Chapter 4
Jeremy was in our flat, his Russian text opened before him. He seemed troubled.
“Do svidaniya, James.”
“Something bothering you, ochi chyornye?” I bent to kiss him, not bothering to tell him that instead of a greeting, he’d just said he’d see me later. He caressed my cheek absently, and I leaned into his touch.
“Have you got a gift for Pamela?”
“Of course. It’s all wrapped and ready for you to take to her.” He licked his lips, glanced at me, and looked away. A fine tension was in his shoulders. “I had a phone call from my father while you were out.”
“Indeed?” I straightened and hung my suit jacket up in the cupboard.
In the months we’d been together I’d learned, mostly through observation, that more than anything, Jeremy craved his father’s approval, which he seldom, if ev
