Submitting to the Billionaire(20)

"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.

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."