I’m about to become a thief.
Raine
“Please be careful, Raine. If anything at all looks risky or not right just leave.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be very careful.”
My mother wrings her hands anxiously. “Yes, yes, I know you are always very careful, that’s your nature, but you will be extra careful tonight, won’t you?”
“I’ll be super careful, I promise.”
She nods distractedly. “Do you think your neckline’s a bit low?”
I laugh through the nervousness I feel. “If I dress like a nun, he’s hardly going to invite me back to his place, is he?”
My mother takes a deep breath. “Yes, yes, of course. You look lovely, but maybe you should wear a necklace or a scarf.”
I grasp my mother’s hand in mine. “Stop it, Mom. The whole damn world knows I’m going out on a date with him, he’s hardly going to try anything. Even if he catches me trying to steal his painting I don’t think he will report me to the police. It’ll spoil his big PR stunt.”
My mother chews her bottom lip nervously. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But you will be careful anyway, won’t you?”
“I will.” I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Now will you please stop making me nervous. It’s hard to play the part of a Jezebel when your stomach is churning.”
My mother cracks a smile, but her eyes fill with tears. She reaches out her hand and strokes my hair. “When your father left, I thought I would die. There were so many bills, so many debts. How was I going to bring up two girls on my own? But you know what. It has been a breeze because of you. You pulled your weight even when you were tiny.” Her lips tremble, tears pour down her face, and her voice breaks. “You cleaned, you polished, you ironed, you made breakfast. And as soon as you were old enough you babysat, you walked dogs. You did anything you could to help me. And right now I feel like the biggest failure because you are going out to sacrifice yourself for this family.”
“Oh, Mom. There is not a moment of the past that I would change. I did it because it gave me pleasure. I wanted to. I love you. Nothing is more important than you and Maddy.”
“What’s going on here?” Madison asks from the doorway.
“Nothing,” Mom says, wiping her tears.
“Are you crying?” Madison asks.
“Of course not,” Mom says.
“Dust in her eyes,” I say.
“Whoa! Raine. You look beautiful. Is the dress new?”
“Yeah. A friend gave it to me.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She comes forward and taking my hand swings me around. “You’re going to burn the billionaire’s eyes.”
“Of course not. No doubt he goes out with far more beautiful women all the time.”
Her thin, pale face breaks into a cheeky grin. “Then why did he bid a million dollars for you?”
“It is a publicity stunt.”
“That’s not what the papers say.”
I shake my head. “How many times have I told you not to read those nasty gossip pages?”
She laughs, the carefree laugh of a teenager. “Anyway, I think he is delicious. Are you going to stay overnight?”
“Madison Fillander,” Mom cries in a scandalized voice.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“Because I don’t do one-night stands.”
My sister’s eyes narrow. “Why are you so sure it’ll only be one night?”
“Because it’s a purchased charity dinner date and anyway he looks like someone who is spoilt for choice. Someone who arrogantly takes what he wants and doesn’t care about the consequences. He is not someone I want anything to do with.”
She pulls a considering face. “If you really believe that, why are you dressed so sexily?”
“Do you think Raine should wear a scarf?” Mom asks immediately.
“No,” both Madison and I reply in unison.
Then we both look at each other and laugh. At that moment, I know I am doing the right thing. I love my sister and there is nothing I would not do for her. If I have to steal a worthless painting from a billionaire so be it. If I have to go to prison and carry a prison record for the rest of my life so be it. Nothing is more important than keeping her alive. We are a unit. The three of us against the whole wide world. I feel tears burn at the backs of my eyes and blink them away.
There is no more nervousness.
This is just another job. I remember all those years ago when Mr. Jackson, whose daughter I was babysitting for, tried to kiss me. I just kneed him in the nuts. It hurt him so much that he couldn’t even scream. His eyes bulged so much I thought they were going to fall out of his face. He just clutched his groin and sank to the floor with gasps. After that he kept well away from me.
I learned quickly that night what worked for Mr. Jackson would work for any man. If I had to knee Konstantin Tsarnov tonight that is what I will do.
“Right. I should go,” I say.
“Good luck, honey,” Mom whispers.
“I won’t need it, Mom,” I say softly.
She frowns. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“And me. Only because I want the juicy details,” Madison says cheekily.
“You’re not waiting up for anybody, young lady,” Mom scolds sternly.
“For god’s sake, Mom. I’m not a baby.”
“On that note, I’m off,” I say and start moving towards the door.
“Have a great time, Raine,” my sister calls as I walk out of the door.
I turn back and see them both standing next to each other, my mother’s face anxious, and my sister’s face innocent and smiling, and again I know without any doubt that I’m doing the right thing for all of us.
Raine
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Whgn_iE5uc&ab_channel=SantanaVEVO
Smooth
* * *
The cab Catherine had ordered for me, stops outside the swanky restaurant where Konstantin’s secretary had arranged the date to take place. One doorman holds the cab door open while the other moves to open one of the double doors of the restaurant.
I thank them both and sweep confidently into the restaurant. The hostess comes to greet me. It is clear she immediately recognizes me from the many photos of me that have been splashed all over the press.
“Good evening, Miss Fillander.”
“Good evening,” I greet back.
“Mr. Tsarnov is having a drink at the bar. If you would like to follow me…” she trails off as her head dips almost in a bow.
I don’t think anyone has been that reverent to me in my whole life. “Thank you,” I murmur.
I follow her past a large dining room to a conservatory, where a private area has been cordoned off with gauzy curtains and plants. Konstantin Tsarnov is clearly no gentleman. He doesn’t stand as we approach. Instead he lifts his glass to his arrogant lips, and takes a sip of the colorless liquid in it.
“Your guest, Mr. Tsarnov,” she says deferentially.
He says nothing while a waiter seats me, then holds out a drinks menu for me. I don’t take the menu.
“Martini, dry,” I murmur.
“Very good,” he says and flaps away.
I swivel my eyes back to the man opposite me. I have to suppress a shiver. His eyes are a cold, strange mixture of gold and bluish green. Like a wolf’s. Wild and dangerous. He watches me expressionlessly. Being so close to him is like coming close to a power generator. I feel the hairs on my body stand with warning.
He puts his glass down on the table. “Hello, Raine.”
The way he says my name has a bizarre effect on me. And shockingly not the effect I could have ever Imagined. It makes me want to grind my pussy against his mouth. Jesus, what the fuck is the matter with me? I avert my gaze away from him. “This restaurant is nice.”
“Yes,” he agrees.
I bring my gaze back to him. “So… here we are.”
His mouth twists. “Here we are.”<
br />
I bite my lower lip. Is he deliberately making this awkward? “Do you come here often?”
Now I clearly see the sarcastic amusement in his eyes. “No.”
“Look, this is supposed to be a date. You’re required to give more than one word answers.”
“I’m Russian. We can’t help it. We’re stoic.”
“Why don’t you pretend I’m a billionaire and I have something you want to buy?”
The most interesting thing happens. His eyes flash and become almost liquid yellow. Wow! Fascinated, I stare at him intently.
“I’ve never met a billionaire who looks like you and has something I want to buy,” he drawls.
I shrug, as if flirting with Russian billionaires is something I do all the time. “Then pretend I’m fat and middle-aged and grey-haired.”
He laughs. A deep, sexy sound that touches me somewhere deep in my soul. How totally, utterly, complexly surprising. I try not to react.
“That Raine Fillander would be very, very difficult.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the truth or the PC version of the truth?”
“Give me the PC version?”
“You have the face of an angel and the body of a stripper.”
“That’s the PC version? Do I dare ask for the truth?”
He doesn’t smile. “You have a mouth made for blowjobs and a body ripe for fucking.”
I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Thank God, my martini arrives and I can busy myself with thanking the waiter and taking a sip. I swallow. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes. You?”
I put my glass down. “My day was weird. Thanks to your little PR stunt I’ve become a sort of celebrity. People keep recognizing me on the street.”
He looks surprised. “That’s unappealing?”
“Should I find that appealing?”
He shrugs. “I got the impression everybody wants to be famous these days no matter what for.”
I don’t for sure, but I have other things I want clarified. “Other than the blowjob mouth and fuckable body, why did you pick me?”
His eyes never leave me and his voice is flat. “Because except for you every one of the other girls looked directly at me. I’m curious why they were all looking and you weren’t.”
An icy finger drags down my spine and I try not to shiver as I pretend to shrug carelessly and tell the first of what will probably be a whole bunch of lies. “One of the girls mentioned you. Said she fancied you, which made the other girls interested. They googled you.” Then to stop any further discussion on this subject, I quickly raise my glass and say, “Here’s hoping your million is put to good use.”
He doesn’t raise his glass. “It already has.” His voice is quiet, his eyes expressionless as they watch me.
I take a sip and taste nothing. A waitress brings a small tray of four little appetizers. They look beautiful. I stare at them as she rattles off the spiel she has been told by the Chef. I pick the words glazed, tomato jelly, wild salmon, but everything else is a blur. She moves away. I feel as if I should go out, come back in, and start all over again. Somewhere along, I lost my way. He seems so unreachable, so foreign, so totally outside the kinds of men I usually deal with. How on earth can I make him invite me back to his house? I watch his hand, square and manly reach out. He picks up the ceramic spoon with the small bit of food loaded onto it. I follow his hand as it moves upwards. His mouth opens and the spoon slips into it.
He is hot. Really, really hot.
I swallow hard. I am completely out of my depth here. He is like nothing I have ever encountered before. Even though I dislike what he stands for, I can feel my body responding to him. Which is weird and uncomfortable. I don’t want to want him.
But…
Madison needs the money. Somehow, somehow, I have to find a way to get to him, to get beneath this impenetrable wall around him. I know he thinks I’m sexy, I just have to play up on that. I lick my bottom lip and I watch his gaze follow the movement of my tongue.
Yes, that’s more like it.
Konstantin
Something’s not right. She has a body made for sin and of course, the attraction is surprisingly potent, but there’s something else going on in the background. She is not just a girl who took part in a dinner date auction for charity.
She’s hiding something from me.
Emotions, many negative, flit through those beautiful, thickly lashed eyes. Then her teeth sink into that plump bottom lip and my attention is drawn to the holy sight like a moth to a flame. Intense arousal burns in my stomach as an image flashes into my mind. My cock buried in that swollen mouth. The image is vivid and raw and sexually jarring. Fuck!
My gaze drops down to her barely covered chest. Another image rushes into my head. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and my face buried between those full, heavy breasts.
My blood rushes away from my brain, and heads downward. My cock jumps into life, hard and greedy for a taste of Raine Fillander. I wonder how she would react if she knew how hot and hard I am for her.
I stare straight into her eyes. Her breathing hitches, and she drops her gaze hurriedly.
“I have a question,” I say softly.
She freezes, and it takes a few seconds before she is able to return her gaze to mine, a frigid smile across her face. She is nervous, very nervous about something.
“Yes?” she whispers.
“Did you know who I was before the auction?”
She shakes her head, and her voice is sure and somewhat relieved. “No.”
“So why aren’t you curious like all the other girls?”
Hot color runs up her creamy neck and turns her cheeks rosy. “I’d already done my own research,” she answers softly.
“And you don’t like what you found?” I ask, amused.
“Something like that,” she admits.
“Which part doesn’t suit you?”
She shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t like what you stand for.”
“Ah, a socialist. You don’t like insatiable billionaires as a principle.”
She draws her shoulders back, and I see angry fire come into her sapphire eyes. They become stormy with emotion. It’s as if someone just tipped a wild leopard onto the chair in front of me. I stare at her with fascination. I’d love to see those eyes when she comes.
“I’m not a socialist,” she says tightly, “but yes, I detest billionaires who lie, cheat and steal on their way to the top, then think they can make it alright by making a tax deductible million to a children’s hospital.”
Finally, she is not pretending, but if she hates cheating, lying, stealing billionaires who make donations for all the wrong reasons, why is she here dressed to kill? I take a sip of my vodka as I weigh my options. I’d very much like to fuck the living daylights out of her, but I’m also aware there is something else going on under the surface. I decide to call her bluff.
“You know, you don’t have to stay. I’m quite happy to dine on my own.”
With that the marvelous wildfire is instantly extinguished, and to my surprise, a mixture of fear and some other emotion takes its place.
Raine
Panic floods my body. Jesus, what the hell am I doing? This is not a date where I am free to sprout my nonsense about how unfair the world is! I’m here to save Madison. I drop my gaze quickly to the shiny surface of the table so I can regroup. I let my dislike of his status cloud my judgment, but I won’t make the same mistake again. When I look up, my face is schooled into apologetic lines.
“I’m sorry. That is not fair. I don’t know anything about you, or how you made your money. No matter what your reasons are for dropping a million on this dinner, it is for a good cause and the least I can do is fulfil my end of the bargain and be an interesting dinner companion.” I lean back and give him my best smile. “Can we start again?”
His expression remains unreadable, his voice indifferent. “Sure.”
The sheer relief almo
st makes me lean forward and thank him, but I stop myself in time. That would be suspicious. Fearful that there could be an awkward silence, I throw out the first question that comes into my head. “Do you ever go back to Russia?”
“Yes, I have many business interests there.”
Not much to go on, but at least it isn’t a one-word answer. “I’ve seen pictures of Russia, but I’ve never been.”
“Of course you haven’t. You’re American.”
I feel my back start to straighten and force my voice to be kinder. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t Americans taught to fear the big Russian bear behind the iron curtain?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. There are even a couple of Russian kids in my school.”
Suddenly, he looks bored. “If you are finished with your aperitif, perhaps we can head over to our table.”
“Yes, I’m finished,” I mumble, hoping I haven’t blown it. It’s all gone so wrong.
He lifts a finger and a waiter rushes over. “My usual table?”
“Yes, Mr. Tsarnov,” the man says obsequiously, as he bows and leads the way. Clearly, Mr. Tsarnov is a heavy tipper.
Konstantin stands as I do, and I see that he is very much taller than me. At least a foot and I’m wearing high heels. We walk towards the restaurant. I can smell his aftershave. Woody and expensive. And I can feel the raw power coming from his body.
We are seated at a table screened off from everyone else. I can see now what Catherine meant when she said he guarded his privacy jealously.
The next few minutes are filled with ordering our food. I am too nervous to eat, but I order a starter and a main course. Then the waiters leave and we are alone once more and my mind goes blank. All the subjects that Catherine had told me would be of interest to him are gone from my mind.
“Tell me about you,” he invites suddenly.
The relief is palpable. “What would you like to know?”
He shrugs. “Anything you want to tell a date that is going nowhere.”
The Russian Billionaire: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 3
