Free One Stolen Kiss by Lauren Boutain

my kitchen, bastard!” And there was the unmistakeable clattering of wooden spoon against saucepan.
    “ By the sound of it, dinner is not ready,” Adrik concluded. “Prepare yourself to meet my… my… well, I’m not sure exactly what it is they do, specifically. Elsie and Lucas. I think they just moved in with me and take my money.”
    “ Have they lived with you for long?” Christie asked, noting the loudhailer standing on the Georgian mahogany sideboard in the hallway.
    “ The last two years. I’m afraid it’s them that we will have the most trouble convincing of our partnership. They are very – protective, let’s say. Or maybe I mean, judgemental. Somewhere between the two.”
    But before Christie had time to ‘prepare’ as Adrik suggested, the view along the hallway was eclipsed by a curvaceous figure in a royal blue tunic and white trousers.
    “What time do you call this?” the woman shouted in a sing-song manner, giving Christie an odd sense of déjà vu . “And what have you got there? A new bodyguard, is it?”
    “ Elsie, this is Christie Harding,” said Adrik. “My future wife.”
    “ Ah, from the newspapers today?” Elsie strutted towards them as if she owned the place, looking them both up and down as Christie stiffened, the entire premise of the situation alien to her. “I thought that was another lie. Take your hat off, Miss Harding – let’s have a look at you, then.”
    Christie slowly pulled off the baseball cap, and straightened her hair self-consciously.
    “So it is you.” Elsie folded her arms and nodded. “I thought it was a nice photo.”
    “ Me too,” Adrik agreed, putting his arm around Christie’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. Christie’s knees weakened, not helped by the fact that she hadn’t quite recovered her land-legs yet since the flight. “I think we’re just going to grab something to eat and go to bed. It’s been a long day, and the plane back was kind of choppy.”
    Bed! Christie felt his arm around her tighten. Perhaps he was warning her not to run away this time…
    Elsie jutted her chin and beckoned.
    “He is cooking tonight. Mr Delia Smith.” She strolled ahead of them, waving into various rooms. “Do not go in this drawing-room, I am still dusting and vacuuming. And this one, I think there is a squirrel in the wall, the man is coming tomorrow. You can eat in the dining room, I have polished already in there. Or there is the snug, or the den, but I am sure I can smell something in both of them.”
    “ I can smell something,” Adrik muttered. “A staff party while I was away.”
    “ What?” Christie was shocked.
    “ What was it this time, pot luck, or bring your own bottle?” Adrik asked Elsie.
    “ Bring your own pot.” Elsie roared with laughter. “Dinner is about ready. Go and sit down. I’ll bring you something to drink. What do you like, Miss Harding? Coffee, tea? Champagne? Sambuca? Jägerbomb? I can’t tell by looking at you. Some girls, you know they only drink red wine. Others, you say to yourself, hmmm, I don’t know, maybe Perrier water, ice and lemon? And then they ask you for a pint of Guinness.”
    “ Welcome to London.” Adrik grinned at Christie wryly.
    “ Er – tea, please…” Something else was already distracting her. Elsie acknowledged and disappeared down some stairs to the lower ground floor.
    As Christie tagged along behind Adrik, not really registering the layout of the enormous townhouse, what she was really noticing were the vast canvases punctuating the smooth-painted walls. Most were unframed, in bold colours, abstract, post-impressionist, and expressionist art. Not modern and interesting wastes of time and money used to jazz up some interior design – they were all in their own way beautiful pieces of work by genuinely talented artists, old and new. Completely uncharacteristic of the reclusive, quietly dignified persona that Adrik Maksimov seemed to exude in the public eye.
    “Your taste is