at a health farm.’ Melanie giggled again. ‘Or having a few hundred units of line fillers and Botox squeezed into her face so she can stay gorgeous for him!’
‘I don’t think Iosef’s like that.’ The temptation to talk about him was too much, the need for insight, even if it was misguided, too much to pass up. ‘He’s nothing like the rest of the Kolovskys. He’s worked in Russia for the last few years and did a lot of voluntary work, too—with troubled kids. I really don’t think he’s that superficial—he just doesn’t seem into all that, if you ask me. I’m sure he wouldn’t give two hoots what a woman looked like! ’
‘Please!’ Melanie was really laughing now. ‘You know that’s utter bilge. Oh, we can all say the PC things, that looks don’t matter, etc., but I defy any woman to date a guy like Iosef Kolovsky and not be intimidated by all the supermodels that have come and gone. I mean, he’s beautiful to look at and everything, but give me George any day. Who needs that sort of pressure?’ Seeing Annie’s agonized expression, her voice trailed off. ‘Hey, are you OK, Annie? Did I say something wrong?’
‘No, it’s just this stupid shaving thing.’ Annie forced a smile but struggled to hold it. ‘It really hurts.’
‘You get used to it apparently.’ Melanie shrugged, picking up her bag and dousing herself with Annie’s scent before dashing off to spend the rest of the night with George. ‘Why don’t you just wait a couple of weeks and get them waxed?’
Because she didn’t have a couple of weeks—at any time Iosef could appear.
And often did.
He kept the most peculiar hours, almost constantly on call, not just for work but with his father’s death approaching, his mother, Nina, was constantly ringing, questioning Ivan’s treatments, his medications, and Annie understood if sometimes it wasn’t till after midnight that he appeared or on occasion had to go soon after getting there.
Melanie was right, Annie thought darkly as her phone bleeped loudly in her bag. When Iosef was coming round she would dash to the bathroom to brush her teeth then back to the bedroom to squirt on perfume. As much as she was loath to admit it—never, not once, had he made a negative comment on her appearance—the pressure was on. Over and over he told her she looked fantastic, felt fantastic, smelt fantastic, tasted fantastic—but Annie was finding that a pressure in itself!
What happened if he called round and she wasn’t looking, feeling, smelling and tasting fantastic? Her pink, flannelette, cheeky-monkey pajamas had been dumped in favor of a flimsy sarong, every pair of granny knickers she owned had been replaced by an overdraft-funded selection of lacy bras and panties, her skin was permanently defuzzed and moisturized, and that was before she squeezed in nails, hair and, oh, yes, thanks to some freaky, obsessive compulsive perfect housewife show she’d watched, her bed was now decked out in starched white linen, which meant constant trips to the laundry.
‘Hey!’ He gave a tired smile as he stood in her doorway. ‘Sorry it’s so late. I got caught up.’
‘No problem. Melanie was just here.’ She moved to let him in. ‘How’s your dad?’
‘Don’t ask!’ He didn’t say it nastily, more wearily, sitting on the sofa and running a tired hand over his face. ‘I’ve had one of those nights—you know...’
Only she didn’t know because he didn’t tell her, and she didn’t push because he looked awful—beautiful, but awful all at the same time. His exquisite features, more chiseled somehow, dark smudges under his eyes, as if he’d suddenly lost weight or just got over flu or something. Annie could actually feel the great weariness that emanated from him. He gave a tight smile as his phone started trilling and with a small eye roll he answered it.
‘Hi, Levander.’ That was the one in England, Annie registered, which meant he wouldn’t be talking long. But clearly a little thing like the cost of an international call to a mobile phone didn’t matter a hoot to the Kolovskys. Clearly, because forty minutes later, having left Iosef to it long ago, she was lying on top of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening without a clue as to what was being said as he spoke to his brother in Russian from the lounge.
Just what had he come here for? He didn’t want to talk to her. She wasn’t allowed to ask what was going on. Was