Free Loving by Danielle Steel

like going to someone's house in the country, or like visiting a favorite uncle in his lair. Everything smelled of tobacco and cologne and fine leather. She liked the feel of his things, their texture, and their smell.
    Bettina looked around her with a feeling of homecoming as they walked into the sunny living room and he checked back over his shoulder. She looked better again, and for a moment the look of terror seemed to have fled. "It's nice to be back here, Ivo. I always forget how pretty it is."
    "That's because you don't come here often enough."
    "That's only because you don't ask me." She was teasing now, and happy, as she plunked herself down on the couch.
    "If that's all that keeps you away from here, I will ask! And often!" He smiled and tried not to glance at the mountain of mail. "Oh, God, will you look at that, Bettina...."
    "I was trying not to. It reminds me of my father's after he'd been away for a few days."
    "And this is nothing. I'm sure it's worse at the office." He ran a hand across his eyes and then walked into the kitchen. Mathilde seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. He had expected her to be waiting.
    "Where's Mattie?" Bettina reflected his thought. She had called her that since she was a very small child.
    "I don't know. Can I offer you a sandwich? I'm starved."
    She looked at him sheepishly. "So am I. I was so nervous during the bidding, and now suddenly I'm ravenous." And then she remembered. "Speaking of which, Ivo ... what about that desk?" She looked at him pointedly, but there was something far softer in her eyes.
    "What desk?" He looked nonchalant as he headed for the kitchen. "I hope there's at least something to eat."
    "Knowing Mattie, enough for an army. But you didn't answer my question, Ivo. What about the desk?"
    "What about it? It's yours."
    "No, it was Daddy's. Now it's yours. Why don't you keep it? He'd like you to have it, you know." She looked at him gently once they arrived in the kitchen, and he reached into the fridge and turned his back.
    "Never mind that, you can write your play on that desk. Let's not discuss it." It was still too soon to talk to her about what he had in mind.
    She sighed. They would have to discuss it another time. "Why don't you let me make the lunch?"
    He couldn't resist stretching out a hand to rumple her hair. His voice was hoarse but gentle when he spoke again. "You look very pretty today, little one ... in your black suit."
    She said nothing for a long moment, and then she walked past him, preparing to make lunch. His eyes never left her, and when her back was turned, he finally asked. "What is it that you're not telling me, Bettina? I get the feeling there's something you have on your mind." He felt stupid once he had said it. Every stick of furniture her father had owned was being sold at auction, it was natural that she should be disturbed. Yet he had the feeling that there was more than that. He had seen something even more painful in her eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
    "I've sold the apartment."
    "What? Already?" Bettina nodded mutely. "And when does the new owner take possession?"
    Bettina looked away and tried to catch her breath. "Tomorrow, I said I'd be out by tomorrow afternoon. As a matter fact it's in the contract."
    "And who was the fool who let you do that?" Ivo looked at her ominously and then held out his arms. "Never mind who, I can guess. It was your father's idiot lawyer. Oh, Christ." And then all she knew was that he was holding her and it didn't quite feel as though the world had come to an end. "Oh, baby ... poor baby ... all the furniture and now the whole place. Oh, God, it must feel awful." He held her and swayed softly, and in his arms she felt suddenly safe.
    "It does, Ivo ... it does ... I feel..." And then the tears suddenly crowded into her eyes. "I feel as though ... they're taking away ... everything ... as though there's ... nothing left. Just me, alone in the apartment ... it's already over ...