You Don't Own Me (The Russian Don 1)

While we are in the car Molly calls to tell me that she will be around at about seven with new clothes for me. I look at Noah.

‘Is it OK for Molly to come around at seven today?’

‘As long as she is gone by ten. Boss wants you to be at the Matrix at eleven o’clock.’

‘That’s great. I’ll see you then,’ I say, and end the call.

‘What is the Matrix?’ I ask Noah.

‘A club,’ Noah says shortly.

I suppress a sigh. ‘Does it belong to Zane?’

‘Yeah.’

When we get back to the house Noah and I go into the kitchen. Olga is sitting flipping through the pages of a magazine and listening to Russian pop music playing in the background. She grins at us and makes the hand sign of drinking to me to ask if I want a coffee.

I nod.

Noah says something in Russian and she turns towards me with her eyebrows raised and an enquiring look in her eyes. I walk towards her and give her the Harvey Nichols carrier bag.

‘For you,’ I say, my finger wagging at her.

She points at her own chest with her eyebrows raised.

I nod and smile.

She takes the shopping bag from me and opens it, looks inside then looks again in disbelief.

‘Go on take it out.’

She takes the protective white cloth cover off, gasps at the handbag and looks up at Noah. He just raises his eyebrows as if to say, Don’t look at me. This has nada to do with me.

I see her eyes drop to his jacket and she fires something to him in Russian and nods. She turns towards me. Her eyes are misty as she reaches out and rubs her rough palm on my forearm.

I take my coffee and leave them. As soon as the door closes I hear Olga grilling Noah in earnest.

Twenty

Dahlia Fury

Noah goes out into the street to help Molly bring in two rails of clothes on wheels and three cardboard boxes full of shoes, belts and handbags. For nearly two hours Molly stays with me while I try on all the stuff. I learn a lot from her.

She encourages me into styles and shapes and colors that I have spent a lifetime saying no to. She puts me in stripes and matches it with polka dots. She teams orange with red and green with blue. She has even brought me that racy red miniskirt I saw at the back of the van to be worn with knee-high, black wedge boots.

Talking of shoes I suddenly find I have ten fabulous pairs to add to my collection. There are ankle cuff pumps, ink blue leather boots, ballerina flats in geranium-pink glitter material; slip-on calf-skin sneakers, leopard print loafers, white lace-up sandals; pearlescent snakeskin, caged, peep-toe sandals; and strappy leather and raffia sling back platforms. Then Molly reaches into the cardboard box for the last item. With a great sense of drama she opens the shoebox while her hands are inside the cardboard box and slowly lifts her pièce de résistance dangling from her fingers into sight.

‘Oh. My. God!’ I shriek, my hands flying to my cheeks.

It’s a pair of black crystal mesh stiletto Jimmy Choos. Not even in my wildest dreams have I ever dreamt of owning Jimmy Choos!

She puts them on the floor in front of me. ‘These are from their private stock. I only got them because I know someone who knows someone.’

I pick a shoe up and kiss it. ‘It’s so gorgeous. Was it very expensive?’ I whisper.

‘Could have paid off my mortgage with it,’ she whispers back, smiling.

‘Well, I might need you to get me another pair.’

‘One size smaller?’

‘Exactly,’ I agree with a grin that threatens to split my face.

‘Can I become your best friend too?’ she jokes.

‘Honey, I’ll demote my sister to best friend status and you can take her place.’

We giggle like little girls.

After Molly leaves I dress in a black fitted satin mini dress with a high halter neck, illusion-netting diamond cut-out front, and a low scoop back. I wear sheer black thigh-high stockings with lace elastic tops, and my brand new Jimmy Choos. My hair is loose and full of waves, my eyes are extra smoky, and my lips scarlet. Then I slip into a glamorous hooded cream coat with faux fur trim and silky lining. The feel of the silky lining on my bare arms makes a shiver go through me.

Downstairs Noah raises his eyebrows but makes no comment. I’m used to it by now. He escorts me outside, opens the car door, and I slip in. Before he closes it he says suddenly, ‘The boss will like your outfit.’

Before I can thank him, he’s closed the door and gone to sit in the front passenger seat. The Matrix is actually in the same building as Uncle Ho. There is a queue of people to the side of the building and they seem to be entering the club from a different place. The driver parks outside the restaurant entrance, Noah jumps out, opens the door for me, and escorts me towards the door. Yuri stands near it smoking a cigarette. He nods at us and says something to Noah in Russian.