The Last Kolovsky Playboy

The sun beat on his shoulders—his skin was brown, his body lean and toned, and he appeared a picture of health above the water. But the scars stung beneath as he stretched his limits and made himself run in the water.

Now it hurt.

It hurt like hell, but he pushed through it.

Could his brother in Australia feel this? Aleksi thought as he sliced the water and forced himself on. Was Iosef, working in an Emergency ward in Australia, suddenly sweating and gripped by pain as he went about his day?

Aleksi doubted it.

Oh, he had no animosity towards Iosef—he admired that he had broken away from the company and gone on to study medicine. Still they chatted, and met regularly. Aleksi liked him, in fact. But there was no telepathic bond, no sharing of minds, no sixth sense…

Where had the twin bond been when his father had beaten him to a pulp when he was only seven years old?

Where had the sixth sense been when a week later his brother had been allowed in to see him?

‘Some fall…’ Iosef had said, in Russian of course—because even in Australia the Kolovskys had spoken in Russian.

‘Dad is getting you a new bike.’ Iosef had come to sit on the bed, laughing and chatting, but as the mattress had indented a white bolt of pain had shot through Aleksi and he had gone to cry out. Then he had seen the warning in his mother’s eyes.

‘Good,’ he had said instead.

There was no special bond Aleksi realised.

You did not ache, you did not bleed just because your brother did.

He ran faster.

Riminic, Riminic, Riminic.

Even the gulls taunted him with the name.

A brother whose existence he had denied.

A brother he had chosen to forget.

There was no end to his shame, and his leg wouldn’t let him outrun it.

Sprint over, he was spent, and glad to be exhausted. Maybe now he could get some rest.

The nurse had his pills waiting when he returned to the lavish chalet, but he refused them. He drank instead a cocktail of vitamins and fresh juice and headed for his bedroom.

‘I’m going to rest.’

‘Would you like me to come in?’ She smiled. ‘To check on you?’

He growled out a refusal of her kind offer—could he not just recover? Could he not have some peace?

He lay on the silk sheets, the fan cooling his warm skin, yet his blood felt frozen.

The pain did not scare him—it was the damage to his mind. He had passed every test, had convinced the doctors that he was fine—could at times almost convince himself that he was—but there was a blur of memories, conversations that he could not recall, images that he could not summon, knowledge that lay buried.

The phone buzzed.

He went to turn it off.

Tired, he needed to rest.

And then he saw her name.

Kate.

Aleksi hesitated before answering. Kate was one of the reasons he was in the West Indies recovering—he had grown accustomed to her by his bedside, looked forward rather too much to her visits in the hospital and started to rely on her just a little too heavily. And Aleksi had long since chosen to rely on no-one.

‘What?’ His voice was curt.

‘You said to tell you if…’

Her voice came to him over the phone from halfway around the world. He could hear that she was nervous and he didn’t blame her. Nina would go berserk if she found out that Kate was calling. Aleksi was not to be disturbed with mundane work matters—except Aleksi had told Kate that he wanted to be disturbed.

‘Tell me what, Kate?’ Aleksi said. He could picture her round, kind face, and was quite sure that she was blushing. Kate blushed a lot—she was a large girl, surrounded by whip-thin models. The House of Kolovsky was a bitchy place to work at the best of times, and at the worst of times it was a snake pit—right now it was the worst of times. ‘Remember, no matter what my mother says, your loyalty is to me—you are my PA.’

She had been his PA for over a year now. He had cajoled her into taking the position when yet another PA of his had been so stupid as to confuse sex with love. Safe in the knowledge that he would never cross the line with an overweight single mum, he had contacted her. Georgie was now nearly five years old and at school, and Kate was even bigger than before—no, there was absolutely no question of his fancying her.

‘Your brother Levander…’ Kate stammered. ‘You know he and Millie were looking to adopt an orphan…?’

‘And?’

‘They went to Russia last week; they met him—their new son…’

Aleksi closed his eyes; he had feared this day would come sooner than was convenient. Levander had run the House of Kolovsky head branch in Australia. He had been sensible, and on their father’s death a couple of years ago he had got out. Now he worked in London, taking over Aleksi’s old role, while Aleksi had taken over the running of Kolovsky—effectively a swap. Levander had only returned to Australia while Aleksi recuperated.

‘I’ve heard Nina talking; she is going to run it…’

‘Run what?’

‘House of Kolovsky.’ Kate gulped. ‘She has these ideas…’

‘Levander would never—’ Aleksi started, but then again Levander now would. Since he had met Millie, since they had had Sashar, his priorities had shifted. Money had never been Levander’s god. Raised in Detsky Dom, an orphanage in Russia, he had no real allegiance to the Kolovskys—Nina wasn’t his mother, and with Ivan dead Aleksi knew that Levander’s priorities were with his own family now—his new family, one that wanted to save a child from the hell Levander had endured.

‘She has told Levander not to tell you,’ Kate explained. ‘That no one is to disturb you with this—that you need this time to heal.’

‘The board will not pass it.’

‘Nina has new plans, ideas that will generate a lot of money…’

She had stopped stammering now. Despite her shyness at times, Kate was an articulate, intelligent woman, which was why he had bent over backwards to get her on staff. She was different from all the others. Her only interest at work was work—which she did very capably, so she could earn the money to single-handedly raise her daughter.

‘She will convince the board, and she has ideas that they like.’