhere in the mistral.

“Tell him I’ll be back in an hour,” she said with a smile. She was still wearing the pink fur coat, and wanted to take a serious look at it again.

“I believe Mr. Stanislas wants you to come back now,” he said with emphasis and worried eyes.

“I won’t be long.” She smiled at him and took another look at herself with the coat. She was concerned it was too bright and Vladimir might not like it, but it was fun and she could see herself wearing it with jeans or over a black dress. She took it off and tried another more traditional one while he conferred with the three bodyguards outside. She could see that they were radioing the boat. And a moment later, he walked into the shop again, carrying his cellphone, and told her Mr. Stanislas was on the phone. She took it from him with a smile, and joked with Vladimir when she heard him at the other end.

“I promise I won’t spend all your money. I just want a little longer to look around. The shops are so nice here, better than St. Tropez.”

“Get back here now. When I give you an order, you are to obey my commands.” He had never spoken to her that way before, and she was stunned.

“What’s happening? Why are you upset?”