by Ana Calin
The Revenge of Andrey Jones
there’s a fine line between love and hate
Ana Calin
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the author except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and
events are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is
coincidental.
Copyright 2017 – Ana Calin
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter One
Andrey Jones looks incredible in his designer suit. I know he’s a dish under it, I’ve seen him work out at the gym and, yes, I’ve slobbered.
“Ms. Lila Banks.” He walks to me, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you in proper clothes.”
I square my shoulders and fight back the flush. He gives me a smile, and I stick up even more. His strong-boned face and dark blue eyes have an effect I haven’t been forced to endure since my teens. I was never good with crushes.
“Have a seat.” He motions to the expensive sofa in the middle of his office. I whisk my skirt stiffly and cross my ankles like the lady I’m not. I glance at my reflection in the glass door I entered through – enough to make sure the platinum blond chignon is in place, no loosened strands, eyes sober and opaque.
Andrey Jones takes the armchair across from me, the skyscraper-on-blood-sunset skyline behind him.
“I’ve read your resume,” he begins, making himself broad with hands on the chair arms, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. Everything about him is masculine and intimidating. “Which I wouldn’t have done without Tom’s recommendation.”
I’ve flirted with his best friend at the gym to win his favor. At the gym he’d accepted I submitted a resume while drying himself with a towel, barely looking at me and addressing only Tom. I try on a reserved smile. “And which I deeply appreciate. I know you’re a very busy man.”
“Indeed.”
Smart-ass. I clear my throat.
He speeds over the pleasantries. “I want to talk about your financial tracking experience. You mention it in your resume, but don’t go in depth.”
I shrug. “Define in depth.”
He smiles an unfriendly smile that glosses over his shark-like businessman impatience. There’s something sly in his expression as he leans forward and pours us both hot coffee from the kettle his secretary brought in. He’s close enough now that I feel his scent – clean fabric and body wash.
“Lila,” he says, then pauses to look up at me from under his eyebrows as the hot liquid ripples into the cup. “I may call you Lila, yes?”
I keep my back straight and invite him with a reserved nod. “Andrey.”
He grins. “I see. Tell me, Lila, do you believe having me sweat for details serves your purpose? It’s you who applied for the job, not me who tendered.”
“Tom said you needed a good financial analyst. I’m a great financial analyst.”
“Then how come you’re in need of a job instead of rejecting offers?”
“I’m not in need of a job.” I square my shoulders. “I’m currently working for Jinx Enterprises, Assistant Head Analyst, but I hit a dead-end. The glass ceiling is now steel. It’s impenetrable from this point on. Your enterprise is smaller, chances higher. I mean, I’m now negotiating directly with you, the owner. I analyzed your growth trajectory, and I’m confident you’ll be a mammoth company in five years max. When that happens, I want to be well seated at a big desk.”
He stares hard at me. “Well, there’s a blonde, young and hot as hell, talking like a veritable Wall Street jackal.”
“Now, now,” I say, putting up my palms in virtual protection. The last thing I expected was for Andrey Jones to suddenly morph into a misogynist bastard. He has a good reputation that way. He built his business from scratch, and donates regularly to abused women’s shelters because his mother had died in one of them, according to the press. “No need to go sexist on me. Just tell me you don’t need my services, and I sprint out the door.”
“Oh, I want your services, squirrel.”
That word . . . “Excuse me?”
Andrey Jones leans forward with elbows on his knees, his dark blue eyes intimidating as hell. “I know about your past, Lila Banks,” he slurs. “You used to sleep with the Jinx big boss until he sold his shares and disappeared. Is that the reason you came to me? You fear for your job now that your protector, the Big Boss, ditched you?”
“I, I . . .” I don’t know how to react. I babble and look around, shocked. The Big Boss affair is old, very old, it was over before Big Boss left Jinx, and it has nothing to do with my visit here. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that no one was supposed to know about it.
“I should go,” I mutter. I stand, but before I can take a step Andrey Jones grabs my wrist and practically hauls me right back into the sofa. I sink into the brown leather cushions, pulling my knees close. Fear crawls up my skin as he looms over me, his face a calm mask, but his eyes molten. They catch a russet hue that makes him resemble a demon with blood irises in the glowing sunset.
“You can’t go now, squirrel,” he says with mock calmness. “You cringe at the word? Why? You sure used to like it when he called you that.”
“H-How do you even know?”
“I’m a resourceful man.” He gives me a wicked grin. “I knew before you even approached Tom. Or what? You thought you were the only hot blonde with a killer body that worked her charms on him to get to me?” He throws his head back and laughs, a bully in a suit. A big, strong bully, the type who might once have been the high school football star. “Tom’s a veteran playboy, squirrel, he’s not that easy to impress.”
The meaning of his words dawns on me, my pulse thumping hard in my temples. “You manipulated me?”
“Yes, I did,” he says, taking back his seat. His fingers splay over the chair arms, making him look broad and powerful. He reminds me of Big Boss, only that he’s much younger and wickedly attractive.
“Listen to me carefully, Lila Banks. I don’t know if your lover the Big Boss ever let you in on his big secrets, but here is the ugliest one: He leaked money to top secret genetic research labs that bugged people’s DNA in ways that would make Bram Stoker shudder. He had them experiment on what he labeled ‘lowly humans’, mostly prostitutes whose families lost track of them, or convicts. I want to know where these labs are located, and for that I want to use your financial tracking skills.”
My ears buzz. I need a pinch. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind a slap if it shakes the stun out of my brain. I must be staring with an open mouth as Andrey Jones leans in.
“Here is the plan, Lila,” he slurs. “You will start digging. You will find me those labs. And you will find me Big Boss.”
“But I –”
“It’s your duty,” he interrupts, his eyes glinting like guns in the sunset. “Your moral duty to help us – the authorities and me – to uncover what that bastard did.”
Fear spreads like ice all over my body. “The authorities?”
“The F.B.I.’s got my back on this,” he replies coldly.
“But why me?” I mut
ter, barely keeping it together. “I don’t know anything about this whole thing, affair or no affair.”
Andrey Jones leans back in his chair, picking up his coffee. “As the villain’s former lover, you must have good knowledge of how his brain is wired.”
“Big Boss never shared with me –”
“You were only an office mistress, Lila, I get that,” he interrupts, clearly aiming to hurt. His eyes like blue marbles cut me to the core as he speaks the next words, and I feel he’s hated me long before he met me. “I don’t doubt he shared little else with you besides the office couch, his desk, and maybe occasionally a motel room. But a smart girl like you will be able to decipher his more serious dealings, too, for sure.”
“What if I say no?” I dare, jutting out my chin.
“That would be unwise. As I said, the authorities have my back, and I can get you in a lot of trouble, Lila Banks.”
What have I ever done to him?
Chapter Two
The next time I see Andrey Jones it’s in a place where I expect him least – at an event organized by Jinx. He emerges in the party room, strolling among the champagne drinking crooks in expensive suits. Greed seeps out of their predator grins, and their eyes are glassy and cold, but Andrey is different.
He’s too handsome and too young for this place, his athletic body outlined in a dark quality suit. There’s a swan-like woman on his arm, slim and tall, a toned leg emerging from the split of her red dress with every step she takes. Ebony hair in a chignon, striking powder-blue eyes. Probably in herself a label of the New York modeling business, but I wouldn’t know. All I know is that my chest caves in when I lay eyes on her, and that she and Andrey are soon the stars of the party. Everybody stares and whispers behind their backs.
Champagne in hand, I decide to keep on my supervisor’s trail, desperate to avoid Andrey. He shouldn’t be here, not considering that I’m leaking him information, and no one should ever come to suspect we know each other. His presence is like a thorn between my ribs.
My supervisor is in a heated discussion with the Head of Operations as Andrey and the model approach. My heartbeat quickens with every step they take – Is he trying to expose me?
“Ms. Lila Banks, what a pleasant surprise,” Andrey greets, and the blood drains from my head.
He brings his face close to mine, taking my hand. Bony masculine features and a cunning expression, the man is mighty attractive. Why the hell do I even think of that right now? I swallow hard.
“Mr. Jones, yes. Pleasant indeed,” I manage in a squeaky voice that embarrasses me even more.
He takes my hand to his hot mouth and kisses it as my supervisor steps in, waiting to be introduced. He’s a big and protective presence, in his early fifties, cleanly shaven and serious-frowned.
“Andrey Jones, this is Mr. Boyd, my supervisor,” I mutter.
The way Andrey glances from me to Boyd makes my heart sink. I know what he’s thinking – that I went for another older protector to replace Big Boss. I want to scream there’s nothing between Boyd and me, that I’m not the bimbo he believes me to be. If I must, I’ll run after him when he leaves the party, and do so.
“Dr. Boyd,” my supervisor corrects and holds out his hand, palm downward like a domineering animal. But Andrey is no less of a predator. He walks just slightly to the side, forcing Boyd to subconsciously rotate his hand, and only takes it when the palm faces upward. Boyd doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s too late.
“Doctor,” Andrey slurs in that voice of his that electrifies me. “Nice to meet you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Boyd grunts, sticking out his chest and putting on an unfriendly frown. He slips his hands in his pockets. “This party is for clients and partners, Mr. Jones, not for the competition. You’re not welcome here.”
Andrey responds with a sly grin. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Doctor. Especially since, thanks to Lila here, I’ve become one of your strongest partners.”
Something snaps in my brain. I give him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing glare, barely keeping from shaking.
“What do you mean?” Boyd demands, his hands emerging out of his pockets and balling into fists. “Your company and the Jinx never –”
Andrey interrupts with a laugh, and lifts his glass of champagne as if in a toast. He grins, but his blue eyes gleam viciously. “Well, you know how it is, Doctor, never say never.”
Boyd turns to me, his face distorting in anger. “Care to explain this, Ms. Banks?”
“Oh, let me do it,” Andrey takes over. “You see, Lila was kind enough to share with me – upon my request, of course – the names and locations of the laboratories in Europe that Jinx works with.” He holds up his palm as if he’s asking for patience. “I know, I know, top secret information, not even Lila was supposed to have access to it. But, as you’re surely aware of by now, Dr. Boyd, Lila is a fantastic financial tracker, and she did a great job of following the money. Then she and I got close –” He grins at me, aware he makes it sound like we slept together, “and she helped me buy the main lab in Switzerland.” He turns to the model and takes her hand.
“Lila, what is this?” Boyd looks at me with beetle-like eyes, his face whiter than paper. “This can’t be really happening.”
“I, I,” I’m lost for words, and my head spins. I’m burning all over. A desperate need to get out takes over me.
I square my shoulders, turn on my heel and head for the elevator, ignoring Boyd’s calls and almost running by the time I reach the hallway. Jesus Christ, I have to escape! They can even lock me up for breaching the NDA.
The hem of my dress rips in my haste – I’m wearing a little black pencil one that’s too tight above my knees, and a vintage hair-do that must look like a broom on volts by now. I punch the metal button by the elevator, and the downward arrow lights up red. The elevator begins to climb leisurely, and I want to punch the metal doors as if that could rush them to open. Seconds pass like minutes, and my throat feels tight, as if my jugular shrinks in size. Freaking Andrey Jones got what he wanted, and now he set out to destroy my life.
The elevator doors begin to open just as Boyd emerges from the reception room and stomps toward me with a menacing frown. I turn my eyes to the elevator, desperate to fling myself inside it, but two ominous figures in black suits step into my field of vision, placing themselves between my escape and me.
“You’re coming with us, Ms. Banks.”
My teeth clatter in my mouth, and my brain goes fuzzy.
Chapter Three
Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse drag me to a room on a lower hotel floor, and throw me inside. I hit the ground and scramble away from them, recoiling in a corner. They take position by the door, one on each side.
“Take off your dress,” Mr. Bad says – shaved head and goatee, neck tattoo right above the shirt collar. I don’t react, looking at him with an open mouth, trying to process what he just said. He repeats and approaches, and I automatically crawl out of his way. He gets me between one of the beds and the AC unit.
I barely understand what’s happening as he pulls me up and tears off my dress. Before I know it I’m standing only in my bra, panties and stockings, no shoes, each of the men keeping me in place by one arm, while I scream and wriggle. I throw a look at the window, seeking the smallest chance at escape. Beyond the reflection of a blond woman in black underwear and stockings struggling with the perspective of rape I see it’s bricked up. Panic spikes.
“This isn’t helping your situation,” Mr. Worse says, his grin somehow reptilian. With his free hand he grabs my jaw, and I’m even afraid he might shoot out a split tongue, but what he does is force my head to look in the direction of the door as I hear it open.
It takes a few seconds of heart-hammering suspense until Andrey Jones enters the room accompanied by the model. Andrey’s gaze is hateful as he approaches me, clearly relishing the sight.
“Well, well, well, nice package,” he says, measuring me up and down. His voic
e makes the finest hairs stand on my arms. “You’ll do well in the business.”
My mind doesn’t even try to dodge the meaning of his words. Prostitution screams out in my head. Whatever I’ve done to him, he hates my guts beyond reason.
“There must be better use you can put me to.” I hear myself as if I’m outside my body, merely a witness. It must be the shock.
“Oh, I have very good use for you, Lila Banks,” he jeers, and moves out of the way, holding out his hand and inviting his girlfriend to come forward. As she does the expression on her face intensifies – she relishes the sight of me, too, the sight of despair and humiliation. Her powder-blue irises glide hatefully all over me, but soon the satisfaction begins to fade. It’s like pity takes over.
“Lila, may I introduce,” Andrey says. “This is Monique Jones.” His wife!? His opaque blue gaze meets mine. “My mother.”
My eardrums threaten to snap at the news. My whole body petrifies as I stare at the beauty in front of me, young and taut, and – this is freaking impossible.
“But she’s . . . the women’s shelter, she’s –” My voice fades.
“Dead?” Andrey says, grinning. “That she is. Well, better said, used to be.”
“Used to be?”
Andrey walks closer to me, gripping my chin between his fingers. “She ended up at the women’s shelter when my father – Big Boss – left her. Old, alone and sick. That version of her died, indeed.”
Shock goes through my brain in waves. I can’t freaking believe this. My knees go weak, and I sag in the grip of Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse. Andrey grins.
“You see, luckily for her,” he explains, “I caught wind of it and rushed back to her aide. But I got to her only after they’d performed excruciating experiments on her that my father had ordered. I’m sure he didn’t expect them to actually work out. He knew she would die.” He glances at his mother. “I never told him that the best part of her survived, you know. But he will find out soon enough, when you lead me to him.” He squares his shoulders, looming tall over me. “You know what the bastard said to me when I confronted him about the women’s shelter? He said Mother had lost her mind, and he’d kept her on calmatives at home long enough. But the truth was that he wanted to get rid of her because he’d fallen in love with another woman.” He brings his face so close to mine that his breath mists my cheek. His fingers lock so tightly on my chin, I’m afraid they’ll drill holes in it. “He was in love with you, but he didn’t want a divorce because that would have meant splitting the money.”
