Free If I Had You by Heather Hiestand Page B

she didn’t enjoy very much.
    â€œIf I had a living daughter, I would treat her like a princess, not set her loose on London in clothing like that,” Mr. Grinberg said softly. “Why are you so alone?”
    â€œI’m making my way,” she replied. “But I’ve only just come here.”
    â€œI hope to see you transformed when you retrieve the brooch,” he said.
    â€œI hope to be transformed.” They nodded at each other.
    In a crack between objects in the crowded window display, she saw a taxicab pull up next to Ivan. “That’s me. Thank you, Mr. Grinberg.”
    â€œYou are welcome. I will see you back soon.”
    â€œHopefully in about three weeks,” she said. “After the command performance.”
    â€œFor Ovolensky?”
    â€œYes.”
    He clucked his teeth. “A very bad man, that Ovolensky. A cousin of young Ivan’s, did you know? But he is light. Ovolensky is dark.”
    Alecia nodded as if she understood, but she knew nothing of the Russian diplomat. She went out the front door. Seagulls were circling overhead, cawing, a reminder of the river nearby.
    Ivan held the door of the cab for her, like an experienced doorman, then climbed in himself. The Grand Russe had a black-skinned man from America as the doorman. He was much nicer than Ivan, always smiling and friendly. But he’d never tried to kiss her. Her shoulder touched Ivan’s arm. She felt feminine and petite next to his large, masculine form, and longed for him to put his arm around her, though she knew he wouldn’t. In a moment, the cab started down the road.
    â€œAre you always going to be a secretary?” he asked abruptly, as if they’d already been having a conversation.
    She couldn’t decipher the reason for his question, so could only answer with the truth. “I don’t know. I’ve only been one for two weeks, but it is better than nursing.”
    â€œYou don’t want to live with your grandfather?”
    He shifted, his arm rubbing against hers. She could smell tea on him, as if he’d rubbed leaves between his fingers. Also dust, as if the suit he wore did not leave his wardrobe often. She wondered if he would spark electricity with her again. Would the flirtatious Ivan return, or was he too intent on the secret of the brooch to pay attention to her? “Part of living with him involved secretarial work. I suppose I was his secretary. It’s how I learned to use a typewriter. I typed up his sermons, handled his correspondence.”
    Ivan continued to stare straight ahead. “Is he well-known?”
    Alecia glanced out the window, trying to soak in London, though this poorer part didn’t offer much of a view. Just soot-stained buildings and rain-soaked pavement and tired people in dark coats. Still, she wanted to see as many ladies as possible, so she would know what to buy when she had money for clothes. She suspected Sybil’s taste was far too theatrical for the average person. “Well respected. Very conservative views.”
    â€œThat explains your dresses,” Ivan said.
    â€œI haven’t had time to do any London shopping,” she admitted. “I’ve worked every day.”
    â€œYou should have days off.” He finally looked at her, a bit sullen-looking due to that full lower lip. But strength was evident too, in the strong jaw.
    She looked away from him. “I want to go to C&A, the department store. But Sybil is very demanding, and I don’t like to put on airs, being so new, demanding a full afternoon off or such.”
    â€œSo you work seven days a week?”
    â€œBecause of my grandfather, they assume I want Sunday morning off to attend services. I have Saturday morning too. They are always hungover.”
    â€œYou don’t like these hours.”
    â€œMy grandfather expects me to write home every week with commentary on the sermon I heard on Sunday. So I haven’t a