Submitting to the Billionaire(9)

He looks at me as if I have slapped him. "Are you bored?"

"No, I'm not bored. I'm, I was very happy, but Rosa wouldn't be if she  had to live my life of hardly meeting anyone, hardly going anywhere  except if it is out with you."

His eyes narrow. "She's already poisoned you."

I sigh. "I don't think Rosa is where your energy should be targeted right now."

"I'm sorry, Star. It's just that I don't like her. I never have. There's  a nasty streak in her. You can say what you want, but you've got  something she'll never have."         

     



 

"What? You?" I ask, sarcastically.

"You're still mad at me," he accuses. Fumes of alcohol waft from his breath.

"Mad at you? Whatever would make you think that? No. I'm super happy with you, Nigel. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't have to do this, Star. I've been sitting here, lost. I can't  bear the thought of that bastard touching you. Don't go, please," he  pleads.

"Well you should have thought of the consequences of your actions while  you were gambling away everything we had," I say sharply.

He reaches out to grab my hand. I yank mine quickly away.

"I know and I'm sorry. I never thought anything like this would happen."

"I'm not in the mood for this discussion, Nigel."

He looks guiltily at me and I want him to feel guilt. I want him to  understand the enormity of the situation he has put us into. Rosa can  call it an adventure, but I don't see it that way at all. My sweet  little life, the one that I adored and would have been content living  out for the rest of my life, is about to be changed forever. I feel fury  in my stomach with Nigel for doing this. I quickly change the subject.  "Have you spoken to the Russian?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He will send a car for you at seven."

I blink with shock. A car for me. As if I am a hooker.

"You don't have to do this," Nigel says softly. "I can figure something  else out," he says, but this time I feel that there is a lack of  conviction in his voice and I sense that it is only a lame attempt to  discourage me from doing what we both know is the only real solution.

"How will this work? Do I pack a suitcase?"

"No," he says quickly. "You are to take nothing with you."

"What do you mean? What about my clothes and things?"

"Everything will be provided. The contract is very clear. You are to go tonight and take nothing with you."

"Where will I be living?"

"Windlesham."

"Where is that?"

"In Surrey. It's just over an hour from here."

"Will I see you during the month?"

"We'll figure something out. There is no way I can survive a whole month without seeing you at least a couple of times."

I nod.

"We'll speak on the phone all the time, okay?" he says reassuringly.

"Okay."

He touches my hand gently. "We'll make it through this, and we'll be stronger for it."

"Did you make the appointment for the out-patient clinic?"

"Of course I did."

"For when?"

"Tomorrow," he says, his eyes on the floor.

"You better be telling the truth, Nigel. Because I swear, if I ever find  out that you're not serious about your recovery, I'll walk away. No  matter how much it hurts me, I'll walk away."

He grabs my hands with both of his. "I will change, I swear. I'll make you proud of me again, Star."

"I'm going up to lie down for a bit then change. Please don't follow me.  I just need a bit of time on my own," I say, as I disengage from his  grasp and start climbing the stairs.

"Your Nan called," he calls after me.

I stop and turn to look at him. His face is turned up, making him boyish.

"She asked how you were feeling. I told her you were lying down."

"Thanks."

"Your mother called too. She wants you to call her back."

I nod and start to turn away.

"You didn't tell her, did you?"

I shake my head. "What do you take me for, Nigel. The last person in the world I'm going to tell is my mother."

"Sorry. Sorry, of course you didn't. I'm just so confused, Star."

"Join the club,' I say, and run upstairs.





Chapter Twelve





Star





I lay down on our unmade bed and close my eyes. I didn't make it this  morning so it has remained unmade. I think of Nigel opening my legs last  night, and my stomach churns at the thought of giving my body to a  complete stranger. I clench my hands and take a deep breath.

Then I dig my phone out of my bag and call my nan. I keep up the fiction  that I'm not feeling well and she agrees to go see my dad alone  tomorrow. In fact, she suggests that I take the whole weekend off. I  thank her, then call my mother.

"Hi, Mum," I say quietly. I can hear the sound of a TV in the background.

"Nigel said you were not feeling very well. What's wrong with you?"

"Probably one of those flu things."

"Well, that's what you get for going to hospital every single day. Oh,  for heaven's sake anyone would think that man was dying the way you keep  running to his bedside."         

     



 

"What did you want, Mum?"

"Can't I just call my daughter without wanting anything?" she huffs.

"Yeah, sure. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"And David?" I ask, referring to the man she married two years ago.

"Yeah, he's fine too  …  um  …  I was wondering if I could borrow a couple  of hundred pounds. I'll give it back at the end of the month. You know  how it is. Ha, ha, of course, you don't with Nigel being so rich and  everything."

I swallow hard. "I'll transfer the money Monday morning."

"Um  …  I would prefer if you could do an internet transfer this afternoon, sweetheart."

"Fine, I'll do it straightaway."

I look at my watch. It's getting late. "I've got to go, Mum. I'll speak to you soon."

I end the call, transfer the money out of my account into hers, and go  into the bathroom. I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself.  How strange that I look exactly the same. None of the momentous  upheavals going on inside me shows on my face. I turn on the shower,  undress, and step inside the cubicle. The hot water doesn't wash away  the feeling of grime and dirt.

I wrap a towel around me and go sit in front of my dresser. Wet blonde  curls hang down to my shoulders. My mind is blank as I blow out my hair  until it lies in soft waves around my face. I take off the towel and  stare critically at my naked body in the mirror. No man other than my  husband has seen me nude.

My body is not perfect. My breasts are too small and my thighs are thick  and round. Nigel likes them, but what if the Russian finds them a turn  off? Will all this be for nothing then? Will he send me away and expect  the debt to be paid in another way?

A chill runs through me.

In a panic, I pull open a drawer and look through my lipsticks. I locate  a deep red color. I hardly ever wear anything this rich. Nigel prefers  me in peachy colors. I apply it to my lips and the change to my  appearance is immediate. My mouth looks big and inviting. I swipe two  layers of mascara. That makes an even bigger improvement.

I go towards my wardrobe and glance at my clothes anxiously. I own  nothing sexy. I pull my black dress out. It is not revealing, but it is  sophisticated. Perhaps a billionaire will think it is old-fashioned.

I slip into my dressing gown and go downstairs. I am barefoot so I make  no noise as I go down the stairs and cross the hallway into the living  room. Nigel is sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. I feel my  heart tug. It's a disease. I have to keep reminding myself of that  fact.

"Nigel?"

His head jerks up.

"What if I go there and he decides he doesn't want me? What happens then?"

"Then the debt gets paid anyway."

"But I thought we had to sign a contract first."

"He's already signed and couriered his contract over to us. He can't back out anymore."

"Oh! You didn't tell me he sent the contract over."

He makes a vague movement towards the writing table. "It's there. I'm  not worried about his stupid contract, Star. My heart's breaking. You're  going off to be with another man. You're mine. My baby. You don't know  what it's like to be sitting here while you get ready to go to him.  Knowing it's my fault. My stupidity. My greed. My carelessness. What was  I thinking? God! What a fucking fool I've been."

My heart feels like an ice splinter in my chest. I take a deep breath. I  want to run to him, wrap my hands around him and comfort him, but I  don't. I don't want to make it easy for him. I don't want to be the  enabler who tells him that I'll always be here to pay his debts off with  my body.

"What's the time now?" I ask.

He looks at his watch and flinches. "Half-five."

"I guess I better finish getting ready," I say turning away.

"You're wearing red lipstick," he calls.