Whatever Olivia was offering was becoming increasingly tempting.
Livia.
He was about to get up to walk off but he felt the calm of Alina beside him, laughing at a joke the speaker made. Then he found out that it wasn’t his life being described, because the speaker’s mother had got better at times and when she’d got worse, carers had stepped in.
He glanced at Olivia and didn’t even correct her name to himself as she gave him a bored eye-roll. Demyan didn’t give one back; instead, he listened.
He was truly shaken to his core.
‘Her speech...’ Demyan said to Alina as the applause started, then halted. He wasn’t going to discuss this with his PA, he didn’t need to explain things to Alina.
‘Good luck,’ Alina said, as Demyan got up to speak.
She watched intently. It was bliss to be able to examine him from a distance.
She watched as he went for his jacket and then changed his mind.
Demyan thanked everyone, very nicely.
The little barb about Nadia remained on the notes in his pocket and instead he spoke about how he rarely attended fundraisers, yet this was a worthy one and this charity he would do all he could to support.
‘We hope that means Demyan will be back next year,’ the MC said as Demyan returned to his seat, and as he caught Alina’s eye, he saw her biting down on her lip, because she knew he was leaving Australia.
‘Come.’
Alina didn’t want to dance, or rather she did but the conflicting messages from Demyan were messing with her head.
He hadn’t meant to dance either. Livia was making fervent glassy eyes and usually that would be the preferred option but, right now, he chose to inhale summer and he led Alina to the floor.
‘Making promises you can’t keep,’ she said.
‘I keep all my promises,’ Demyan said. ‘There is internet banking, Alina. I will give good donations’
‘You know full well that they want more than your money.’
Demyan knew that, he was supposed to be closing things down, unjoining the dots, not putting his hand up.
‘Are you still cross?’ Demyan asked, trying to change the subject.
‘About being dropped off at the servants’ entrance?’ She stared right back at him. ‘It’s a bit Upstairs, Downstairs,’ she said, referring to a television drama set in Edwardian London.
He just frowned.
‘Yes, Mrs Bridges,’ Alina said to his frown.
‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘You’d laugh if you did.’
Alina wasn’t laughing as he pulled her in closer.
‘Relax,’ Demyan said.
But she was scared to, for if she did, for even a second, her hands might reveal that they wanted him closer, or her face might lift to his, so instead she danced rigidly in his arms.