Submitting to the Billionaire: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 13

  “Thank you,” I say politely and sit.

  He goes behind his desk and from one of the drawers he pulls out a white handkerchief. He pulls another chair out to face me and sits in front of me. “So you need to make a phone call?”

  “Yes. It is very urgent that I do, Director Razumovsky.” My voice is low and respectful.

  He strokes his handkerchief. “It is actually against the rules of this dyetskii dom to allow the children to use the phone as and when they please.”

  “This is very important. My brother and I do not belong here. I have to call my uncle so he can explain that to you. He needs to come and pick us up. He has money. He will pay you for the phone call.”

  His eyes gleam. “Very well. I will break the rules for you this time, but what will you do for me in return?”

  It is the Russian way, bribe the doctor, bribe the nurse, bribe the director of dyetskii dom. I stare at him. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing too difficult,” he says, and starts unbuttoning his fly. There is a fixed smile on his face.

  Chapter Thirty

  Star

  The first thought in my head when I wake up is the shocking way I gave myself to Nikolai last night. Completely. Without any inhibitions. As if I was desperate for him. My fingernails raking his back, my hips pushing up, forcing him deeper and deeper into me. If Nigel could have seen me. How greedy I was. He would be so shocked.

  I close my eyes at the memory.

  We didn’t even use a condom. Worse still, I don’t regret it. I wanted to feel him bare inside me. I still do. Even now, just thinking about him makes me throb with desire.

  My hand strays between my legs.

  My flesh is distended and puffy. Ever since I arrived here I have been like this, and I cannot understand why. Why he has this effect on me. I don’t even like or respect him. He exploited Nigel’s weakness and blackmailed him so he could get what he wanted. That is despicable behavior.

  Besides, he makes it abundantly clear that he only wants me for one thing. Not even the smallest hint of tenderness has he shown to me. He uses my body callously, then he leaves me as if I am dirt. Something unclean that he has to have, but hates himself for the weakness.

  And it is a weakness. I felt it last night. This undeniable need in him for my body. He could not wait to get inside me. When he climaxed the release wasn’t one from someone who had been waiting two weeks, but years and years. He became utterly rigid. Then dropped his face in the crook of my neck and remained panting for a long time, while he tried to recover.

  My fingers slide over the whorls of my flesh. I think of his tongue sliding between my folds and groan. I move my fingers in a circular movement until I fall over the edge with a gasp. The orgasm is short and strangely unsatisfactory.

  I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. After my shower I quickly call my nan to confirm that I will be going to see my dad at lunchtime. I know Nigel is probably in the underground on his way to work so I just leave him a text message. Then I get dressed in the same outfit I wore yesterday and go downstairs.

  Celine is waiting for me.

  Even though it is still early, 7.30 a.m., she tells me that Nikolai has already left for London.

  “I thought I was going to London too,” I say confused.

  “I told Mr. Smirnov that you had mentioned wanting to learn to ride this morning, so he said you might as well stay until it is time for you to go see your father, and you could go to his London residence after seeing your dad.”

  “Oh!” I exclaim, surprised that all these plans were being made for me without consulting me first.

  Celine nods. “I’ve spoken to Ray and he is ready to teach you whenever you want this morning.”

  I change into my new jodhpurs, polo T-shirt, and riding boots and I’m off to learn to ride a horse. I can barely contain my excitement as I walk over to the stables. Ray is already there and he waves when he sees me. “Mornin’, Star.”

  Miss One Penny is so placid and Ray is so confident and clear in his instructions that I quickly learn to mount and dismount. In no time at all I find myself sitting on the horse while she calmly walks around the paddock.

  An hour after my lesson I shower and get ready to go see my father. Taking my laptop with me I go out to the car. The same driver that came to pick me up from my house shows up.

  This time Celine comes out and introduces us. His name is Oleg. He seems shy and can barely meet my eyes. The three of us travel together to London. Celine gets out at Knightsbridge since she has some errands to run. Oleg takes me to the hospital.

  “Hello, Dad,” I call cheerfully as I enter his room.

  He peers at me from his bed. “Your nan said you were ill. Are you sure you’re better now?”

  “Dad. Take a look at me. Does it look like I’m still ill?”

  He frowns at me. “No, actually, you look better than you have for years. What’s up with you?”

  It is my turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve got color in your cheeks and you don’t look stressed.”

  I kiss him on his cheek. “I used to look stressed?”

  He tilts his head to look at me. “I’m glad to see you well, Star. I’ve been worried about you.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation when you’re the one just out of intensive care with a perforated bowel, a horizontal cut on your abdomen, and enough antibiotics in your body to down a horse.”

  “Eh, don’t forget the attractive colostomy bag I’m sporting too.”

  I smile. It’s good to see that he hasn’t lost his sense of humor. “Well, hopefully that will be coming off pretty soon.”

  “The thing about a colostomy bag is it makes you realize that your body is actually one great big colostomy bag.”

  I laugh. “Stop trying to gross me out, Dad.”

  My phone pings, and I see there is a message from Nigel. I feel a shaft of irritation.

  Me: Weren’t you supposed to wait for me to text or call?

  Nigel: You’re with your dad, aren’t you?

  Me: Please don’t take any more chances.

  Nigel: I have good news. I went to a Gamblers Anonymous. It was good. I’m going to do this Star. I’m going to beat this addiction.

  Me: I’m so proud of you.

  Nigel: I want to make you proud of me again.

  Me: Let me text you when I finish with Dad.

  Nigel: Missing you like crazy.

  I put my phone back into my purse and smile at Dad. “That was just Nigel.”

  “Hmmm,” he says sourly.

  Lunch arrives and I watch my dad pick listlessly at his tasteless food. He is supposed to be on a very strict diet for weeks. Thank god, he will be moving in with my nan. She’ll keep him on the straight and narrow.

  Afterwards we chat about the plants flowering in my garden. Both dad and I are keen gardeners and we always share information. I taught him that pansies can be forced to flower at the same time as sunflowers. He taught me to bury a tin filled with a little beer around my dahlias. The slugs are attracted to the smell. They crawl in and drown.

  I hate lying to my dad but know I have to tell him some believable story about why I will not be reachable at my home number for the next month, so tell him that I’m at a writing retreat in Surrey. Before he can ask any awkward questions, I start telling him about my horse riding session that morning. It works. We start talking about that until it is time for me to leave.

  Oleg is waiting for me downstairs. He walks me to the parked car and drives me to Nikolai’s London residence. Obviously he lives in a mansion right in the middle of Mayfair.

  I guess there is no other way to describe his home other than to say it is exactly what someone would expect from a Russian billionaire. Lofty ceilings, granite floors, leather walls, marble pillars, intricate moldings, all designer inspired and executed from head to toe.

  His housekeeper, Yana, comes out to the
hallway to greet me. She is polite but stiff. She offers a tour, but I decline, so she takes me upstairs to my room. The room is cream and gold. It looks totally pristine. As if no one has ever lived in it.

  She offers me something to eat and I ask her if I can have a ham and tomato sandwich in my room. Her expression of surprise is fleeting. “You can have anything you want,” she clarifies.

  “I know, but that’s all I want right now. And a pot of tea if it’s not too much trouble.”

  She nods and leaves me. A few minutes later a young girl knocks on the door and comes in with a tray of finger sandwiches and a pot of tea.

  I eat quickly. Settling myself on the big cream bed, I open my laptop and enter my make-believe world.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Star

  The door opens and I jump. Without even saving my work I hurriedly shut my computer and look up. It is a force of habit. I actually feel guilty when I write. As if I’m wasting my time, or indulging myself. I never felt like that until that time I gave my work to Nigel to read.

  Not even Rosa knows about that one time. I never told her because it hurt me so much I locked it away somewhere deep inside me and just pretended it never happened. After that I learned to write in secret.

  What did he say that hurt me so bad?

  Well, he kissed me gently on the forehead and said, “You know I love you and I want only the best for you, right?”

  My heart was breaking as I nodded.

  “I’m going to be really honest because I don’t want you to go down the wrong path. Is that okay?”

  Dumbly I nodded.

  “I’m afraid to say it’s very childish, my darling.”

  “It’s a children’s book,” I whispered.

  “I get that, but it’s just badly written. I don’t want you to get hurt and rejected by other people. Maybe you can try again when you are much older and you have more maturity. Then your voice and delivery style won’t be so irritating.”

  I couldn’t say a word.

  “Look, why don’t I take you to dinner? We’ll go somewhere really nice, hmmm? How about Nama? You like their fermented mocha cheesecake, don’t you?”

  I nodded and forced a smile.

  He smiled back and kissed me again. After that time, we never spoke about my writing again.

  Now I glance up towards the door. Nikolai is standing there. There is a frown on his face. He walks towards me and I stand nervously.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say instantly.

  “Are you writing to Nigel?”

  “What? No. I’m not.”

  His eyes narrow. “So what were you doing?”

  I shake my head. “I was just messing about.”

  “Messing about?”

  “It means just wasting my time.”

  “Show me.”

  “No,” I screech, alarmed.

  His eyes narrow. “What are you hiding, little butterfly?”

  “I’m just writing a little story.”

  “A story?”

  “Like a book?” I try to explain.

  His whole face relaxes. “You’re writing a book?”

  “Well, not exactly a book. Okay, yeah. It’s a book. But I’m not very good and I’m not expecting to publish it, or anything. I’m just writing for fun. It’s just a meaningless jumble. Just random thoughts. I’m not thinking—”

  “Star?”

  “What?”

  “Show me,” he says gently.

  I take a deep breath. I can’t show him. “No. It’s not very good.”

  “Have you showed anybody?”

  I bite my lip. “Yes.”

  “Nigel?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he didn’t like it?”

  I shake my head. My god, the hurt is still there. Tears start prickling the backs of my eyes and I look down and swallow hard.

  He walks over to me and puts a finger under my chin. I am so shocked by the tenderness of his gesture that my eyes widen. “What kind of book is it?”

  I swallow the stone in my throat. “It’s just a kids’ book.”

  “What is it about?”

  “This group of four kids who set up a private detective agency and together with their dog go around solving crimes in their neighborhood.”

  “I want to read it.”

  “Why?” My voice is just a whisper.

  “Just trust me and let me read it.”

  I hesitate.

  “One chapter. If I don’t like it, you’ve lost nothing.”

  “But …”

  “You can’t trust the judgment of one person. So what if Nigel doesn’t like it? Do you know what they told JK Rowling when they gave her a measly advance of £2,000?”

  I shake my head, mesmerized that we were talking at this level.

  “They told her not to give up her day job.” He raises his eyebrows. “They are one of the biggest publishers in the world, and what did they know?”

  I chew my bottom lip. “One chapter?”

  He nods seriously. “One chapter.”

  “I’ll get it printed off tomorrow and give it to you then.”

  “You’ll be dead with anxiety by then. Just pass me the laptop. I’ll read from there.”

  “But it won’t feel right.”

  He walks away from me and settles down on one of the pristine cream couches. “I’m ready when you are.”

  I carry on looking at him for a few seconds more, then I make my decision. I open my very first book, when the four kids first met, and take it to him. Our fingers don’t touch.

  He bends his head and starts reading, and I take a step back. Not knowing what to do with myself I walk to the bed and perch on it, but I can’t sit still, so I stand up and walk to the window.

  I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like it. He most probably won’t, because it’s not written for a billionaire. It’s meant for children. I look down at the garden, and don’t see a thing until I hear a sound behind me. I whirl around, my face expressionless, determined that I won’t let him hurt me.

  “Well?” I gasp.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Star

  He smiles slowly. “It’s wonderful.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  I can’t stop grinning. “It’s actually meant for children.”

  “I know. It is delightfully carefree, fun, and engaging.”

  I keep grinning like a Cheshire cat on steroids. “Really?”

  “Have you finished the whole book?”

  “Finished? I’m on to my fifth adventure.”

  He raises his eyebrow. “You’ve written five books?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why don’t you find a publisher?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. I didn’t think it was good enough and I was just writing because I love writing. It’s an escape for me. When I write I live in another world, where I can make whatever I want happen.”

  He smiles. “If you draft out a query letter to a literary agency I’ll get Sophia, my secretary, to do all the legwork for you. She can find the appropriate agencies and send out your sample chapter, CV or whatever they require.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugs. “Why not? There’s no point keeping it locked up in your laptop.”

  I grin again. “Okay.”

  “Good.”

  “Thank you, Nikolai. It’s very kind of you.”

  His face closes over again, as if he has just remembered that we are not supposed to be friends. He nods curtly. “Be ready for eight. We’re going out to dinner.”

  When he walks out I launch myself onto bed and laugh with sheer joy. Somebody actually likes my writing!

  At 7.30 p.m., I open the cream cupboard in my room and I find glamorous clothes in my size. It’s almost like a Beauty and the Beast scenario, and it makes me smile.

  I choose a
white fitted dress with a slit at the back and team my outfit with a pair of skin-colored court shoes. I leave my hair pinned on one side with a clip and tumbling loose down my back. A slick of nude lip gloss and a layer of mascara later I am ready. I put my phone on silent mode and go downstairs. Semyon is standing in the entryway. He walks to a door, opens it for me, and stands back. He doesn’t smile and neither do I.

  I enter an immaculate ultra-modern sitting room. Nikolai is standing at a window looking out. At the sound of my entrance he turns around and looks at me. Instantly I feel that intense magnetic pull between us.

  He turns around fully and comes towards me, stopping a foot away. “Very, very sexy,” he says softly.

  I feel myself blush. He is wearing a black suit, white shirt and a silver and black striped tie.

  “You look pretty hot yourself,” I say daringly.

  His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Would you like a drink?”

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic, thank you.”

  He inclines his head. “Have a seat,” he says as he saunters away.

  I let go of the breath I’m holding. Whenever he is near I feel nervous and hot and bothered.

  “Is Celine staying here?” I ask.

  “No, she is next door with the rest of my staff.”

  “You bought the property next door to house your staff?” I ask incredulously.

  He looks up from mixing my drink. “Why wouldn’t I? It makes perfect sense. There’s no travel time, and I have access to them anytime I need.”

  I sit. “Yes, I suppose when money is not the object you can do such things.”

  “Yes, money oils everything.”

  “I suppose you have many charities that you support?”

  He smiles at me. “No.”

  “Why not? You’re a billionaire. Think how much good you can do in the world.”

  He walks towards me with my drink. “Stop being naïve, Star. How do you think one becomes a billionaire in the first place?”

  I scowl as I take my drink from him.