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.
"I'm a billionaire because I made millions of people all around the world poorer. Through immoral and illegal means, I acquired resources for a fraction of the price they should have been. What should have belonged to the people I took for myself."
I stare at him, shocked.
"You seem surprised. Why?"
"That you so casually admit to immoral and illegal practices."
"All billionaires are ugly human beings, Star. When you see a billionaire receiving an award, or being applauded for his admirable philanthropy, don't be fooled. His efforts have nothing to do with charity. Billionaires are hungry people. Always wanting more and more. But after one becomes a billionaire there's only ultimate power and control left to conquer."
He takes a sip of his drink.
"I'm many things, but I'm not a hypocrite, so I won't do it."
He takes me to Clos Maggiore. I've heard of it but never been. It is very famous and bookings have to be made months in advance. We are shown to the coveted main room.
It is so beautiful and romantic it actually takes my breath away. It has a charming fireplace right in the middle, but what makes it so fabulous is the ceiling, which is a canopy of blossoming white flowers that seems to envelop all the diners. There are only a few tables so there is a lot of privacy. You almost feel as if you are in a magical garden.
Nikolai is charming and attentive. The wine is delicious, and in no time the sheer magic of the place snakes around me, making me feel as if I am out on a real date. Once our hands accidentally touch, I see that flash of fierce desire in Nikolai's eyes, but a waiter comes with our starters and the moment is gone.
I have truffle infused pappardelle, which is so soft and light it melts in my mouth. I look up at Nikolai. His eyes are on his food and his eyelashes make a shadow on his cheek. I watch him and feel a strange sensation in my stomach. I want to reach out and touch him. I want him to be mine. I blink in surprise. Where the hell did that come from?
He looks up. "What is it?"
I shake my head and make myself smile naturally. It must be the wine. Or the intimacy of this place. Of course I don't want him to be mine. It's a crazy idea. To start with he can't be. And even more important, I'm married. I have Nigel. He is my life. This is just an interlude. We are passing ships. Nothing more.
"This is delicious," I say.
"Wait till you taste the beef," he replies.
He is right. The beef is amazing, and the duck fat chips are perfectly golden and crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
Dessert is brought out. It is something that couples are supposed to share. I can't look away from his eyes as the burnt honey ice cream and Armagnac jelly coats my tongue.
In a strange lust-induced daze I get into the car. Our bodies don't touch and we don't look at each other, but I can feel the heat that comes from his body.
When I look down at his crotch I see how hard he is.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Star
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1fGOG3XXIQ
Poison
I follow her up to her bedroom. The maids have been around to turn down the bed and light the bedside lamps.
She stops in the middle of the room and half-turns to look at me. Even if I didn't know what an invitation looked like I couldn't miss that one. I look at her mouth slightly open, her cheeks flushed, and I want to hold her tight and kiss her so bad it fucking hurts, but that scenario is not in the cards.