Billionaire Without a Past (Irresistible Russian Tycoons)

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘The last time I went back I spoke to Sergio’s widow. She said that Roman had run wild after I left but she thought he had joined the military. It’s been a dead end since then. I was looking for Sev and trying to find out more about what had happened to you. She told me about the letter and that you had killed yourself—that your body had been found in the river...’

  Nikolai felt as if he was on his yacht during rough seas. It was as if the floor had lurched from beneath him and he had to fight to keep his face impassive as he turned around. ‘She told you about the letter...’ Nikolai could feel his heart racing. Before running away he had written an angry letter detailing the abuse and had put it under the office door, in the hope of sparing another child from what had happened to him.

  They must have thought it a suicide note.

  There were so many details he could go over about that time. He had witnessed a fight and a young man being pushed into the river. He had dropped his bag, intending to dive in, but none of that mattered at this moment, just one thing.

  ‘Did she tell you what was in the letter?’’

  ‘About the abuse?’ Daniil checked, and then nodded. ‘She said that the teacher was removed...’

  Daniil knew, Nikolai realised.

  His friend already knew and yet he sat looking him in the eye.

  ‘Does Sev know?’

  ‘Of course. We have been trying to piece things together...’

  ‘And does Libby know as well?’ Nikolai asked, and Daniil nodded.

  ‘Does Libby know what?’ came Libby’s voice, and Nikolai glanced up as she came to the door.

  ‘We were just talking about the reason Nikolai ran away.’

  ‘I hope he burns in hell for what he did to you,’ Libby said, and took a seat.

  And that was that.

  She knew too.

  Nikolai had been so dreading the revelation and now he’d found that they already knew.

  And if Libby knew...

  ‘Does anybody else know?’ Nikolai asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Daniil said, but Nikolai’s eyes were on Libby, who went red.

  ‘I might have said something to Rachel...’ Libby really wasn’t having the best day. ‘We were flatmates at the time. She was thrilled when Sev and Daniil got back in touch...’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Nikolai said, but though they carried on the conversation his mind was whirring.

  Rachel had known about the abuse all along.

  He remembered her now turning to him at the wedding and her forthright greeting.

  ‘Aren’t you the dead one?’

  She had known his history when they’d danced, she had known when they’d talked and she had known when they’d made love.

  All along she had known and she had been her outgoing, effusive self.

  So why the discomfort at the conversation, why had she squirmed and fought to change the subject? At the mention of abuse Rachel had practically turned and run.

  It was how he had felt when Yuri had broached the subject, it was how he had felt today when he’d thought he might have to speak about it with Daniil.

  He recalled her words and the flash of her eyes and now he recognised the anger that had been in them as she’d said, ‘I get it, okay?’

  Libby, who she discussed so much with, had just admitted that Rachel was touchy about her family but even she didn’t know why.

  Nikolai thought he did.

  Rachel did indeed get it.

  She had sailed that vile ship too, Nikolai was now sure of it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RACHEL, ONCE HOME, wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment. She lay on her bed and cringed. Not only hadn’t she apologised to Nikolai, he had, thanks to Libby, found out that, till recently, she’d been sleeping with André.

  Oh, she did not want to guess Nikolai’s opinion of her.

  She had a bath in the hope of relaxing but that had stopped working ages ago.

  She peeled off her shower cap and pulled on her robe. As she headed down the hall there was a knock at the door and though she thought about not answering it, she knew she’d have been seen through the glass.

  It might be her mum, she thought with a weary sigh.

  Instead it was Nikolai.

  ‘Libby forgot to give you the keys to the dance studio. I said it was no problem for me to drop them around.’

  He held them out to her.

  ‘There’s also a list of lesson times.’

  Rachel didn’t want to hear about keys and lesson times. ‘I’m sorry!’ Rachel said. She just blurted out the words she had been holding in all week. ‘I was a cow when you told me—’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘No, no, it isn’t. I was going to ask Daniil for your number but then you were there.’

  He granted her the smile she’d thought she would never see again but she couldn’t return it.

  ‘I’m so embarrassed,’ she admitted.

  ‘Why?’ Nikolai asked.

  ‘Because of...’ She glanced over his shoulder as if God might be behind him waiting to judge. ‘You know.’

  ‘You’re embarrassed about the charming André?’ he checked, and she nodded. ‘He’s the cheat, Rachel, there’s nothing there for you to be embarrassed about. So, are you going to let me in?’

  ‘Oh.’

  She was surprised he was at her door, let alone that he wanted to come in. She stepped aside and he looked very out of place in her shabby hall but very nice too.

  ‘You wanted my phone number?’ he asked her, to clarify.

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel nodded. ‘Just to say sorry.’

  ‘So you weren’t hoping I’d ask you out again?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you’d left for overseas.’

  ‘You’re quite sure you didn’t want me to take you out?’

  ‘Quite sure,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you leave a week on Monday.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like deep relationships.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she agreed.

  ‘And what if I told you I had tickets to see Firebird tonight?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Always.’

  Just not so serious when he was with her.

  ‘How?’

  Nikolai didn’t answer.

  After leaving Daniil’s, he had intended to drive back to his yacht, get changed and go out.

  He had felt lighter.

  That his friends already knew had lifted his burden. He was looking forward now to Sev and Naomi getting back from their honeymoon, to catching up with old friends.

  London was looking beautiful. The weather was warm, skirts were short and legs were long, and it was time to hit the town. He had some friends in London. Perhaps they could head back to the yacht and light up the night in his usual, wild style.

  He hadn’t partied since he had been here and that was unusual for him. He had been too busy thinking about Rachel.

  And he had thought of her then, as he’d driven, and suddenly a wild night out had not appealed.

  He wanted her to know the relief of another person knowing.

  It was something he could not properly describe, but when he had told Yuri, the world had not only carried on turning, it had turned brighter.

  And with Daniil’s revelation, with the acceptance of a friend who knew, it had turned brighter again today.

  Even if he was only here for a short while, he wanted Rachel to know that feeling so he had made a call and secured the hottest tickets in London tonight.

  Rachel couldn’t quite believe it.

  ‘Did Anya give them to you?’

  ‘No. I don’t ask Anya for anything.’

 
‘Why not?’

  ‘I just never would. It is how we are with home kids.’

  ‘Home kids?’

  ‘The ones who have parents,’ Nikolai said. ‘So do you want to come to the ballet or not?’

  ‘Want.’ Rachel smiled.

  ‘Then we have to leave now.’

  ‘Now?’ she said, and panicked when she realised the time and that she was still in her robe. ‘I have to get dressed.’

  ‘Then do so but...’ As she turned to go he caught her wrist. ‘I like these...’ His other hand came to her face and his thumb went over her cheek.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The brown things.’

  ‘They’re called freckles, Nikolai,’ Rachel said, but she blushed as she realised she had no make-up on. ‘And they are not coming to the ballet.’

  ‘Pity.’

  ‘You call for a taxi, I’ll get changed.’

  She went into her bedroom and opened the wardrobe. She could shop for England and had plenty to choose from. She loved colour and standing out but tonight she was in the mood for something different so she selected a simple black dress.

  She went into the drawer and chose demure underwear, some lacy cream knickers and a matching bra, and she shrugged off her robe.

  ‘You need to hurry,’ he called from the other side of the door as she put her underwear on.

  ‘I am,’ she said, and tried to keep the breathless note from her voice and to resist calling him in.

  She was confused that he was here in her home, dizzy that he had secured tickets to see Firebird and also terribly aware of her desire.

  No, she didn’t want a deep relationship but she ached for each moment with him.

  She sat at her dressing table and reached for her magic foundation, and then she thought of his comment. She never went out without her make-up but tonight she went without foundation. She rouged her cheeks and then put on her eye make-up and mascara, and with little time she coiled her hair and pinned it up.

  Her black dress she paired with nude shoes and then she stepped out. His eyes took in every detail, and her skin prickled under his scrutiny. She had dressed the most demurely she had since meeting him and yet somehow his eyes stripped her naked.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  ‘Is the taxi here?’ she asked, adding keys and lipstick to her bag and spraying her perfume.

  ‘My driver is waiting.’

  ‘Your driver?’

  ‘Well, the firm I use when I am in London.’

  She knew nothing about him, Rachel thought as she stepped into a luxurious car and asked a question. ‘Where are you when you’re not in London?’

  ‘Here and there.’

  ‘But where’s your base?’

  He didn’t answer but Rachel took no offence—after all, there were loads of questions she chose not to answer—and so she spoke of the night ahead.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re going to see Anya on her last night in London.’

  She was so excited and it was infectious. ‘Have you been to the ballet before?’

  ‘Never,’ he admitted.

  ‘You are in for such a treat.’

  ‘Will you write about it?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Rachel nodded. ‘In fact, I make a point of writing about it the second I get home while it’s fresh in my mind.’

  It was then that he made up his mind. Tonight he would show her his—as Rachel called it—base.

  Tonight he would invite her into his home.

  The car pulled up at the theatre and the door was opened for them. And he watched as, after she climbed out, Rachel smoothed her hands down her thighs, as she always did. She was becoming familiar to him—delightfully so—and that was something he usually chose to avoid.

  They were running late. The bell had been ringing for the audience to take their seats and they were swiftly shown through.

  ‘How the hell did you get seats?’ Rachel asked as they entered the packed theatre. She still could not believe it—even with all her connections in the dance world she had been unable to secure tickets for tonight. But then as the usher led them to their places and she took her seat beside a duchess, Rachel turned in confusion to look at the man beside her.

  These were, Rachel knew, house seats—seats that the theatre kept aside just in case royalty, or a passing billionaire, suddenly decided at six p.m. that there was a production they wanted to see.

  These were the seats that, when you performed, you knew might be filled by a princess.

  ‘Nikolai...’ she said. ‘Where did you get the tickets?’

  ‘Don’t ask questions,’ he said, as the lights went down. ‘Just enjoy the night.’

  Oh, she did.

  Anya, or Tatania as she was tonight, was breathtaking.

  Her slender frame was perfect for the part and when she performed a series of fouettés it was like watching a wisp of spinning gold.

  Rachel had seen her perform on many occasions but tonight she was simply electric, like a feather on a breeze. Everything Anya had, Rachel knew, was poured into the performance tonight and they watched as she served up her heart for the audience.

  Usually the interval was gratefully received but tonight the audience just wanted to be back in their seats. Rachel was torn. She wanted the performance to restart and yet, standing talking to Nikolai, hearing about Anya growing up, and just being here with him was unrivalled bliss.

  ‘She used to practise in the kitchen,’ he explained. Even he was impressed. ‘Her mother was the cook at the orphanage and when Anya was home from a holiday she never let up, always she practised.’

  ‘She’s completely brilliant,’ Rachel said.

  ‘You’re not jealous?’

  ‘No.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘I just love watching her or any performer at the top of their game. I know I could never dance the way Anya does.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘My height,’ she said. ‘It went against me in pas de deux classes. They don’t want to risk the young males’ backs...’

  ‘You’re tiny.’

  ‘Not comparatively,’ Rachel said. ‘So, no, I always accepted I’d never be a soloist. Libby would be jealous of Anya,’ Rachel mused, though she said it without malice, it was more an observation. ‘She always wanted to play the lead.’

  ‘What was your favourite part?’

  ‘All of them,’ Rachel said. ‘I was never Odette but I was one of the swan princesses for a couple of seasons. The costume was so beautiful.’ She sighed at the thought of it. ‘It was just a swirl of white feathers and I felt like I was in heaven. Then I went back to being a swan. A happy swan! I just loved the chance to dance. Everybody has different ways of pushing themselves and trying to make it to the lead was one of Libby’s...’

  ‘What was your way of pushing yourself?’ he asked, and Rachel thought about it for a moment before answering.

  ‘Escape,’ she admitted. ‘I just loved the escape that dance gave me.’

  ‘And without it?’ he asked, as the bell rang to tell them to go back to their seats.

  They ignored it for the moment.

  Rachel was lost in her thoughts about what she would do without the escape the dance world had given her.

  Since the age of five dance had ruled her and now she ruled herself.

  What would she do without that escape?

  ‘I have the right to remain silent,’ she answered with a smile that was met by serious brown eyes.

  ‘You do.’

  Oh, the comfort that gave.

  He didn’t press her, he didn’t demand to be led to her dark places; instead, he took her hand and they went back to their seats and again she was lost to another world, but not entirely.

  She could
feel him beside her, the warmth of his thigh and the heat of his hand that she gripped during a thrilling part of the performance.

  And he held her hand tightly back, and she felt the pressure of his palm in her thumb and her stomach tightened.

  ‘I don’t want it to end,’ she said as it did.

  He let go of her hand and the crowd stood as one and cheered as the curtain rose and fell.

  The applause was deafening and Tatania curtsied deeply and collected the flowers that were thrown, and then in a pause in applause Tatania suddenly stilled and looked up.

  It was the only time in the entire night that she seemed frozen but she recovered and with one more curtsey she was gone.

  ‘Do you want to go and see her?’ Nikolai offered, and, given the seats they were in, Rachel knew it would pose no problem.

  ‘No,’ she admitted, because she had spent an afternoon, an evening and then a night next to him with others around and all she wanted was for them to be alone. ‘I want to be with you.’

  He was close behind her as they picked their way through the crowd and she could feel his eyes on her and then he took her hand again. How could holding hands be such a turn-on? Rachel thought as they walked. His touch made her want to run, with him.

  They walked out on the street to where his driver waited when she would have preferred a kiss.

  So would he.

  Instead, they got into the car and sat apart because it was safer but still his hand was hot around hers.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, as the car threaded through the traffic towards the Isle of Dogs rather than towards her home. She wondered if he had booked a hotel for tonight and there was a flutter of panic at the thought of staying awake for yet another night and the battle with the lights. At her flat she felt more in control, she could leave the hall light on... ‘Nikolai, I have to go home. I need to write my piece...’

  ‘I want to take you to my home.’

  They climbed out of the car and there was a small crowd taking pictures of a luxury yacht that was lit up spectacularly.

  ‘The Russians must be in town...’ Rachel started a small joke and then halted as she realised that he wasn’t taking her to some hotel, or some small apartment. The Russians were indeed in town and Nikolai’s home was a superyacht.