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Submitting to the Billionaire(17)

By:Georgia Le Carre


I've never felt this way before.

Then he stands up, fully clothed, completely in control, and looks down  on me. Naked, used, my legs wide open, my sex completely exposed. His  eyes rove my body. I can't name the expression on his face. It looks  like triumph, satisfaction, and just plain lust.

In this moment, there is nothing more I want than him inside me. There  was an aching void inside me, and I wanted him to fill it.

"Get dressed and go to your room," he says, his voice harsh.

As I stare at him wide-eyed he turns around and walks out of the room  with long strides, as if he can't bear to be with me for another second.  For a while, I am too confused and stunned to move. Then I quickly get  dressed, and slip out of the room. The hallway is deserted and silent.

I run up the sweeping stairs and go into my room. My phone is buzzing on  the dresser. I pick it up. There are seventeen messages from Nigel. I  stare at them. Each one is more desperate than the earlier one.



Call me

Please call me.

I'm really worried here. Where are you?

Star. I'm going to call the police if you don't call me soon.

Fucking hell. Call me.

Star. I'm going mad here.

Oh God. I can't do this for a month.

Star. Call me. Please. I'm dying here.

Are you there?

Call me as soon as you see this.



There are more messages, but I don't click into them. I dial his number, and he picks up on the first ring.

"Star," he cries desperately.

"Yeah," I say guiltily. I never thought of him once while I was with Nikolai. Not once.

"Are you all right?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Where have you been? I've been going crazy here."

"I was having dinner. I told you."

"Dinner? You've been MIA for more than two hours."

"Have I?" My head feels fuzzy. I can't think.

"For fucks sake, Star. What's the matter with you? You are acting like you don't care."

"I do care. Very much. Otherwise I wouldn't be here." My voice sounds strange. I wanted the other man inside me.

"Star, I love you. I can't do this anymore. I want you to come back."

I feel that flash of anger. "Yeah, and what happens to my dad?"

To my horror he starts sobbing softly.

"Please don't cry, Nigel. Please."

"I'm sorry. I think I'm just stressed and worried. You sound like you don't give a shit about us anymore."

"Of course not."

"Do you love me, Star?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." I feel good saying it. That at least is true. I feel  guilty that I enjoyed everything Nikolai did to me and that I wanted  more, but that is just a physical thing. I love Nigel. I love him very  much.         

     



 

"Has he done anything to you yet?"

"Yes."

There is a shocked pause. "You mean he didn't wait for tonight?"

I feel a flash of irritation. "No, Nigel. He didn't wait. Just like you  didn't wait for the night to come when you were first dating me."

"You didn't enjoy it, did you?"

I've never heard him sound so unsure of himself. "Look, Nigel. I don't  want to talk about it, okay. For this to work we can't talk about what I  do with him."

"You did enjoy it then," he pounces.

"I didn't say that. I said, I just didn't want to talk about it. It feels too weird. This is just the arrangement you made."

Suddenly the door flies open. I whirl around and see Nikolai standing at  the doorway. His face is a mask of such rage I actually take a step  back as if struck. I stare at him with my jaw hanging loose. There is a  white band around his mouth.

I know I shouldn't, I have no reason to feel it, but I suddenly feel as  if I've done something very wrong. Nigel is saying something, but I  don't hear it. All I see is Nikolai's blazing eyes. He strides towards  me and wrenches the phone from my nerveless fingers. He holds it to his  ear and listens to Nigel for a couple of seconds then he opens his mouth  and I recoil at the utter contempt in his voice.

"Don't you dare call her again while she is in my house. If I catch you  sniffing around her again, I'll break every bone in your miserable  body." His voice is so low and deadly I can hardly believe it is the  same man who fed me a piece of lamb.

Before Nigel can say anything, he flings the phone towards the wall. It smashes on impact and falls down in pieces.

"Oh, my god," I wail in horror. "My dad. The hospital needs to be able to contact me. I need my phone."

I rush to the wall and crawling around start picking up the pieces. I  try to put them together but my hands are shaking so much I can't.

"It's broken." I look at him with hatred. "You broke my phone. How dare  you? How could you do that? First you humiliate me then you break my  property. You didn't have the right to do that. I hate you. You're  nothing but a big bully," I scream, and tears start running down my  face. "I've got no phone now. You arrogant asshole."

He stares at me, crouched on the floor, tears running down my face.

A muscle in his jaw ticks furiously. Something flashes into his eyes.  Suddenly he looks confused or hurt. But how can that be? Then his jaw  tightens.

"You'll have a new phone in an hour." He turns on his heel and walks out.

I fall on the floor and sob. I wouldn't normally have reacted so badly,  but the incredible emotions of the day must have finally caught up with  me.





Chapter Twenty-Two





Nikolai





"You're nothing but a big bully."

The words reverberate around in my brain like an echo. I thought I had  killed that motherfucker, but it is not dead. The past can never die. It  lies down quietly in a dark well of sorrow, and when you least expect,  it jumps out at you. After all these years. The scars have outwardly  healed, but the ugliness underneath remains as vivid as yesterday. I  turn away from her quickly. I don't want her to see. Not her. I'm  already too exposed. Too vulnerable.

My hand shakes as I close the door behind me. I hear her crying and I want to go to her, but I won't. It's not safe for me.

The past. There is no escaping it.

It's not dead.

It's still calling  …



Twenty-six Years Ago  …





"Boys can you come down, please," our housekeeper, Duscha, calls.

I turn instantly to my younger brother, Pavel. It is a late autumn  afternoon, and we are both in our study room doing our homework. His  head is bent over his picture book and his expression is one of intent  concentration. It is possible he didn't even hear Duscha, but any excuse  to stop studying works for me.

"Come on. Let's go see what she wants," I say, jumping up.

My brother looks up from his book. His eyes are green like Mama's, and  his fair hair is long and curly. It makes him look more like a girl than  a boy, but Mama can't bear to cut it because it is so beautiful.

"Nikolai. Pavel," Duscha hollers up again.

We race down one flight of stairs, then another. My legs are stronger  and longer than Pavel's so I get there faster, but I skid to a stop at  the end of the hallway. Duscha is standing next to a man and woman I  don't recognize.

"Come here, little ones," Duscha calls gently.

We do as we are told, but warily. There is no smile on Duscha's usually  cheerful, round face. My gaze slides over to the strangers standing next  to her.         

     



 

The man is wearing a hat and a long, black coat. His face is still and  pale. The woman is dressed in a navy suit. She is so perfectly groomed  there is not a hair out of place. Mama has the same pair of sturdy shoes  as hers, but unlike Mama she has cold blue eyes.

Duscha nods and says, "Come my little darlings."

I take my brother's hand and we walk towards her, stopping close to her.  She crouches, opens her arms out to Pavel, and envelops him in a hug,  but keeps her gaze on me.

"Nikolai, these people work with your father and mother. They have  …   they have something to tell you both." Her lower lip is trembling and  she looks nervous and sad.

The man steps forward and removes his hat. "It is my duty to inform you  that your parents were involved in a road accident. They are both dead."  His delivery is robotic and devoid of any emotion.

I feel Duscha reach out and squeeze my hand tightly. I turn to look at  my brother. He is only six and I can see that he doesn't understand. He  stares at me with large, frightened eyes. My hands clench into fists. It  is impossible that my parents are dead. I refuse to believe them. I  know instinctively not to trust these people.

"They are not dead. I just spoke to them last night," I say fiercely.

"I know it's difficult to accept, but they are dead," the woman confirms.

I break free from Duscha's grip. "No. I don't believe you."

"Nevertheless, you must come with us," the woman says.

Dushca stands.

I try to grab my brother and run back upstairs, but the man catches me  by the arm, and pulls me away from Pavel. Pavel starts crying.

"Leave us alone," I scream, and kick wildly at the man's shins.