The Double

by Newbury, Helena

  THE MAN WAS HEAVY, but I could have stood there holding him all night. The pain was thundering through my veins, stronger than it had been in years. I could see the faces of the people Ralavich had taken from me. I could feel the bite of the icy water. It made me strong, made me sure of what I had to do.

  And then she was there, her arms wrapped around my bicep, tugging my arm down, trying to bring the guy back onto the roof. “Stop!” she was yelling. “Please!”

  I blinked at her. Just for a second, I didn’t recognize her. It was Christina’s face, but the horror in her eyes at what I was about to do... that wasn’t Christina at all. Christina would have understood me killing him, maybe even urged me on. But this woman….

  She thought I was better than that.

  I scowled. I had to kill him. Anything else would be weak. If she’d forgotten what I was, in her time in hospital, she’d soon remember. As soon as I opened my hand and—

  “Please!” she begged again.

  My hand twitched. The man’s sweaty neck slipped in my fingers and Christina caught her breath….

  ...but I couldn’t seem to open my hand all the way. I could see the pain in Christina’s eyes. The hurt I’d cause if I did it. And I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. Weak. Weak, weak, weak….

  I turned and hurled the guy back onto the roof. He rolled to a stop, bruised and battered...but alive.

  My guards were well disciplined. They surrounded the man and looked to me for orders as if nothing had happened. But I could see a few of them casting furtive glances at Christina, and at each other. Did she really just…?

  I had to re-establish control. “Take him!” I snapped. “Put him out of commission but don’t kill him. Wait for us downstairs.”

  They grabbed the man and ran off. When the rooftop was empty except for Christina and me, I marched over to her, furious. “What’s the matter with you? You can never go against me in front of my men!”

  She nodded meekly, her eyes on the floor. God, she suddenly looked so small, so scared. And yet she’d stood up to me when I was in a blind rage. Even my guards wouldn’t dare do that. I had to admire her bravery... and that made me start to soften.

  I tried to coax the anger back. “You never cared what I did before!”

  She looked up at me, eyes huge. “I—I know, but….” She flung her arms out, helpless. I can’t explain.

  And I couldn’t explain what was happening to me. The more I looked down into those big, innocent eyes, the more I felt my control slipping away. Down in the dungeon, her goodness had fired my lust. But now, up here, it was triggering something else in me, something that lifted in my chest. I couldn’t feel that. Not since that day all hope died. But it was real, just as real as the pain. And then I saw that she was shivering. God, she must be freezing. And I couldn’t give her my jacket, it was thirty stories down, with one of my men. I gave one last sigh, furious with myself for being weak... and then I grabbed her and pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her. Her breasts squashed against my chest, but for once, it wasn’t about wanting to fuck her. I felt protective. Tender. Weak.

  I shook my head. “Damn you, golub,” I muttered.

  26

  Hailey

  WHEN WE GOT HOME, Konstantin headed straight up the stairs to our bedroom. My heart started thumping in my chest, speeding up with each stair we climbed. This was it: he’d want to continue what we’d started down in the dungeon.

  The bedroom had an adjoining bathroom for each of us. He disappeared into his and I heard the shower turn on. I raced into mine and did the same, washing the smell of smoke from my hair. Then I rushed into the closet in a towel and tried to figure out what to wear. What the hell did Christina wear for bed? Lingerie? Just panties? Nothing at all? In the end, I went for panties, but kept the towel wrapped around myself, too self-conscious to be topless straight away.

  When I walked back into the bedroom, Konstantin was sitting on the bed, booting up his laptop, a towel wrapped around his waist. God, he looked incredible, the tan of his skin standing out against the soft white towel, droplets of water falling from his wet hair and leaving wet trails as they slid down his chest and abs. As I watched, he made a fist and pressed his ring to a metal plate on the edge of the laptop. I saw the screen change as it finished booting and his email appeared. His ring is the hardware key!

  I sat awkwardly on the corner of the bed while he dealt with his work. What was their normal routine? Did Christina just wait for him? Did she do her own thing? He kept throwing glances my way and each time he looked, his gaze was a little more heated. I felt the warmth start to ripple down my body and my breathing went tight.

  He suddenly snapped the laptop shut and strode over to a bureau. I jumped up and met him there, breathless and expectant, but still uncertain of the routine. Would he grab me? Kiss me? Just hurl me on the bed?

  He opened the bureau and took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses, then poured us both a shot. What? They drank before sex? I looked uncertainly at my glass: I’ve never been much of a drinker. But he knocked his back and I did the same, feeling it burn all the way down my throat and then slam into my brain, making me reel.

  He took the glass from my fingers and put it down. I saw his gaze track down over my face, my neck...down to my breasts. I looked down. The towel must have slipped a little when I jumped up from the bed because the top of it was dangerously low: another inch and you’d be able to see my nipples. When I looked up again, he was glaring at me. I was completely confused. Downstairs in the dungeon, he’d had me strip naked. Why would seeing some cleavage annoy him now?

  He stepped closer. One big hand grabbed the towel at the front and twisted, bunching it, as if about to pull it off. He drew in a shuddering breath, every muscle in that magnificent chest going hard. What’s the matter? Why is he hesitating?

  And then he closed his eyes and said, “Goodnight, Christina.”

  And he turned and stalked off towards the bed. I was left standing there, hurt. Doesn’t he want me? Part of me was shocked by how fast things had changed: just hours ago, I’d been worried that he’d want to sleep with me. Now, I was worried that he didn’t.

  He climbed into the huge bed...and lay down on his side, right at the very edge, his back turned to me.

  And suddenly I understood.

  Sex was for the dungeon. All that lust was carefully contained and locked in a box and he only let it out down there, where he could be in absolute control. Because if he had sex with me here, in a bedroom, if we acted like a normal couple….

  Then he might start to feel something for me.

  That’s why he was annoyed when my towel started to slip. He’d thought I was tempting him, and he’d had to fight with himself not to whip the towel off me and fuck me. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me. He wanted me too much.

  I slowly climbed into bed and lay down on the edge furthest from him, just as Christina would have done. But I faced towards him so that I was staring at his muscled back. It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen. To sleep alone is horrible. But to deliberately sleep alone when you’re with someone, to deny yourself not just sex but closeness.... All I wanted was to press myself against his back and cuddle him, to ease the pain I’d seen on the rooftop.

  It wasn’t just me. I could see the tension in his back, feel the need rolling off him in waves. He wanted to turn around and hold me. And I wanted him to because... being held by him would make me feel safe. I knew it made no sense: I knew how dangerous he was and what he’d do to me if he found out I was FBI. But when he’d wrapped me in his arms on the rooftop, I’d felt like nothing bad could touch me and I needed to feel that again.

  But he stayed there, an immovable rock. And so I stayed where I was, four feet and a thousand miles away.

  When I was sure he was asleep, I slid across the bed and sat looking down at him. Even in sleep, his face was tense. I brushed the hair back from his forehead and gazed at his scar: a nasty, jagged thing that l
ed up under his hairline. What the hell had happened to him? What could make anyone shut themselves off so completely from anything that might make him feel?

  One thing I knew without any doubt: Christina had been telling the truth about not loving him, and he hadn’t loved her, either. Because if they’d had any feelings for each other at all, the arrangement wouldn’t have worked. They would have snapped within days and grabbed each other.

  Konstantin had found the one person in the world who could handle a relationship without emotions. Christina had been perfect for him.

  The problem was... I wasn’t Christina.

  27

  Konstantin

  I THRASHED UPWARDS through black water, my hands clawing at ice that wouldn’t give... and woke disoriented and panting, sucking in the warm, dry air of the bedroom until the ache in my chest went away.

  The dreams were back. That made no sense. They should have gone again, now that Christina was back.

  I turned to look at her. She was still asleep, lying sprawled on her back, her arms up beside her head, open and trusting as a child. That was different, too. Before the accident, she’d always gone to sleep curled up on her side, like me, and stayed turned away from me until morning.

  I allowed myself a moment to stare at her, knowing it was weak. God, she was beautiful. More beautiful, since she came back to me. The face was the same but there was an openness to her. As if she no longer had any secrets from me.

  I slid out of bed. It was still early and I didn’t want to fire up the shower and wake her so I threw on a robe and marched out into the hallway, heading for my study. I almost walked into Victoria, Christina’s young, blonde maid, carrying an armful of dresses. “All Miss Rogan’s clothes from Milan are pressed and ready, Sir,” she told me. “Is she awake? Can I go and hang them for her?”

  She was smiling. Victoria never smiled, not when she was anywhere near our bedroom. Christina had always been viciously cruel to her: nothing was ever good enough or quick enough and she’d reduced the poor girl to tears many times. I think it was jealousy, because Victoria was pretty.

  And yet now Victoria actually seemed happy. I took the dresses from her and said I’d pass them on, then slipped quietly back inside our room and stared at Christina again.

  She’d changed. She’d become gentler, kinder, more innocent.

  And what was unsettling was how much I liked it.

  28

  Hailey

  I WOKE, rolled onto my side, and groped around blindly. Where are my glasses?

  “What are you looking for?” asked a Russian voice that vibrated right down my spine.

  I sat bolt upright, the memories landsliding down on top of me. The mission. The mansion. My new face. Konstantin.

  He was standing next to the bed, wrapped in a soft white robe that set off his tan. The inner edges of that strong chest were visible through the vee in the front and all I wanted to do was run over to him and push up against him like a cat, sliding my head inside his robe and resting it against that hard, warm muscle. God, what’s happening to me?

  There was a robe for me, too, and we wore them down to the dining room for breakfast. I stared at the flawless white tablecloth and gleaming silver cutlery, at the waiter who stood ready to take our orders. We can order anything we like?! My usual breakfast was coffee and an energy bar, eaten at my desk.

  Konstantin ordered eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. I was about to do the same when I realized I had no idea what Christina normally ate.

  To my relief, the chef asked, “Your usual, Miss Rogan?”

  I nodded in relief. “Yes, please.”

  He blinked and cocked his head, as if me saying please was a surprise, and then hurried away.

  A waiter brought Konstantin The New York Times and he shook it out and disappeared behind it. Papers at breakfast: awesome. I’m a news junkie and I hadn’t caught up in days—

  The waiter handed me a glossy fashion magazine. Oh.

  Konstantin’s breakfast arrived: a groaning plate loaded with at least four eggs, a teetering stack of bacon, a pile of thick sausages and half a loaf of toast. My mouth started to water.

  Then the waiter set a smoothie in front of me. Not above my place setting, where a drink would go. Right where the plate would be. That was my breakfast.

  And it was green. Not the bright, cheerful green of apples and kiwi fruit and other tasty things. An ominous gray-green halfway between avocado and kale.

  I looked up at the waiter, thinking maybe he was messing with me. But he wasn’t smiling: in fact, he looked scared. “It’s just how you like it, miss,” he reassured me. When I just stared at him, he started to go pale and I had to quickly smile to make him relax. God, were all the staff terrified of me?

  I took a sip. God, it was disgusting, thick and gloopy and I could taste broccoli and fish oil and something bitter and pungent that could have been Brussel sprouts. I looked up at the waiter. “It’s perfect, thank you,” I managed.

  “I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” muttered Konstantin from behind his paper.

  I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible so I gulped it down and was finished long before him. I climbed the stairs towards our bedroom, full of vitamins, but in desperate need of something to wash the taste away.

  But on the second floor, I stopped. Konstantin’s study was right there. I bit my lip. I still had a mission. And I knew he’d be safely downstairs for at least a few minutes.

  I sneaked inside. The room must have been a bedroom originally because a door led off it to a small bathroom. The map on the wall was of New York, with neighborhoods color-coded to show who controlled them. Right in the middle of Konstantin’s territory were three red spots, like drops of blood, showing where Ralavich had set fires the night before. I frowned at them. Why had Ralavich done it? He couldn’t possibly hope to take over those neighborhoods, let alone hold them: Konstantin was far too powerful. So what did Ralavich hope to gain by scaring the people who lived there?

  I searched the drawers of Konstantin’s desk, but they were empty and the desk itself was clear. He must lock everything in the safe every night.

  I crept over and took a look at it. The thing was ancient—why were so many things in the house so old? But it was still sturdy enough: there was no way of getting it open without the combination. I had my phone in the pocket of my robe so I snapped a quick photo of the door and sent it to Calahan: maybe he could help.

  Then I heard the stairs creak. Shit! I raced out onto the landing and turned towards the next flight of stairs...but it was too late. Konstantin rounded the corner and saw me.

  His mood changed in a heartbeat. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

  I took a faltering step back. “Nothing! Going upstairs!”

  He stalked over to me and frowned suspiciously at the door to his study. “Were you in there?”

  I backed up again. “No! Of course not!”

  He took a step towards me. I shrank back against what I thought was the wall. But my ass hit something smooth and polished and when I put my hand behind me to steady myself, it hit only air. I screamed and flailed as I tipped over the banister—

  He grabbed the front of my robe and jerked me forward to safety. I slammed into his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel my heart pounding at how close I’d come...and I could feel his heart hammering as well, at the shock of nearly losing me.

  When he gently pushed me back, all the anger had gone out of him. He didn’t say sorry, but I could see the guilt on his face. His eyes had a protective gleam that made me go weak inside and he gripped my wrists like he didn’t ever want to let me go. “Don’t go in my study,” he said gently. “Okay?”

  I nodded quickly, too awash with adrenaline to speak.

  He disappeared into his study and closed the door and I climbed the stairs to our bedroom on shaking legs. If he’d finished breakfast a few seconds earlier... if he’d seen me taking a photo of th
e safe….

  In the bedroom, I drank a tall glass of water and leaned against the wall while I tried to slow my breathing.

  “You okay?” said Calahan’s voice in my ear.

  I sat down heavily at the dressing table, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Yes,” I lied.

  What I didn’t want to say was, in that moment when he’d nearly caught me, I hadn’t just been scared. I’d felt...bad. Just for a fleeting second, I’d felt disloyal for betraying him.

  “Tell me about Ralavich,” I said. I started to do my make-up as we talked.

  “He’s very. Bad. News. Lots of drugs. Some guns. But his specialty is brothels in St. Petersburg that...they aren’t normal brothels. The women are all trafficked and the men, they pay to….” Calahan’s seen a lot of evil, in his time. I knew this must be something awful, for it to be so difficult for him to say. “They call them rape clubs,” he managed at last, his voice shaking with anger and disgust.

  “And now he’s trying to expand into America,” I said, my voice tight. “He wants to bring that here. But how could he possibly hope to take on Konstantin?”

  Carrie came on the line. “Hailey, the mission is Konstantin.”

  I bit my lip. “But if you’d seen what Ralavich did...he was happy to burn families in their homes, just to make a statement. I feel like he’s the real danger. Konstantin...people respect him. He protects them. They’re not the same—”

  “All these men are the same,” said Carrie sharply. Then, more gently. “Hailey, it’s important not to get drawn in.”

  I flushed. Was that what was happening? Was my judgment sliding, because I was attracted to him? “Yes ma’am,” I said, chastened. But it still felt wrong.

  I told them about the safe and they said they’d show the photo to the FBI’s technical team. Then I finished off my make-up and did my hair. I was gradually getting faster at it, but I was also realizing it’s a lot easier to look glamorous when you don’t have a job to rush off to each morning.