I smile. “Well, since this relationship is going nowhere, I guess I don’t have to pretend or impress and I can tell you the things I’d never dream of telling a real date.”
“Yes, the lure of the one-night stand,” he drawls.
“Do you think we’ll end up in bed?”
His eyes glitter with interest. “Do you want to?”
“Maybe. Depends on how our… date goes.”
An unfathomable expression crosses his face. “What needs to happen for you to end up in my bed?”
The words I never intended to utter tumble out of me. “Make me laugh. Make me understand I’m not going to feel like a slut in the morning.”
He frowns. “Why would you feel like a slut in the morning?”
“I don’t know. The only time I ever had a one-night stand I felt terrible. I left before he woke up because I couldn’t bear it if he was indifferent.”
He leans forward, his expression intense and curious, as if I am a species that is completely alien to him, and he’s really trying hard to understand me. “Why would you care what he thinks?”
His question makes me forget to be a seductive nymph and I answer honestly. “I don’t know and can’t explain why, but it could be my conservative background. I can never just let my hair down, my brain is always thinking in the background. One of my friends once slept with a celebrity. She told me it was great, really fun. In the morning, they had breakfast in bed, she took selfies with him, and then she left. She has no regrets at all. In fact, she even considers it one of those events she will remember with pleasure and fondness when she is an old grandmother. Me, I can never do that. I don’t like the idea of being a notch on someone’s bedpost. I guess, you have hundreds of women lining up to have sex with you, huh? You have fun with them, then never give them a second thought.”
“That’s right. I tend to go for women like your friend. They are under no illusions. They take their pleasure and they leave.” He leans back. “Whenever I make the mistake of picking women like you, it is always messy.”
Shit! Why is it every avenue I go down takes me to a dead end? I look deep into his eyes, and whisper, “Perhaps tonight I want to be a woman who is under no illusions.”
His eyes narrow with speculation. “Why?”
After a few false starts, I suddenly see the light at the end of the tunnel. If I play my cards right I can end up in his house as another one-night stand, then pretend to change my mind because of strongly held principles once I’ve switched the painting. It doesn’t feel good, but it would hardly be the end of the world for him. A guy like him must have a black book full of names.
I shrug gently and smile seductively. “Because everything about you is wrong for me, and that surely must make you the perfect kind of guy to have a one-night stand with.”
Konstantin
Now I know for sure something is up. I play along partly because I’m curious as to where this is going, and partly because I can’t help myself. The longer I spend with her, the more I want to fuck her. I watch as she cuts a tiny piece of salmon and slips it into her irresistible mouth.
“How did you come to be part of the auction?”
She looks down at her plate and swallows hard, as if it’s not the smallest piece of salmon one could possible imagine putting into one’s mouth, but a whole fucking frog.
Then she looks up and smiles. “I was bartending at a party and a woman from the agency that was supplying the dates asked if I wanted to be one of the dates.”
“Hmm… you did it for charity, of course. No payment.”
Her face becomes bright red, but she doesn’t look away, and oddly manages to sound sincere. “Charity, obviously.”
Then she changes the subject quickly, which makes me think charity, obviously is a half-truth.
“I saw when I researched you that you are very interested in horses,” she murmurs, batting her eyelashes.
I try to keep my amusement from showing. Clearly, she doesn’t flirt much. “Yes, I keep a stable in England.”
“I used to ride a horse a long time ago. It’s the best feeling in the world when you are galloping on a powerful horse.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you go to England often?”
“I’m going there tomorrow… want to come? We can go riding together.”
Her eyes widen with shock, then she blinks, and stammers, “I… I… have to work tomorrow. Er... thank you for the offer… it… is very kind of you.”
I smile pleasantly. “I wasn’t being kind. I wanted to take you away for a… how do you Americans say? A dirty weekend.”
“Oh!” She puts her knife and fork down. Somehow, I think she’s finished eating. Not that she ate much.
“I… I have to work, otherwise I would come,” she says with a frown.
“Relax,” I drawl. “You’re not the first woman who’s turned me down.”
She looks surprised. “Really? Do women ever turn you down?”
“Plenty, when I was younger… and a nerd.”
“I can’t believe it. You were a nerd?”
“Yup, I was glued to my computer screen day and night. Couldn’t even look a girl in the eye.”
She smiles, her beautiful sapphire eyes filling with relief that the conversation has moved away from her. “God, I can’t imagine you being shy.”
“I was not shy. I wasn’t interested. I was so completely and utterly consumed with the thing I was creating I barely slept.”
She leans forward, her face inquisitive, the creamy swell of her breasts tantalizing. “What were you creating that so consumed you?”
I stare at her warily. Her beauty is distracting and I’m itching to feel her skin, but is she from the enemy? I can’t tell, but I won’t take any chances. “Just a computer program. Would you like some dessert or coffee?”
She hesitates. “Do you want dessert?”
I shake my head. “I believe the chocolate tart is very good.”
“Very tempting, but I’m not sure I can eat anymore.”
I catch the eye of one of the passing waiters and make a writing motion with my hand, then turn back to her. “It’s been a lovely evening. Thank you.”
“I… uh… I wonder if perhaps I can have a drink at your place?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Drink?”
Hot color rushes into her face. Either she is an excellent actress or she has never done this before.
She takes a deep breath. “You know, one for the road.”
“I have a party to go to tonight.” There is a pause, then I hear myself say, “Would you like to come?”
She looks confused. “A party?”
“I have to say a quick hello to someone important to me.”
For a second I think she is going to refuse, and perhaps it would have been best if she does. Then she smiles that sexy, sinful, smile and says, “Sure. Let’s go to this party of yours.”
And a very, very strange thing happens inside my body.
Raine
A midnight blue Rolls Royce waits for us. The doormen rush to help us into the back. I have never been inside a Rolls before and I swear it is like sitting on a bed. It is so comfortable. The plush leather is smooth under my palm and the car is scented with some delicate perfume.
“Wow, this is nice,” I murmur.
His phone must have vibrated in his pocket, because he takes it out and looks at it. “Please excuse me. I have to take this call.”
“Go right ahead,” I say quickly.
He launches into Russian. I turn to look out of the car. I can hardly believe the reflection in the window is me. I have never done anything like this before in my life. To be honest I haven’t done much in life except work. There hasn’t been much time for partying. I never let myself acknowledge it, but life has been hard. I listen to him talking and suddenly a weird thought comes into my head. How nice it would be if he was my man. If I could stop working so hard and just for a little while let someone else pay the ne
ver-ending bills.
Then I pull back from the thought.
He will never be mine. He and I are chalk and cheese. We wouldn’t get on. Who am I kidding. He pretty much made it clear he wouldn’t want me beyond a one-night stand or a dirty weekend in London. It’s a silly thing, but when he invited me to go with him to London, I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say yes with all my heart.
But I can’t. I can’t.
I’m not here to have a fun time. I’m here to switch a painting. I’m here to save Madison’s life. I hear him end his call and turn to face him in the dim light. He looks at me, then reaches out a hand to touch my hair.
“Is this color real?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
He nods. “It’s beautiful.”
“It doesn’t pay the bills,” I blurt out bitterly. It’s too late to take the words back, and in the dim light I see his eyes become wary again.
Shit. What the hell is the matter with me? Can’t I just stick to the plan? I keep making the same mistake again and again.
“Are you a hooker, Raine?”
“No, I’m not,” I deny hotly.
He leans away from me and the shadows make it impossible for me to make out the expression on his face. “What are you then?”
“I’m just a woman you’ll never have to see again after tonight.”
“Do you have many bills, Raine?” he asks softly.
For some bizarre reason, tears burn the backs of my eyes. I blink them away fiercely, and keep my voice dry and sophisticated, the way I imagine the kind of women he hangs around with would speak. “What doesn’t kill you…”
“True,” he murmurs from the shadows.
It’s totally weird, but I can feel the heat from his body. And something else too. Sexual tension. It is almost like a daddy longlegs is walking on my skin, it’s thread-like legs trembling. He is a total stranger, and one that I disapprove of, but I want to reach out and touch his skin, his hair, his lips… his cock. I shiver with the strong desire.
“Cold?”
“Not really,” I whisper hoarsely.
He leans forward and touches a button, and the cool air coming from the air vent stops. He turns to look at me, and the discreet side light illuminates his face. Why, he is beautiful, really beautiful. Never could I imagine him as a nerd. Nerds are pasty faced and socially awkward. He is ruggedly gorgeous, chiseled face, masculine, sophisticated, and utterly confident of the place he occupies in the world.
“What is it?” he asks, one side of his lips curling with dry amusement.
I tear my gaze away from him. “Nothing,” I say, turning my head. I take a deep breath and try to stop feeling gauche and school-girlish.
“Here we are,” he says, as the car comes to a stop.
Before I can compose myself, the door is opened by an expressionless man in uniform. As I get out, he wishes me a cool good evening. Then Konstantin is standing next to me. Together we walk through the grand entrance of a block of apartments in what is one of the best addresses in Manhattan. The elevator is all shiny chrome and tinted mirrors, and smells of sweet vanilla. It transports us soundlessly up to the roof of the building.
The doors swish open and I have to still a gasp at the magnificent scene.
We are on the roof of the high-rise building. And it has been turned into a magnificent garden in the sky. All the miniature trees are hung with thousands of red paper lanterns, and against the night sky full of stars it is breathtakingly beautiful. The air is filled with conversation and laughter of the elegantly dressed guests. I immediately recognize a few celebrities.
A man in a black suit appears in front of us. “Mr. Tsarnov, this way please. The Count and Countess are waiting for you.”
With one hand lightly resting on the small of my back, Konstantin moves us deeper into the party. I realize everyone is fabulously dressed, but in black and white. I am the only one wearing a blood red dress. People turn to stare at me: the men wear expressions that range from lust to amusement and the women unanimously show outright hostility, as if I have stolen their thunder by not following the dress code.
“It’s a black and white party,” I whisper to Konstantin.
“What does it matter? You look great,” he says carelessly.
“Everyone is staring at me.”
“Take it as a compliment,” he says as we reach a couple.
For a second I am struck dumb by the flawless beauty of the man. He is tall and blond, which in itself is unusual, but what is truly amazing about him is his skin. It is so unblemished and pale he seems almost to glow in the light from the red lanterns. His translucent eyes alight on me and his red lips curve into a distant smile.
“Raine Fillander, meet Count Rocco Rosseti, and his wife, Countess Autumn Rosseti,” Konstantin introduces.
“Oh, stop with the Count and Countess,” the woman says to Konstantin. She turns to me and says warmly, “Please, just call me Autumn.”
“Hello, Raine,” the beautiful man murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic.
“Hello,” I mumble, and not wanting to stare at him, quickly move my gaze back to the woman. She is pretty, but there is also something else about her that makes me instantly love her. She grins at me, then looks teasingly up at Konstantin.
“She’s way too gorgeous for you,” she says.
“I agree,” he drawls.
I sneak a sideways look at him, and catch him looking at me as if he finds me irresistible. My toes curl inside my shoes.
Autumn laughs. “I predict your days as a bachelor are numbered, Mr. Tsarnov.”
I feel myself flush with embarrassment. Thank god for the red lanterns.
“I’m sorry,” Autumn says apologetically to me. “You must forgive me. I’m not being nosy and irritating, I’m just excited Konstantin has finally turned up with someone real for a change.”
“Thanks for that endorsement,” Konstantin says dryly.
“What? You’re going to pretend you don’t deliberately pick bimbos so you can pretend they are not right for you, and end it before it gets too serious,” she challenges.
“I like bimbos.” Konstantin’s voice is light and easy. “Now can we talk about something else?”
She grins cheekily. “Of course we can, but I’m standing by my prediction. Your bachelor days are numbered, young man.”
A man comes and says something quietly to the Count. He nods and says to his wife, “We must go.”
She nods. “Rocco and I are flying back tonight, but you must come to dinner soon. Bring Raine.”
Konstantin shoots a look at me and I raise an eyebrow at him. Without taking his eyes off me, he says, “Sure, I’ll bring her.”
“Good. Now we must be off.” She smiles at me. “Have a lovely time tonight, Raine, and I look forward to having you to dinner.”
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
Autumn moves closer to Konstantin and kisses his cheek, but I see that she takes the opportunity to surreptitiously slip something very small, like a note or an USB stick into the palm of his hand.
Smoothly, he puts his hand into his pocket. “Have a safe flight.”
For a second, I wonder what the thing she passed to him is, but then I catch myself. Clearly, they are all involved in something secret and I don’t need to know. After tonight I will never see any of these people again. My life has nothing to do with this world of jet-setting exclusive people.
“Goodnight,” the mysterious Count calls, as the couple turn away and melt into the crowd.
“Konstantin Tsarnov, is it not?” asks the wonderfully preserved woman standing to the right of us. Her eyes are hard and devoid of any warmth. In fact, there is something so frighteningly cold and calculated about her a shiver runs down my spine.
I feel Konstantin become tense next to me, even as he nods and says gallantly, “At your service, Mrs. Helena Barrington.”
“I believe you know my son,
” she murmurs, a smile playing on her lips.
Konstantin’s voice is smooth. “Yes, we’re working on a charity project together.”
Her mouth twists. “Ah yes, the Starlight project. Very noble.”
“Perhaps you would like to be involved?”
Her eyes glitter strangely. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m far too busy.”
“Well, if you change your mind…”
“I believe you are leaving for London tomorrow.”
Again, I feel Konstantin tense next to me. “Yes, how did you know?”
“I might have heard a rumor,” she says airily. “When you meet my son, will you be good enough to send my love to him? Tell him to kiss my grandson for me.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you,” she says and turning, walks away, her head held high.
“What is that all about?” I whisper.
“I have no idea and I don’t want to know. Come on, let’s go get you a drink.”
Raine
Suddenly, I don’t want to be at this party. I don’t want to spend more time with him or know more about him. I already know I will like him. I am already irresistibly attracted to him, and the deeper I fall for him the harder it will be for me to switch the painting. I don’t want to feel guilty for the rest of my life. I just want to save my sister.
“Can we go back to your place?” I whisper.
He stares into my eyes, a strange expression on his face. Then he nods. “Of course.”
“Konstantin, fancy meeting you here,” a woman’s voice cries gaily from behind us.
I turn to the sight of the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. She has jet black hair and is wearing a shimmering, skin tight dress that shows every perfect curve of her body. I instantly hate her.
“We are just leaving,” Konstantin says coldly.
“What? You just arrived.” She turns her stunning, sly eyes toward me. “This is Konstantin, all over. Such a bore. Always at his computer. Never wanting to party. Tell him you want to stay and party for a little while longer.”
“Actually, I’m ready to leave,” I reply.
The Russian Billionaire: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 4
