‘Actually, yes.’
‘Gosh, Demyan, I never knew you were so into charity.’ She gave him a wide eyed, incredulous smile that wasn’t returned. ‘Well, thanks for the donation. I didn’t realise all the suffering you had to go through...’ Her smile turned to a frown. ‘What do you mean by “nice”?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Try me,’ Alina said. ‘Maybe I want what you want.’
‘Then stop talking and get on your knees.’ Demyan said.
He watched as her lips pressed together and saw the tears glitter in her eyes but they were angry ones.
‘It really is that straightforward to me,’ Demyan said. ‘It is you who makes things complicated.’
‘I don’t believe you...’
‘Still talking, Alina?’ His hand reached for hers, guiding it to his zipper, but she pulled it away. ‘You should be on your knees by now.’
‘Screw you.’ She turned for the door. ‘Because it won’t be the other way round.’
She wouldn’t be back on Monday. Demyan knew that and he groaned in relief when she walked out.
He went for his phone and punched in Roman’s number, fighting to stay calm as he was sent straight to voice mail again.
‘Roman.’ Demyan was sick of hearing his son’s voicemail message. ‘I am not sure why we’re not talking but I am here if you change your mind. Call me any time.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Please.’
It was, Demyan knew, time to call in the big guns.
‘Mikael.’ Demyan spoke to another voice mail. ‘Call me.’
He sat, fingers drumming, drinking cognac, waiting for the bastard to call. Demyan and Mikael went way back but, despite that, Demyan had navigated his divorce without calling on his friend. He did not need to be told his rights with his son, or how little he could get away with paying.
‘What took you so long?’ Mikael called Demyan straight back. He had heard the word on the streets and had long been expecting Demyan to ring. Mikael had arguably fewer scruples than Demyan and was known for going for the jugular.
‘Can we meet?
They met in a bar, but the Thank-God-It’s-Friday crowd was gathering and Demyan asked to use the empty restaurant upstairs.
‘What does Roman want to do?’ Mikael asked, when Demyan told him that the rumours were true and Nadia and Roman would soon be moving to Russia.
‘I don’t know what he wants.’ Demyan said. ‘We are not talking and I don’t know why.’
‘He’s fourteen,’ Mikael pointed out, ‘that’s a good enough reason perhaps?’
‘No.’ Demyan shook his head. His relationship with his son had always been good till now. ‘It is since Nadia announced she was marrying and decided to move back to Russia.’
‘So why are you letting her?’ Mikael asked the question that everyone wanted to. ‘Why are you not fighting her?’
‘She says Roman might not be mine.’