"No, not at all." He gave another smile and followed her inside. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"I'm parched," he answered softly, too close behind her. She grabbed a bottle of water and turned, nearly bumping into his chest. She could feel, now. It wasn't his hand. His entire body was cold, and his skin, stretched thin across his bones…he stared at her, and she shivered involuntarily.
"Here you go."
The words came out as a whisper, her voice almost shaking. There was something about this guy, something that she hadn't seen at all in the hall. Like he'd flipped a switch and become a wholly different person. Misty didn't even notice when he took the water and cracked the seal on the top—not until he stepped back, broke the eye contact, and took a long drink.
"Aw, thanks. You don't know how long I've been driving, and I didn't want to stop until I got here."
Misty stared, dumbfounded, for a long could of seconds before regaining her composure. "O—oh. No problem."
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
"No problem, Mr…"
"Solomonov. Vladimir Solomonov, pleased to meet you."
He held his hand out and they shook again.
"Misty Reed. Now, what seems to be the trouble, Mr. Solom…"
"Solomonov. I know, it's a bit of a mouthful. I've got a ghost problem at my house. I think."
"What makes you think that?" Misty was surprised to hear how professional her own voice sounded coming out of her mouth. How in-control and knowledgeable she seemed.
"Well, at first it was just little things. I'd wake up, and find things out of place. Like they'd been moved." He paused and watched Misty for some response, and she nodded for him to continue. "I figured it was just the maid, and gave her a talking-to. But then it got bigger."
"Could be a ghost, I guess," Misty agreed.
"I started waking up in strange places, and the electronics around the house kept going haywire. Stuff only I had access to. Passwords changed, whatever. I have spent…you don't know how much, getting everything back in order. By the time I'm done with one thing, another shows up. The servants hear all sorts of strange noises throughout the house at night, bumps and groans and moans, and in the morning the walls are marked like something struck them. But nobody knows who it could be, and the locks are all bolted and security shows nothing."
Misty looked over at Mason, who was listening intently, and they shared a look. That didn't sound kind-of like a ghost. That sounded like something Mason was actively doing right now, in a different house and to a different person. He smiled innocently.
"Of course," Misty said softly. "And you'd like me to look into it?"
"If it's not too much to ask," he answered. "What's your usual fee?"
"Fifty dollars, per day if it takes more than one."
"I'll double it, if you can figure out what's going on with my house. And an extra thousand on top of that, if you can make it go away for good."
Misty's jaw hit the floor. A thousand dollars for a couple days' work? What was this guy thinking? Who the hell was paying her for this stuff? She tried to hide her surprise. Even Mason, who generally ignored monetary concerns, raised his eyebrows when he heard the number.
What do you think?
Mason shrugged. "May as well take a look."
"That's a very gracious offer, Mr… Solomonov. When would you like me to start?"
"I can drive you out to my estate now, if you don't have anything else in your schedule."
"No, nothing at all."
The ride was silent. It reminded Misty, more than anything, of the ride she'd taken out with Henry—the ride that had gotten this entire thing started. Where Henry had been big, strong, and attractive, Vlad was thin and wiry, and looked like an ugly woman.
Still, the way he talked, he had money, and a lot of it. He'd offered a month's worth of pay for what would certainly amount to a day or two of actual work, tops.
There was a voice, in the very back of her mind, that said that she was in danger. That he could hurt her, badly if he wanted to. She pushed it aside. She'd already let him into her apartment, and even left a note with the location where she would be staying in case.
If he wanted to hurt her, then he would've already done it. He'd been spooky at first, and something tickled the back of her mind. Like something was familiar about the whole situation, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Were you born here, Mr. Solomonov? I can't help but hear a bit of…"
"Israel. I was born in Israel."
"Oh," Misty said, and shut up. It was going to be a long couple of hours.
"This is my home," he said, and when he said it Misty realized she had fallen asleep. She jerked awake and looked up. The house loomed high, and wide, and massive, in every direction. It must have been three stories, and at least thirty thousand square feet. She wouldn't have been surprised to hear that it was larger.
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. Rather, she just stood there, slack-jawed. How could someone in such a place come…to her? Daddy had money, no doubt about that. But this…
"Jesus," she breathed out, finally. Somehow the money he'd offered, a fee that had seemed so absurd, seemed almost frivolous. She should've asked for more, even, if she could make problems go away for a guy like this.
"Let me show you where you'll be staying," he said, and started walking. A fabulously beautiful woman came over to him and took his jacket. He told her that he'd like her to go bring him a cognac in his room; he was headed that way now. Someone opened the door for him and everything. Misty shivered as she went inside.
There was no reason not to accept his hospitality, of course. She should stay a little while and enjoy the finer things. But she had a job to do, too. She took a deep breath, and relaxed her defenses. Ghosts should have come banging out of the woodwork, no matter where she was. In the city, they were a constant presence, almost a menace.
There was nothing, just one. And she'd brought him here.
"Why can't you live in a place like this? Let's just move in here," he commented to her.
Where are the spooks?
"I don't know. The guy said he had a problem with one, but I'm not seeing any."
It's not just me, right? That's weird.
"I mean it's not…that weird. Weird for places where people live, but if this house was just built in the past couple decades, and it was a forest before, it's what you'd expect."
But then what's his problem?
"Good question," he said, and went quiet. Misty did the same, following at a comfortable pace behind her host.
The room he took her to was large. Not quite as large as her apartment, but she had to walk it to be sure. "I hope you don't mind the accommodations. I'm right across the hall, so if anything concerns you…"
"It's fantastic. I'll get started right away."
She left out the part where she'd already started and already hit a dead-end. When night came, she'd be able to see what he was talking about, maybe. If there were spirits involved, she'd find out about it somehow. But if not, then at least there were fresh eyes on the problem.
When the thought crossed her mind, she bolted for the door. The woman she'd seen on the way in, with tits as large as Misty's head and a face that could've been a models, was standing outside the door, facing away from her.
"Ah, Grace. Lovely. Thank you. Oh, Miss Reed, is something the matter?"
"I was just thinking. If I'm going to need to be awake to investigate your nightly problems, then…is there any way to get an espresso made here? Or…"
"Certainly. Do you want it now, or later?"
"I guess around midnight?"
"Grace can bring it to you, can't you, Grace?"
"Of course," she answered. Then she turned to Misty, and though she'd never really had the urge to experiment before she felt her knees getting watery. "Do you take cream or sugar?"
"Uh—um, yes. Two tablespoons."
They s
tood there together in the hall for a long moment before Vladimir broke the silence. "Is that all, Miss Reed?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry." She stepped back into her room and started to close the door, but not before she saw Grace go inside of Mr. Solomonov's room.
Either they were silent or the rooms were well-soundproofed, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear them. The noises were faint, but she kept imagining the sounds, imagining Grace's soft, slender, supple body pressed into the bed. The way she mewled out her pleasure…Misty shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?
She laid down on her bed and closed her eyes. She had a long night ahead of her. A nap would go a long way toward making her feel a hell of a lot better.
A knock at the door awoke her, and she opened the door to find Grace at the door. She had a strange look on her face, but as Misty thought about it she realized that it was the same look she'd had when they had been greeted at the door, or when she had asked Misty how she took her coffee.
A sort of mystified aspect, as if she weren't entirely there. She had a cup in her hand, and a saucer in her other. "Your coffee, Miss?"
"Oh," Misty said, rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes. "Oh! Let me take that," she said softly, and reached for the cup and saucer.
"I can just set it down on the desk if you'd like."
"Oh, of course."
Misty moved out of the door and watched Grace come in, her hips swaying seductively as she moved.
She could feel, even if she couldn't see, Mason watching her, too. Could feel the smug self-satisfaction that he was almost certainly feeling himself. She hated looking human in front of him, he always made a big deal of it.
The image she'd imagined earlier began solidifying in her mind as Grace set the coffee down. She wasn't on her back, no. She was leaning over a table, a table just like the one she set the coffee at now. When she leaned over to set the saucer down, her skirt lifted, just enough to get the imagination going. In a house so large, so opulent, if Vladimir Solomonov had wanted his personal…whatever to wear a professional-looking skirt, she would be wearing one.
Instead, she wore a skirt that put thoughts in your head, the sort of thoughts going through Misty's mind now. She walked up to the table to take the coffee, and as she got close she could smell Grace's perfume. It was sharp and sweet, almost like the smell of a cinnamon roll.
"Is there anything else?"
Her voice sounded strange, as if she expected her to say that there was something else, after all.
"No," Misty answered, slightly confused. "Do you know anything about…some sort of ghost? Or something?"
Grace's head tilted as she heard the question, and then straightened again. The movement was too smooth, too controlled. Couldn't have been natural, but still Misty couldn't tell why.
"A ghost? No, miss. The cooks tell stories, of course, but I haven't seen anything like that."
"No strange sounds in the night? Nothing moving around?"
"Oh. Do you think that's a ghost? I thought it was Mr. Solomonov."
"I see," Misty answered, softly. She took a drink of the coffee, which was surprisingly perfect. She drank as deeply as the heat would allow. "Thank you, Grace."
Misty expected her to walk out of the room, and as she watched, Grace turned to do just that. But the noise, just outside the room, stopped her. Stopped them both.
Grace looked over her shoulder, and for the first time that Misty had seen she looked completely in control of herself. Gone was the misty-eyed confusion of only a few minutes earlier, replaced with guarded fear.
"He's awake," she said softly, and sat down. "You should go, it's time for you to work."
Misty nodded and pulled the door open, dropping her defenses against spirits at the same time. Just like before, though, she found none. Instead, she found a man—very much a living man. He was walking down the hall, but his massive bulk combined with a seeming inability to stand straight, had him smashing his broad, powerful shoulders into the wall every few yards.
"Hey!" Misty called out. The giant ignored her.
He must have stood at least seven feet tall, if not taller, and couldn't have weighed less than three hundred and fifty pounds. From what she saw, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him, either. Just legs as thick as tree trunks, and arms that looked powerful enough to rip the foundations of the house straight from the earth.
She ducked back into the room to grab…she didn't know. She only knew that she needed something, if she was going to go chasing after the hulking man.
"Did you see?"
Grace's voice broke her out of her panic. Misty looked up at her, uncertain. "The giant?"
"That's him." Her voice was soft and held hints of misery. "That's my Vova."
"What the hell happened to him?"
"I don't know, and I don't ask. He's inconsolable when he's like that."
"Well…" Misty closed her eyes. Mason could help here, she hoped. She only knew that she wasn't having any ideas. "Just, come with me, okay?"
Grace's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "No! I'm scared!"
Misty returned her wide-eyed look, with an incredulous expression. "You think I'm not? Jeez! I didn't sign up to fight some huge guy! Come with me!"
Grace chewed on her lip, the first really human thing that Misty had seen out of her. It helped to make her seem less superhuman, more understandable. If she was afraid, then Misty understood completely. But that didn't mean she was going to get away without helping, either.
"Come with me," Misty repeated, softer. "I won't make you do anything crazy, okay? Just come with me."
Grace let out a long sigh and nodded, pushing herself out of the chair and walking across the room. Her heels made a distinct noise, even on the carpeted floor.
"Maybe you should take off the shoes, though, who knows?"
"Right." Grace removed them and tossed them away, and the pair of them came out into the hall.
The giant had gone. Wherever he was now, he had left a swath of destruction—ruined vases, a thick crack that ran through the top of a table, cracks that seemed to go all the way through the drywall from floor to ceiling. Misty closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Mason?
He appeared at her side as soon as she stopped holding him at bay.
"I'm here, and I should let you know that while I know you're in love me, you should probably not pick a fight with a pissed off giant. I'm too old for you, ghost or no. You'll have to find someone else."
Misty clenched her jaw and stared ahead, purposefully not responding. God damnit she should have seen this coming.
Do you have any ideas?
"Well, I have one idea, but you're not going to like it."
Okay, care to elaborate?
"No, I'm just gonna do it. When you see me moving, go with it, okay?"
Misty closed her eyes and hesitated as they stood at the top step, down the stairs that Vladimir Solomonov, or the massive thing that Grace claimed was him, had descended. Mason had a way of creating problems where previously there had been bigger ones. Now was far from the ideal time for any of his shenanigans, but if he had an idea, it might be worth it.
Okay.
"Good! I'll go start preparing. You'll know what my plan is when it happens, just play along."
Misty nodded absently. She knew Mason, and the more that she thought about it the more she worried about this plan of his. He had a bad tendency to cause trouble, and the more pleased he was about something, the more trouble it was going to cause.
Usually it meant trouble for her specifically—something about having an audience to his mischief drove it into overdrive. Now he was going to have her at the end of a long rope, no way to back out, and whatever was going to happen, Grace would probably see it, too, even if she didn't see him doing it. Which meant double the trouble.
She started down the stairs and looked around at the carnage that Vladimir Solomonov had caused to his own house. If he thought this was a poltergeist,
then he must have thought that poltergeists were capable of almost anything.
The only thing that was truly free from damage was the floor, which was a thick slab of polished stone. The ceiling had occasional places where something had run up into it and opened up a gash, but it too was relatively unharmed.
Rather, everything in the rest of the room looked as if a tornado had come through. Bookshelves strewn across the length of the room, nearly forty feet long. Tables upended. It hardly even looked like the same room she had walked through only a few hours earlier.
"This is worse than normal," Grace said softly. She grabbed Misty's shoulder and spun her around until they were face-to-face. "Why is this happening? What's causing this?"
"I don't know! I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm doing my best!" Grace bristled but said nothing. "He said ghosts! He said he had a ghost problem, and could I look at it! Ghosts I can do!"
A male voice in her mind shut her up:
I found him. Keep going through the door and take a right.
"Okay, I know where he is. Follow me."
Misty started moving quickly across the room, not waiting to see if Grace came with her. The sound of feet padding on the stone behind her told her that the busty woman had. She peeked her head out around the corner, down a long hall. This was the right way, she thought.
Turning the other way, she could see that some carnage had been loosed in the other direction. Not as much.
She hadn't realized how hard it would be to go through with this, though. Every second, every beat of her heart, only served to remind her of the danger lurking around the corner. If Mason could talk to her, then he was close, even if she couldn't see him.
She'd been in plenty of creepy places, guided by Mason and her desire for cheap thrills. Empty places where whatever had happened was weeks, months, years ago. It should have been the same here, but she knew that at some point she would come around a corner and be face-to-face with something—something real, something that could really hurt her. Mason had better have a goddamn good plan.
Then she heard him, muffled through the walls. He was grunting and groaning angrily, and she could hear the sound of wood, splintering in his massive hands. A shiver ran down her spine, and she could feel a pit in her gut. A voice told her to go, that it was too dangerous to be here. That wasn't an option, though. She needed to do this, whether she wanted to. It wasn't even about the money anymore, she realized.
A Billionaire's Heart (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 21
