Submitting to the Billionaire

“Nikolai,” she whispers.

I turn my head and look down at her.

“Who is that blonde boy in the painting downstairs?”

I stop breathing.

Russia

1992

Two goddamn years pass in that hellhole. Some of the bigger boys leave and new children are brought in. Sergei turns sixteen. In a year he will be gone. The other gang members want me to take over, but I refuse. My goal is not to be leader. My goal is to escape with my brother.

I can see that the longer we stay here the more he becomes a shadow of himself. His personality has completely changed. He sits alone for long periods without interaction. Yesterday when we talked in the dining room he’d suddenly looked at me and there was something desperate in his eyes.

‘‘What is it, Pavel?’’

‘‘I wish I was strong and smart like you, Nikolai.”

“You are strong, Pavel. And you’re brave and kind.’’

‘‘No. Not like you, Nikolai. One day you’ll leave here and be free.’’

I frown. “I’m not going anywhere without you. We will leave together, Pavel, and very soon you’ll see.”

“‘I’ll never leave here, Nikolai.’’ He dabs his eyes with the back of his hand. My heart aches to see my brother cry.

“Of course we will. We will leave together and we’ll survive this world,” I tell him.

I should have known then. I should have understood that faraway look in his eyes. He was not strong enough for this place. I should have taken him away from here.

I am in my class when Vasily, one of the teachers, sends for me. My heart starts to race. Somehow I know why I’m being summoned even before I step into his office.

Chapter Forty

Star

“My brother,” he says bitterly. Before I can ask him anything else he gets up, pulls on his pants, and walks towards the door.

“Nikolai, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you.”

He doesn’t turn around. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he says coldly, before shutting the door quietly.

I close my eyes. Why on earth did I ask that? I’m so stupid. It’s so blatantly obvious he doesn’t want to share any information about his life with me. I don’t see him again that night. I fall asleep feeling sad. Sad that everything I believed in is gone. Sad that I can never have anything more than sex with Nikolai.

I sleep badly and wake up even earlier than usual. It is only six o’clock, but it is already bright outside. I go out onto the balcony in the cool air as I do every morning and drink in the beauty of the grounds. Far in the distance I see something. I crane my neck forward and squint my eyes.

Nikolai is riding Belyy Smert.

The way they move takes my breath away. They fly over the green grass. They are perfect together. Both achingly beautiful but hostile and aloof. I watch them until they are hidden by the trees.

Nikolai doesn’t stay for breakfast.

I can’t help the disappointment that settles inside me. Every time it looks as if Nikolai’s walls might be crumbling they repair themselves, right before my eyes, becoming stronger and more impenetrable.

I sigh deeply and tell myself it is better this way. Then I get into my riding gear and go for my riding lesson. Ray is pleased with my progress. I’m getting good. Obviously I can’t gallop the way Nikolai was doing this morning, but I can confidently put Miss One Penny into a brisk trot.

An hour later I am back in the house. After a quick shower I have breakfast with Celine. Halfway through I almost die of shock. My phone pings and when I look at it curiously I see that there is an email from one of the agencies I sent my manuscript to in my inbox. Nervously, I stare at it.

“What is it?” Celine asks.

“It’s one of the Literary agencies.”

“Open it then”

I chew on my bottom lip worriedly. “I read on the net that if you get such a quick answer it’s most likely a rejection.”

She makes a small movement of her shoulders. “I don’t think you should automatically assume that. Sophia did a very clever thing. She knew that all the other writers would be sending their applications in by second class post, so to make your submission stand out from everybody else she put it into handmade leather envelopes, and had it couriered to all of them. She thought, and I completely agree with her, that if you have the confidence to show that you think your work is important enough to deserve urgency, the agency will be sufficiently intrigued to give it priority too.”

My eyes widen with astonishment. “Wow, she did all that. She doesn’t even know me. I must send her a box of chocolates or something to say thank you properly.”

“Are you going to look, or shall I?”

I hand the phone to her. “I think you better.”

She takes it and taps on the email, her eyes moving across quickly as she reads the reply. She looks up from the screen. “What do you think they’ve sent?”

I stare at Celine. Surely, she wouldn’t be keeping me on tenterhooks if they said no. “They said yes?” I ask uncertainly, hardly daring to believe such a thing.

She grins widely. “Yes, they said yes. They want to see the rest of the book.”

“Give me that phone,” I shout excitedly.

She hands me the phone and I read the precious words from someone called Daria Elizabeth Bowen from Peter Thiel’s Literary Agency. Basically, she likes my first three chapters and wants me to send the rest of the manuscript as soon as possible.

‘Oh, my god. Oh my god,” I squeal happily, jumping out of my chair and doing a happy dance. Celine goes into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of champagne. We open it and knock on wood so we don’t jinx my luck. We toast to my success. We get a little tipsy together. I tell Celine that we must keep in touch even once my month is over. She gives me a funny look but doesn’t try to pry.

After about three glasses (champagne glasses don’t count as full glasses) Celine goes away to print out my manuscript and get it couriered over to the agency. I call Rosa.

“Yay! That is amazing news. I’m so happy for you. Put a bottle of champagne on ice and we’ll drink it when the final verdict comes in.”

“Too late, I’ve already drunk it,” I say with a drunken giggle.

I only sober up when I have to speak to Nigel. I talk to him for about ten minutes but I don’t tell him about the agency. I can’t bring myself to. I’ll tell him if the agency actually accepts my work. After lunch Nikolai calls. He has never called me before and I feel nervous and tongue-tied. Like some schoolkid talking to her crush.

“Sophia tells me one of the agencies asked for the rest of your book,” he says.

“Yes,” I say awkwardly.

“Do you want to celebrate it?”

“Yes,” I croak.

“Dinner?”

“Okay.”

“Do you have a restaurant you’d like to go to?”

“I’d like to go somewhere local.”

“Local? The food is probably not very good.”

“I think I’d like to go to a pub and have fish and chips or pie.”

There is a silence. “All right. If that’s what you want. I’ll get Sophia to book something.”

“I don’t want to go to a place where we have to book. I just want to turn up, have a drink at the bar then eat in the restaurant.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Maybe we can go somewhere we can bring Storm too.”

“Storm?”

“The husky.”

“You want to bring the dog?”

I giggle. “Yes. I’ll ask around and find a place that allows dogs.”

“Er … right. If that’s what you really want.”

“It’s what I really want.”

“See you later.”

“Bye, Nikolai. And thank you.”