The Double

by Newbury, Helena

  By the end of it I was a limp, red-faced wreck, drunk on endorphins. All I could do was beg him. “Please,” I moaned, beyond shame. “Please f—fuck me.”

  He pushed himself effortlessly back so that he could look at me and I saw the victory in his eyes. But not victory over me. Victory over himself, that he hadn’t lost control, hadn’t gotten...involved. He would fuck me, he’d allow himself this release, but it would still be on his terms. It was so sad...but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed him more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.

  “Please,” I said again.

  He froze. His look of victory faded. It was the same look he’d given me in the garden. I thought I saw a flicker of blue in all that merciless gray, a softening...and then his eyes lit up, hotter and harder than I’d ever seen them. He suddenly grabbed for his belt buckle, shoving the heavy leather through the loops. He tore at his suit pants, but a button on the fly caught, foiling him—

  There was a clatter as the button went skittering across the tiles. Then he rammed his pants and shorts down his thighs and—

  I drew in my breath. It was the first time I’d seen it. Not just long but thick, with a beautiful, purple-pink head and a tan shaft. I remembered what he’d said on the phone, about Christina’s first time with him: You weren’t sure you could take me, but you did…. I gulped. I suddenly knew exactly how she’d felt. “Go slow,” I said, and it came out in a kind of throaty whisper, half nervous and half lusty.

  The sound of that excited him even more. I swore I saw his cock twitch and strain. But he gave a tiny nod as he brandished it in his hand, bringing the head of it between my spread thighs and ah! just nuzzling it against my folds. God, I was soaking…

  A ripple of raw need ran through me. I’d closed my eyes for a second but now I opened them and stared up at him. He was glaring down at me and not with that masterful, dominant glare of power. This was fury. Outrage, at being out of control. How have you made me do this?

  I had no answer.

  His eyes hardened. You asked for this. And his hips pushed forward….

  Despite his anger, he did go slow. The silken head of him spread me, spread me, stretched me—and then he was plunging deep into me and both of us cried out together at how good it felt. I panted and looked down at the spot where we joined. He was still fully dressed, save for the pants shoved down around his thighs, and I was not just naked but stripped, my lingerie untied and strewn around me, and tied to the bed with black ribbons…. There was something about the imbalance of that that was wrong and yet so very right. It set off a depth-charge of heat right in my core.

  He began to thrust: slow, powerful strokes that drove him a little further into me each time. My breathing tightened and I moaned as I felt myself slowly filled.

  He lowered himself onto his forearms, hulking over me, but careful not to hurt me, staring into my eyes for any sign of pain. My moans became low, guttural groans as he slid deeper, deeper, hot and hard and throbbing against my satiny walls….

  He groaned as he finally rooted himself inside me and our groins kissed together. Each throb of his cock sent a new wave of pleasure rippling through me. He cursed in Russian and then, “God... my shlyukha, you feel amazing.” He leaned down and kissed me once, tenderly.

  Then he shook his head and his face darkened. He kissed me again, open-mouthed and aggressive, a kiss that plunged deep and took what it wanted. He wanted this to be a battle so that he could win. He wanted this to be just fucking, so that it meant nothing.

  He began to fuck me, fast and hard, and it was amazing: the silken stretch of him, the hot, steely plunge of him and the ache as he withdrew. He was brutal and hard, his hips slamming into me, but it felt so good, each thrust compressing the pleasure and making it brighter and hotter. God, wasn’t this every guilty fantasy I’d ever had about him, even if I hadn’t admitted it at the time? Naked and tied, helpless under him as he had his way with me?

  I gazed up at him, my eyes hooded and heavy with pleasure. God, the wonderful size of him, the power of that chest and those huge shoulders, those cold gray eyes glowering down at me…. And then it got even better. I saw something moving in the gloom behind him and made out a gold-framed mirror, over by the door. I could see his reflection, the tan globes of his ass pounding between my thighs. Oh God….

  He took his weight on his elbows so that he could fill his hands with my breasts, his thumbs rubbing over my slickened nipples. I cried out, the pleasure arcing down to my groin and making it twist and coil. His hips were a blur, now, pounding me. He was determined to fuck me into submission, to make me come long before he did, so he stayed in control.

  And I knew he’d win. Because what could I do? I couldn’t wrap my arms around him and draw him close, or hook my legs around him, or even run my fingers through his hair. I suddenly understood why he’d tied me up.

  All I could do, as the pleasure tightened and tightened and became a glowing bomb that I couldn’t contain was...look up at him. Look up into those cold, gray eyes as he pounded and pounded and know what I’d seen there, know that somewhere inside there was another man….

  He glared down at me, furious. He pumped me harder, faster, but I felt his strokes falter as he struggled for control—

  I cried out as the orgasm ripped through me, my whole body jerking in its bonds. And as I spasmed and clenched around him, I heard him growl. I looked up and for a second I saw that tiny hint of blue in his eyes….

  He slammed forward and buried himself in me just before he erupted in long, hot jets.

  We lay there for long seconds, riding out the storm we’d created. When I managed to focus on his face, he was staring down at me with utter shock. How did you do that?

  I just stared back at him. I couldn’t answer. Because the truth was, right at the moment he’d lost control, I’d forgotten all about being Christina...and I was just being me.

  34

  Hailey

  I LAY IN THE DARKNESS, watching the silhouette of his body as he breathed. I had to be sure he was asleep.

  My body was still warm and pleasantly achy from the sex. It should have been a happy time, a time for cuddling and closeness. But closeness wasn’t allowed, with Konstantin: just as before, once we’d finished downstairs, he’d brought me up here, we’d shared a vodka nightcap, and he’d laid down on the opposite side of the bed.

  What the hell had happened down in the dungeon? I’d glimpsed that other man, the one he tried so hard to hide. A man I really liked.

  And now—my stomach knotted—I was going to betray him.

  I counted thirty minutes in my head and then very carefully slid out of the bed and crept around the room. He didn’t snore so there was no way to be certain he was out. As I picked up his laptop and walked over to him, I held my breath. I was half-expecting to see him staring right at me.

  But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see his eyes were closed. The covers were around his waist, one arm on top of them, the moonlight making him into a silent, marble statue.

  I knelt down on the floor next to him, carefully opened the laptop and—

  Shit! The glow from the screen lit up the room like I’d turned on a lamp. It blasted directly into Konstantin’s face and he muttered something.

  I slammed the lid almost closed and turned it away, heart racing. I knelt there staring at him, praying….

  He didn’t wake. I opened the laptop again, this time facing away from him, cranked the screen brightness right down, and then turned it back. It asked for his hardware key.

  I reached for his hand, my own hand shaking. This part seemed like more of a violation than actually looking at his secrets, somehow. The ring was scratched and even chipped in places, as if it had been through at least one war. Glued to the top of the ring, like a high-tech jewel, was the strip of coded electronics he used to unlock the laptop. It was tiny, maybe half the size of a grain of rice. He could have kept it on a card in his wallet or had it made into a shiny, new r
ing. Why had he chosen to put it on this thing that looked like it came from an antique store?

  I just stared at him for a moment in the glow of the screen. In sleep, he was strangely vulnerable: that hard upper lip relaxed just a little and his frown disappeared. How can I do this? This is wrong!

  Wrong?! He’s the enemy! If I didn’t find the evidence to bring him down, he would trigger a gang war. All those innocent lives, lost….

  I reached for his hand. As soon as my fingertips brushed him, I caught my breath. Every time he’d touched me ran through my head on fast-forward, each one searing hot in my chest before sinking down, heavy and fluttery, to my groin.

  I gently lifted his hand and brought the ring to the laptop. As soon as metal touched metal, the laptop unlocked and I was looking at his email.

  I carefully put his hand back down and got back into bed, throwing nervous glances at him the whole time. If he woke and saw me with his laptop there’d be no way to explain, no excuse I could come up with. Whatever his feelings for me, he’d kill me.

  I hunkered there in the darkness for a half hour, sifting through his emails and….

  Nothing. Not a damn thing about any big new deal, or paying someone a quarter of a million in cash. My shoulders slumped and I let a long, silent sigh.

  Then the guilt hit me. Was I relieved? I thought of what Carrie had said, just before I went undercover. Had I forgotten who I was? My mission was to bring him down.

  I searched harder, digging through archived mail, and finally found a hidden folder where everything between Konstantin and one anonymous person had been filtered. I knew straight away I’d found it. This was the man I’d met at the mall.

  The conversation started a month ago. Konstantin told the man he had a job that needed doing. There were no details, just a link to a picture hosted on some website, and when I clicked on it the picture had long since been deleted.

  The man said he’d take the job for $250,000. I can do it any week day. 1pm seems to be the best time. But it will need a particular tool - perhaps with your contacts, you could help me acquire it? Again, there was a link to a picture and again, it had been deleted. Dammit! But I had to give them credit, it was a clever system - even if their emails were intercepted, the really important stuff was still hidden.

  Konstantin replied saying yes, he could get the “tool.” And that he’d send a woman to deliver the money. “It’ll be in a box wrapped in red gift wrap. Don’t discuss things with her, she’s just the courier.”

  Thank God I hadn’t asked Konstantin about the money. I’d been right, he’d kept Christina strictly need-to-know.

  The exchange ended with the date for the job being set as the 18th October, with Konstantin agreeing to send the “tool” the guy needed on the night of the 15th. I shut the laptop down, slipped out of bed and put it back where I’d found it, then got back between the covers.

  And it was over. I’d done it! I’d got a lot more information on when this thing was happening, even if we still didn’t know what the job was. Carrie would be happy. And I’d gotten away with it: Konstantin hadn’t woken up. I knew I should be elated or at least relieved.

  But all I felt was bad.

  I stared at Konstantin’s back and thought of him living here in the mansion by himself, with the appearance of a relationship but no actual warmth or love. Making these plans alone, not trusting even Christina enough to share them with her. If I didn’t bring him down, he’d take over the entire city..., and when that day came, he’d have no one to share the victory with. It was heartbreaking. I’d never met anyone so utterly isolated. What the hell happened to him?

  I fought the urge to reach out and touch him.

  He’s evil. He’s the enemy.

  So why did betraying him feel so wrong?

  35

  Hailey

  OVER THE NEXT WEEK, life in the mansion became...normal.

  The expensive dresses and even the fancy lingerie started to feel routine. I got faster at doing my hair and make-up, too. And I managed to solve the problem of Christina’s heels not fitting.

  “Don’t you already have a pair just like that?” muttered Konstantin as I returned from a shopping trip and he saw the shoes I’d bought.

  I gave a theatrical sigh. “Men always say that. They’re completely different!”

  He grabbed my hand, pulled me close and gave me a long, deep kiss, one hand roving down my back to grab my ass. When he drew back, he stared at me, one big finger combing through my hair as his eyes searched mine. I thought I could see...a yearning. A wish that we had a real relationship, that we could banter like that all the time. And then he shook his head and stomped off downstairs to his study.

  And I went to my closet and carefully replaced a pair of black heels with the identical pair I’d just bought in my size.

  There was a full week to go until the night of the 15th, when Konstantin would deliver the “tool” for the job, so in the meantime Carrie told me to go back to watching, listening, and gaining his trust. Every night, I’d dress in lingerie for him and meet him down in the dungeon. The sex was like nothing I’d ever experienced. He fucked me standing up, my wrists manacled to the wall above my head. He fucked me bent over a bench, his hands filled with my breasts. He fucked me on my knees on the bed with my hands tied behind me and my cheek pressed to the sheets, grunting and cursing and whispering that I was his slutskya. I was discovering a side of myself I hadn’t known existed and he was enjoying teaching me.

  Afterwards, there was never any cuddling or intimacy. But each night, I could see him having to work a little harder to maintain the distance, to shut me out and turn away from me in the bed. Soon, it started to feel like every look, every touch outside of the dungeon was charged, that any of them could be the final straw. And every time it happened, my chest tightened because...I wanted it. I wanted things to be deeper, to be real.

  Even though I knew that was wrong, that I shouldn’t want a man like him to feel something for me.

  Even though I knew it would complicate things, that it was best for the mission if things stayed clinical and distant.

  Even though I knew it was crazy to want it to be real when real was the one thing I couldn’t give him.

  * * *

  I was shopping for dresses when Calahan called on the earpiece. “Your mom left a message.” He hesitated and I could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “Her medical bills are higher than she figured, this month,” said Calahan. “She’s short.”

  I cursed under my breath. I didn’t ever have to worry about money, with Konstantin. As well as the bottomless credit card, he’d press a wad of bills into my hand every time I went shopping. I didn’t even need the money and meanwhile, my mom was struggling to stay afloat and Hailey’s account was empty. I pulled today’s wad from my purse flicked through it. There must be a thousand dollars here.

  “Just in case you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” said Calahan, “don’t. I’m serious.” He lowered his voice. “You think the FBI wouldn’t find out? Taking criminal assets and using them to pay your family’s bills? That could be jail time for you and your mom.”

  I wanted to scream. I knew he was right but—

  “I’ll see what I can scrape together,” said Calahan. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  God, he was so great. But I knew he didn’t have any more money than I did, and this was my responsibility, and instead of looking after my mom I was living this fantasy, luxury life buying dresses—

  “Wait,” I said. “There’s no rule saying I can’t choose where to shop, right?”

  * * *

  The guard who was driving me looked around at the shabby storefronts. “You sure you want to go shopping here, Miss Rogan? I can have you back in Manhattan in no time.”

  “This is a very very bad idea,” said Calahan in my ear.

  “I’m sure,” I said firmly, and climbed out of the car, cinching my coat tight against the cold wind. And
then I was pushing open the door to my mom’s store and—

  Oh God, she looked so thin! It had only been a few weeks...no, God, longer than that, I hadn’t been able to see her since the surgery. She must think I’ve abandoned her! I took two running steps forward, ready to wrap her into my arms.

  My mom looked up, startled. “Can I help you?”

  I came to a faltering stop. I’d known she wouldn’t recognize me, but the reality was nothing like I’d imagined. The reality was horrible. When I’d seen her, I’d had that warm glow you always get when you see family...but now I could feel it sputtering and dying, going black and cold.

  I wasn’t family. Not anymore.

  “I’m looking for a dress,” I managed.

  My mom blinked. I did look as if I’d walked into the wrong store. Christina’s clothes were about three times the price of anything in my mom’s store and were a lot more revealing. But my mom didn’t let it throw her. “Well, alright then. For an occasion? For every day?”

  And then she broke off and coughed. A nasty, rib-shaking cough that she hadn’t had, the last time I’d spoken to her.

  “Both,” I said, my voice strained. “Like, five or six dresses for parties. And at least that many for every day.”

  My mom stared at me. “Well, okay! Let’s get you sorted out.” And she led me into the depths of the racks.

  An hour later, I’d filled the trunk of the car with seventeen dresses. As I finished paying with Konstantin’s credit card, I was feeling victorious.

  Then my mom doubled over, coughing, and couldn’t stop.

  I ran forward, but she waved me back, embarrassed. “I’ll be fine,” she wheezed between coughing fits. But she wasn’t.