Submitting to the Billionaire
“I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“I guess I’m just confused about everything.”
“Well, I’d be confused too if I ended up in the bed of one of the richest men in the world. I can’t believe you told me his name was Nikolai Something or other, when he is Nikolai Smirnov, a fully paid up member of the Russian billionaire club.”
“So you know about him?”
“Of course, I know about him. Everybody in my line knows about him. He dates fashion models and he’s broken a heart or two.”
Instantly, there is an odd lurch in my stomach. I’m not model material. I’m average height and I’m not skinny.
“He is a dish, isn’t he?”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm? Come on? He’s miles better looking than Nigel.”
“You can’t compare them,” I say uncomfortably.
“Hang on. I’m just going to butter this toast. Facetime me in two minutes. I want all the details.”
“I can’t facetime you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure this phone has that function.”
“You got a new phone? You didn’t have it when I saw you yesterday,” she asks surprised.
“Nikolai broke my phone so got me a new one.”
There is a couple of seconds of stunned silence. “He broke your phone? I’m getting a bad vibe here. Want to give me more details before I make them up in my head and totally freak out?”
“When he came into the room last night, I was talking to Nigel. He got so mad he told Nigel to not contact me again while I was living in his house or he’d break every bone in his body. Then he threw my phone on the wall. He was like a beast, Rosa.”
“Oh my. Where has this man been hiding all these years? I don’t think that is beastly at all. I think he was quite right to behave in that way. If I was him I would have done the same.”
“What?”
“Of course. As far as he is concerned Nigel has passed you over to him for a month in exchange for writing off a massive debt. Imagine if that debtor then tried to take back part of that one month. I’d go mad.”
“But Nigel is devastated.”
“Good. I would have loved to have seen his face while the Russian was tearing into him.”
“Rosa,” I admonish.
“Hang on, I’m just going to finish buttering this piece of toast.” I hear the sound of her knife scraping the toast. “Don’t Rosa me. Nigel deserved that. How dare he think that he can use you to pay off a debt?”
“I told you I offered.”
“And I told you, bullshit.”
I refuse to engage and go silent.
“I know you don’t want to believe me, but I don’t feel even a tiny bit sorry for Nigel. He’s so up his own ass. In fact, I’m glad he’s been forced to wake up to the smell of coffee and realize that someone else is drinking his stash. He thought he was so clever. He could have it all. Send you to pay his debt and still keep you keen on the phone. Well, he made a big fucking mistake this time.”
There is nothing to say to that.
“So, what kind of phone have you got now?”
“It’s a Vertu.”
“Really? What kind of Vertu is it?”
“I don’t know.” I take the phone away from my ear and look at it before putting it back to my ear. “It’s quite sleek with a mother of pearl inlay and it comes with a matching white alligator skin clutch-style case.”
She squeals.
“What?”
“That phone is worth nearly £18,000!”
“What?”
“Yes, that little stone select key is a Princess Cut diamond! And those face pieces, they’re all sapphires.”
“Oh, my god!”
“Sweet Jesus. This guy doesn’t mess about, does he?”
“Why would he give me such an expensive phone?” I whisper.
I hear her take a big chomp of her toast. “I have no idea, but you know what? I am liking this guy more and more. So, come on, tell me about the sex.”
I have an image of him with his fingers inside me while my naked body writhes and gushes all over his antique table. I feel hot all over and something inside me tightens. Damn him. I can’t tell anyone about him. I’d be too embarrassed.
“Listen. I’ve got to go down for breakfast, but I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Call me later. Star?”
“Yeah.”
“What shall I tell Cindy?”
“I’ll call her later and tell her.”
“Great. Have fun, babe.”
“You too.”
I hang up and go over to the armoire where I select a sleeveless blue dress. It is simple and sweet. I rummage around in the boxes at the bottom of the cupboard and find a pair of white ballet pumps. I run a silver comb through my hair, plait it into a long braid down my back, and go downstairs.
The hallway is deserted so I walk to the room where I had been first taken to. It is empty too. As I stroll along the corridor towards the dining room, I pass a door that is open. It is a sunny room with a piano in it. Celine is sitting at a table with her laptop open.
She looks up and grins. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She stands up. “Good. Mr. Smirnov has gone out riding, but he is expecting to have breakfast with you.”
“Oh.”
She glances at her watch. “He will be back in less than an hour. Would you like a quick tour of the house before you eat?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
She closes her laptop.
“Celine, do you know if I can get my hands on a laptop?”
She starts walking towards me. “Of course. What brand and model would you like?”
“I’m used to a MacBook Air.”
“What software would you like installed in it?”
“Just Word.”
She smiles. “I will have it delivered by lunchtime. In the meantime you are welcome to use mine.”
I smile back at her. “It’s not urgent. I can wait until lunchtime.”
Celine has taken the time to learn the history of the place and she is full of interesting bits of information.
There are five-hundred meters of corridor in the house.
The big ballroom was used as a hospital during the war.
As we climb a set of wide, shallow stone stairs in the West wing, she tells me the children of the first Earl who built the house used to ride their ponies up those stairs into their playrooms on the first floor. Their playroom was the entire floor.
She opens a door and we enter the long almost empty room. It has many mullioned windows, a bare wooden floor, and white walls. It is markedly different from the splendor and grandeur of the rest of the house. The thing that keeps it different is an old rocking horse. There is something indescribably sad about the space. I couldn’t even imagine that this place was once filled with children’s toys and their sound of their feet and laughter.
“This is the only undecorated room in the house,” Celine says moving towards one of the windows and looking out of it.
“Why is that?”
She shrugs and turns to face me. “I was told Mr. Smirnov didn’t want it decorated. He wanted to keep it in its original form.”
A shiver goes through me. “I see.”