The Mistress(63)

It was all over the news by that afternoon, and Natasha saw it too on TV on the boat. It was totally strange. She wondered if that was the tender she heard leaving the night before. Or if someone had warned him. But at least the Lucas had their paintings back. She was happy for them, and wondered why Vladimir had returned them. She had no idea what had changed his mind. Or had he intended to return them all along?

Vladimir made love to her that afternoon, and then told her they were going out to dinner at eight o’clock. He didn’t tell her where and said it was a surprise. She put on a new dress that he had bought her at Dior in January—and she hadn’t worn it yet since it had arrived only a few weeks before. She looked exquisite as she stepped into the tender, and he smiled at her and told her she had never looked more beautiful and he loved the dress.

He got out of the tender first and stood watching her as they handed her out of the boat, and she put on her shoes on the quai. The Rolls was waiting for them, and as they walked toward it, he stopped and looked down at her with an expression she’d never seen before. His eyes were like ice, but his face was a mask of regret.

“It’s over, Natasha. I know what you saw. I don’t know if you told that woman, but I can’t take the chance. I’m not going to prison for you, or anyone. He should have sold me the painting—it would have been simpler for everyone. But I can’t trust you anymore. I have the feeling that you said something, but it’s just a guess. I’ll never know for sure. You have a month in the apartment in Paris. I’ll send your clothes from the boat there.” She was staring at him in disbelief as he said it. It was over, just like that, after eight years, without a look back. “You can have all your clothes and jewelry. You’ll get a good price for them if you sell them. And you can have whatever is in your bank account. Be out of the apartment by the end of July. I’m going to sell it. You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. You’ll be fine.” And then he added softly, “I’m going to miss you. The plane is waiting for you at the airport.” And with that he walked back to the tender with his head down, as she stood watching him go. She wanted to run after him, to stop him, and tell him she loved him, but she didn’t know if she did anymore. She couldn’t respect him after what he’d done.

He had saved her before, and now he had thrown her away, to survive on her own. Without even knowing for certain if she’d betrayed him, he was severing all ties with her to protect himself. He was taking no risks. She wasn’t worth it to him. She watched the tender pull away from the dock and go back to the boat with him on it. He never looked back at her. And she didn’t make a sound. She got into the Rolls with tears running down her cheeks and sat staring out the window as they drove to the airport. She was alone in the world, with no one to protect her or take care of her, for the first time in years, and as terrifying as it was, she knew he was right. She would be fine.

And as Vladimir stood on the deck, thinking about her, he had no regrets. He couldn’t risk everything he’d built for a woman, or for anyone. He still wondered if she had some kind of tie to Theo Luca, or if she had betrayed him to the police. He’d never know now. It didn’t matter. The problem was solved. He had taught Luca a lesson. And he would miss Natasha. But not for long. And by the time he went to his cabin after dinner, her belongings had been packed, and all signs of her were gone.





Chapter 13


Natasha wondered, as Vladimir’s plane flew her to Paris, if the crew onboard knew that they were serving her for the last time. Had someone told them? Had they been warned? Did they know why she was going? She had on a dress to wear out to dinner when he told her, and she looked like she was going to a party as they landed at Le Bourget airport in Paris. She thanked them, although she hadn’t said a word on the flight, and had sat staring out the window, wondering what would happen now, how she would manage, where she would go. She didn’t know what she had in her bank account or how long it would last. She had to look into all of it, and she would have to get a job. She hadn’t had one since the last factory she worked in, and she knew she wouldn’t go back to Russia. Maybe she could find something at a gallery in Paris. And her heart snagged for a minute when she walked into the apartment on Avenue Montaigne. She had loved putting it together for them nine months before. She had chosen each item and fabric so carefully to make it feel like a home to both of them, and it had. But no more. All she could allow herself to think of now was what she was taking and what she was leaving. Vladimir had been very clear. Only her clothes and her jewelry belonged to her, and none of the art. Except Theo Luca’s portrait of her, which Theo had given her as a gift. Vladimir had never given her art, since he considered it an investment. And she wouldn’t have dreamed of taking anything he didn’t want her to. She knew she was fortunate that he had left her what he had.

She never went to bed that night. She kept walking around trying to absorb what had happened. He had said he could no longer trust her after betraying him, if she had, since he said he wasn’t sure. But she could never have trusted him again either, once she discovered he was a thief and had stolen a hundred million dollars’ worth of art. She wondered what he had been planning to do with it before he changed his mind and returned it. She would never know now. All she did know for certain was that he had had it stolen and concealed it on the boat. It was shocking and a revelation of who he was, in a way she had never understood before.