Chapter Fourteen: Addicted to Another

"Please, come in," Michael said, ushering Irina inside. "I'm so glad you came. I'm surprised you waited so long between visits."

"Well, Michael, you know how risky I find travel between this place and headquarters," Irina said regretfully, settling herself onto the living room couch. The room wasn't quite as cold and imposing as Sydney's new home, she noted, but it wasn't bad. "Though I do wish I could keep a closer eye on operations here."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Michael assured her, moving to sit in the armchair adjacent to her. "I've been working really hard, trying to make this base fully operational. It'll be wonderful when you can move headquarters here, I can't wait to see the kids again."

"They're wonderful, Michael," Irina told him warmly. Sure. Jack's flunking out of school, and Emily's thisclose to calling Sark "Daddy." Irina smiled wickedly at the thought. She did, of course, plan to tell Michael that Sydney was still alive, and vice versa. Just not before she could be sure the two of them wouldn't immediately reconcile. Bless Sydney and the glorious way she had managed to fuck up the children in his absence; that alone would probably be enough to prevent an immediate reunion. Of course, there were other ways to prevent such a reunion. For instance-- "How's Brooke doing?"

To her delight, Michael actually blushed. "She's doing fine. I was actually surprised to see you at the door, I'm expecting her any minute."

Irina glanced at her watch. "Dinner plans, I take it?"

"Yes," Michael said, looking a little embarrassed. "I hope you'll join us, Irina."

"Oh, I'd love to," Irina purred.

"Good," Michael said with a smile, rising from his chair. "What can I get you to drink while we wait?"

"Scotch, please, Michael," Irina returned his smile.

"So, it's been so long," Michael said, going about the business of pouring a drink for her, and one for himself. "Tell me about the kids, you must have so many stories. God, I miss them, Irina."

"I'm sure you do, darling," Irina said, offering him a sympathetic smile. "That's why I hesitate to tell you too much. I'm afraid doing so will only make it harder for you to be apart from them."

"Oh, I--" Michael began, but was cut off by the sound of the ringing doorbell.

"That'll be Brooke, I assume," Irina said, rising from her chair. "Why don't you let me let her in, darling, while you pour her a drink?" she suggested, collecting her own drink from him on her way by.

"Hello, Brooke," she greeted the girl, leading her into the entryway. As always, she looked stunning-- straight blonde hair curled prettily around her face, long black dress cut just a little too low in the chest and high in the leg. Brooke Banning's sexuality was by far her greatest asset, and she used it to full advantage.

"Irina." Brooke looked at once pleased to see her and suspicious. No doubt worrying about Irina's next move, waiting for the other shoe to drop. All of Irina's employees were at least a little frightened of her, and she couldn't say that the fact displeased her. "What a pleasant surprise. I assume you'll be joining Michael and me for dinner?"

"You assume correctly," Irina said, stopping the girl before she could move into the living room. "How are things going between the two of you?" she asked, voice low enough that Michael wouldn't be able to hear it in the next room.

"They're going well, I think," Brooke said with a shrug. "Slow," she added, rolling her eyes heavenward.

"That's okay, don't you dare push him too far, too fast," Irina instructed, eyes flashing. "I'll do my best to give him the extra push he needs, but you are to play it cool, do you understand?"

"I understand." For a moment, impatience flashed in Brooke's eyes, but the look quickly changed to one of wicked amusement. "You totally have him eating out of your hand now, you know that, don't you?"

"I thought I might," Irina smirked. "Come, now, darling. Say hello to Michael, then excuse yourself as quickly as you can. I have a bit of magic to work."

And, giggling like a couple of conspiring schoolgirls, they entered the living room.

"Hello, Michael." Irina approved of the way Brooked touched his shoulder lightly, leaned in to kiss his cheek. Flirtatious, without being pushy. Good.

She was less approving of the way Michael seemed to flinch away, just barely, at her touch. "Hello, Brooke," he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Michael, you're sweet," she purred, letting her hand linger on his shoulder for just a moment before removing it. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's no problem," Michael assured her. "Irina and I were just about to have a drink."

"Wonderful," Brooke said, flashing a smile that showed a row of perfect white teeth. "Do you mind if I freshen up?" she asked, cocking her head toward the hall that led to the bathroom.

"Of course not," Michael said. She offered him a tantalizing smile before starting down the hall.

Irina was at his side, a hand on his shoulder, before Michael had even turned from watching her go. "Michael, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft, concerned. "Why do you flinch away from her touch?"

Adorably, Michael flinched in response to the question. "Brooke has been very sweet, and helpful, and I enjoy spending time with her." He looked away, but not before Irina saw the pain in his green eyes. "But it just seems so soon."

Eight months. Your wife only waited six, Irina thought. But she wouldn't reveal that just yet. She could let Michael play the grieving widower for a bit longer. "I know how much you loved Sydney, Michael," she said, eyes shining with sympathy. "But no one would blame you for moving on, even if it was just for comfort, or to take your mind off of other things."

Michael winced. "I couldn't use Brooke like that."

"I'm sure she understands, darling." Actually, I know she does. "She's sophisticated enough to realize that every relationship doesn't have to be--"

"Thank you, Irina," Michael interjected, his voice a bit sharp.

Irina managed to look just the tiniest bit wounded. "I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds, Michael," she said, her voice soft. "I just hate to see you so unhappy."

"I'm unhappy because I lost my wife and haven't seen my children in a year," Michael said, the pain more visible than ever in his green eyes. "Brooke isn't going to change any of that."

"No," Irina allowed. "But she might help dull some of the pain." She heard Brooke's high heels clicking on the tiled hallway floor, and she gave Michael's shoulder one last squeeze before returning to the couch. "Just think about it."

"I will."

But the look on his face told Irina that it might take more than a pretty blonde and a few kind words to get him as addicted to another as Sydney had been to Sark.

Soon, she might have to try another tactic.