Submitting to the Billionaire: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 11

  “I don’t know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I guess I’m just confused about everything.”

  “Well, I’d be confused too if I ended up in the bed of one of the richest men in the world. I can’t believe you told me his name was Nikolai Something or other, when he is Nikolai Smirnov, a fully paid up member of the Russian billionaire club.”

  “So you know about him?”

  “Of course, I know about him. Everybody in my line knows about him. He dates fashion models and he’s broken a heart or two.”

  Instantly, there is an odd lurch in my stomach. I’m not model material. I’m average height and I’m not skinny.

  “He is a dish, isn’t he?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Mmm? Come on? He’s miles better looking than Nigel.”

  “You can’t compare them,” I say uncomfortably.

  “Hang on. I’m just going to butter this toast. Facetime me in two minutes. I want all the details.”

  “I can’t facetime you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure this phone has that function.”

  “You got a new phone? You didn’t have it when I saw you yesterday,” she asks surprised.

  “Nikolai broke my phone so got me a new one.”

  There is a couple of seconds of stunned silence. “He broke your phone? I’m getting a bad vibe here. Want to give me more details before I make them up in my head and totally freak out?”

  “When he came into the room last night, I was talking to Nigel. He got so mad he told Nigel to not contact me again while I was living in his house or he’d break every bone in his body. Then he threw my phone on the wall. He was like a beast, Rosa.”

  “Oh my. Where has this man been hiding all these years? I don’t think that is beastly at all. I think he was quite right to behave in that way. If I was him I would have done the same.”

  “What?”

  “Of course. As far as he is concerned Nigel has passed you over to him for a month in exchange for writing off a massive debt. Imagine if that debtor then tried to take back part of that one month. I’d go mad.”

  “But Nigel is devastated.”

  “Good. I would have loved to have seen his face while the Russian was tearing into him.”

  “Rosa,” I admonish.

  “Hang on, I’m just going to finish buttering this piece of toast.” I hear the sound of her knife scraping the toast. “Don’t Rosa me. Nigel deserved that. How dare he think that he can use you to pay off a debt?”

  “I told you I offered.”

  “And I told you, bullshit.”

  I refuse to engage and go silent.

  “I know you don’t want to believe me, but I don’t feel even a tiny bit sorry for Nigel. He’s so up his own ass. In fact, I’m glad he’s been forced to wake up to the smell of coffee and realize that someone else is drinking his stash. He thought he was so clever. He could have it all. Send you to pay his debt and still keep you keen on the phone. Well, he made a big fucking mistake this time.”

  There is nothing to say to that.

  “So, what kind of phone have you got now?”

  “It’s a Vertu.”

  “Really? What kind of Vertu is it?”

  “I don’t know.” I take the phone away from my ear and look at it before putting it back to my ear. “It’s quite sleek with a mother of pearl inlay and it comes with a matching white alligator skin clutch-style case.”

  She squeals.

  “What?”

  “That phone is worth nearly £18,000!”

  “What?”

  “Yes, that little stone select key is a Princess Cut diamond! And those face pieces, they’re all sapphires.”

  “Oh, my god!”

  “Sweet Jesus. This guy doesn’t mess about, does he?”

  “Why would he give me such an expensive phone?” I whisper.

  I hear her take a big chomp of her toast. “I have no idea, but you know what? I am liking this guy more and more. So, come on, tell me about the sex.”

  I have an image of him with his fingers inside me while my naked body writhes and gushes all over his antique table. I feel hot all over and something inside me tightens. Damn him. I can’t tell anyone about him. I’d be too embarrassed.

  “Listen. I’ve got to go down for breakfast, but I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Call me later. Star?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What shall I tell Cindy?”

  “I’ll call her later and tell her.”

  “Great. Have fun, babe.”

  “You too.”

  I hang up and go over to the armoire where I select a sleeveless blue dress. It is simple and sweet. I rummage around in the boxes at the bottom of the cupboard and find a pair of white ballet pumps. I run a silver comb through my hair, plait it into a long braid down my back, and go downstairs.

  The hallway is deserted so I walk to the room where I had been first taken to. It is empty too. As I stroll along the corridor towards the dining room, I pass a door that is open. It is a sunny room with a piano in it. Celine is sitting at a table with her laptop open.

  She looks up and grins. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She stands up. “Good. Mr. Smirnov has gone out riding, but he is expecting to have breakfast with you.”

  “Oh.”

  She glances at her watch. “He will be back in less than an hour. Would you like a quick tour of the house before you eat?”

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  She closes her laptop.

  “Celine, do you know if I can get my hands on a laptop?”

  She starts walking towards me. “Of course. What brand and model would you like?”

  “I’m used to a MacBook Air.”

  “What software would you like installed in it?”

  “Just Word.”

  She smiles. “I will have it delivered by lunchtime. In the meantime you are welcome to use mine.”

  I smile back at her. “It’s not urgent. I can wait until lunchtime.”

  Celine has taken the time to learn the history of the place and she is full of interesting bits of information.

  There are five-hundred meters of corridor in the house.

  The big ballroom was used as a hospital during the war.

  As we climb a set of wide, shallow stone stairs in the West wing, she tells me the children of the first Earl who built the house used to ride their ponies up those stairs into their playrooms on the first floor. Their playroom was the entire floor.

  She opens a door and we enter the long almost empty room. It has many mullioned windows, a bare wooden floor, and white walls. It is markedly different from the splendor and grandeur of the rest of the house. The thing that keeps it different is an old rocking horse. There is something indescribably sad about the space. I couldn’t even imagine that this place was once filled with children’s toys and their sound of their feet and laughter.

  “This is the only undecorated room in the house,” Celine says moving towards one of the windows and looking out of it.

  “Why is that?”

  She shrugs and turns to face me. “I was told Mr. Smirnov didn’t want it decorated. He wanted to keep it in its original form.”

  A shiver goes through me. “I see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  In minutes the other children start to file in followed by Igor. Some of them glance at us, but most of them keep their eyes firmly on the floor. No one says anything. A boy with brown hair and sad eyes comes to stand near my cot.

  “You will sleep over there,” Igor says, and points to another empty cot.

  Without a word of protest the boy moves to the other cot.

  In minutes, everybody, including Pavel and me, have changed into our pajamas and climbed into our beds. The lights go off and the door closes. In the sad silence, Igor’s footsteps echo as he walks down the corridor.

&nbs
p; I turn to face Pavel.

  His big bright eyes are gleaming in the faint moonlight coming in through the windows. I put my finger on my lips to indicate that he should remain silent. When I can hear that all the other children are sleeping soundly, I climb into bed with Pavel. I notice that he is sucking his thumb, something he has not done since he was a baby, but I say nothing. I cover him with both our blankets and stroke his hair until he falls asleep.

  I am too cold and anxious to fall asleep, but it turns out to be a good thing, because it means I get time to take action when I see the roving flashlights through the slit underneath the door. Slipping out of Pavel’s hug, I quickly climb into my own bed, and stay very still. The door opens.

  The flashlight comes toward our cots. Whoever they are, they seem to know exactly where we are. A flashlight shines onto my face. I shield my eyes and sit upright. I know there are more than one, but it is impossible to see their faces. My heart is pounding so fast I can hear it galloping like a horse.

  “Get up and follow us,” a voice says.

  The flashlight moves away from my face and shines on Pavel’s. He is fast asleep, his blond hair falling over his forehead.

  “No. Not him. He’s a baby,” I whisper urgently, and jump out of bed.

  The flashlight trains on my face again. I stare into it defiantly.

  “Come now,” the voice says.

  There are three of them. I follow them out of the chamber of sleeping children. We go down the stairs to one of the classrooms. Someone lights a storm lantern. In its light I start to make out their faces. They are all older than me. One of them is the sneering boy who passed us down the hallway.

  “So your parents were plotting against the state?” he says. He has a strange accent.

  “No, they weren’t. My parents are doctors,” I jab back angrily.

  “Were,” one of the boys sniggers.

  “They’re not dead.”

  “They’re dead, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  I decide not to antagonize them. I fix my attention on the boy who passed me. It looks like he is their leader. “What do you want?”

  “We wanted to warn you.”

  “About what?”

  He holds out a pair of scissors. It looks old. “Take this and cut your brother’s hair. Then give it back to us.”

  I look at them suspiciously. “Why do you want me to do that?”

  One of the boys laughs.

  “Shut up,” the leader tells his friends harshly. Then he turns to me. “Your brother’s too pretty and there are men here who like that.”

  The hair on my body stands. I reach out and take the scissors from him. My hands are shaking. “Thank you.”

  “My name is Sergei Koshkina. This is my gang. We are called the nightwalkers. You can join us if you want.”

  “What does your gang do?”

  “We look out for each other. There are bullies here. The director uses them to keep the discipline. You have to watch out for them. They don’t bother us. They won’t bother you if you join us.”

  “Why do you want me to join you?”

  The boy smiles. “Because you came in ropes. Every one of us here did.”

  I smile back. He is a kindred spirit. “My name is Nikolai Smirnov.”

  “Meet back here tomorrow night.”

  One of the boys offers me a biscuit. I take it and thank him. Clutching the scissors, I hurry back to the bed chamber. I shake Pavel awake. He rubs his eyes and makes a groaning sound. I clap my hand over his mouth until he opens his eyes and looks into mine.

  I put my finger over my mouth and he nods.

  I make him sit up and give him the biscuit. While he is eating it, I hack off as much of his hair as I can. To my horror, he doesn’t look bad. His eyes look even bigger and his little face looks angelic. I run my hands under my shoes and smear the dirt on his face.

  “What are you doing?” he asks with such perfect innocence I become terrified all over again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Star

  In less than an hour we cover the most important parts of the main house.

  “You can explore the rest at your own leisure,” Celine says, closing the door of the pool room. “Now let me take you to the breakfast room. Mr. Smirnov should already be there.”

  The breakfast room is east facing. There are three sets of doors and they are all open. The view is amazing, but the only thing I see is Nikolai sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He is dressed in an oyster-gray suit, a light-gray shirt, and a white tie. He looks aloof and unreachable. I can’t equate this immaculately groomed man with either the sexually experienced one who took me on the coffee table or the furious beast who shattered my phone.

  I take a deep breath and step into the room. He raises his stunningly silver eyes from the story he is reading, and lets them sweep down my body. He folds the newspaper and places it on the table.

  With impressive timing, Gregorios comes in. Silently, he moves towards the chair next to Nikolai. He pulls it out and waits for me. I walk towards it and he seats me smoothly.

  “Good morning,” Nikolai greets.

  “Good morning,” I reply awkwardly. I put my phone on the table. “Thank you for my new phone.”

  He nods.

  “You didn’t need to get something so expensive.”

  He frowns and seems annoyed. “Don’t be coy.”

  My back becomes rigid. “I wasn’t being coy. There was absolutely no need to buy something that expensive. A replacement phone would have done the trick nicely. I don’t need expensive toys.”

  A smile curves his lips. “Ah, but I want to spoil my little butterfly. Shower her with beautiful things.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “It’s probably a control thing. I like knowing that everything you wear, eat and own has been provided by me.”

  Gregorios takes a step forward. I have been so involved with Nikolai I actually forgot he is standing just behind me.

  “What would you like for breakfast?” Nikolai asks.

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “Anything you desire?” His eyes gleam.

  I find that I can’t hold his gaze without blushing. I avert my head in confusion. “Then I’ll have an English breakfast, please,” I tell the hovering Gregorios.

  “Syrniki for me,” Nikolai says. “And bring me another coffee.”

  As silently as he entered Gregorios leaves with our orders.

  Nikolai looks at me with a considering expression. “With all the possibilities you ordered an English breakfast.”

  “That’s right, and you ordered a Russian dish while in England.”

  He chuckles. “Touché.”

  For some weird reason I feel pleased that I made him laugh.

  “So you’ve had your tour of the house. Did you like it?”

  I nod. “It’s a beautiful house. You’re very lucky.”

  His lips twist. “Luck? I made my own luck little butterfly.”

  I look at him intrigued. “You made all this money in one lifetime?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I was willing to do what other men weren’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes flash. “Exactly what you are thinking.”

  “Like when you took me from Nigel?”

  “Exactly. Another man would have hesitated. He might have allowed his conscience to trouble him, or turned it into a question of morality. Me? I considered nothing. I wanted you and I plucked you right out of your husband’s careless hands.”

  “Would nothing have stopped you?”

  He looks deep into my eyes. “What do you think innocent little Star?”

  I stare at him. I’ve never met a person who is so open about their immorality. “What about if you had to kill someone?”

  He lifts one shoulder carelessly. “Everyone has to die at some time. So what if it is a day, a month, or … even twenty years earlier? In th
e scheme of earth’s history, billions of years, what does it matter?”

  I frown. “You’ve killed a human being before?”

  He smiles. A tiger’s smile. “If I had, and I’m not saying I have, I certainly wouldn’t be confessing the deed to you.”

  Breakfast arrives. My dish seems ordinary compared to his.

  “What are you eating? Are they pancakes?” I ask curiously as Gregorios leaves the room.

  “These are Russian dumplings. They are made from cottage cheese, flour, eggs, and eaten with jam or sour cream. Want to try?”

  I lick my bottom lip. He fed me yesterday and even the idea brings to the fore all kinds of things I don’t want to feel. “No. I’ll try it another day.”

  “As you wish,” he says, and reaches for the cream,

  “How old were you when you met Nigel?” he asks casually.

  I shift in my seat. I don’t want to tell him. I pretend to chew the eggs for a bit longer. “We were both very young,” I say finally.

  He smiles mockingly. “Nigel is a year older than me. He couldn’t possibly have been very young. How old were you?”

  “Sixteen,” I say as casually as I can.

  His eyes remain carefully veiled, but his eyebrows rise. “The pervert.”

  “He’s not a pervert,” I defend hotly. “And I resent the accusation. This is the second time you alluded to it. As a matter of fact I was very mature for my age. I didn’t look young at all.”

  “You look barely legal now.”

  “I was an early developer,” I insist aggressively.

  “Yeah? The first time he met you how were you dressed?”

  I feel myself cringe. “None of your damn business.”

  “I thought so.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “Do you want to bet I know what you were wearing?”

  “I could lie.”

  “You’re not a liar.”

  Unable to meet his knowing gaze I scowl down at my plate.

  “I’ll bet the dress you’re wearing. If you win you keep your dress on. If you lose you lose the dress.”

  “That’s a very one-sided bet,” I say.

  He laughs darkly. “Those are the kinds of bets I like.”

  “I don’t want to discuss my personal life with you anymore,” I say, cutting into my sausage.