Secrets After Dark (11 page)

It sounds simple enough but still...

‘Just sign it, dear,’ Marcia says in a half whisper. ‘You won’t regret it. And sign this copy too. Then I’ll get Mr Dubrovski to counter-sign, and one copy will be yours. Oh, and you’ll need to give me
your bank details and national insurance number as well.’

I don’t see Dubrovski for the rest of the day, or the next, and I don’t much think about him as I’m quickly absorbed in my task. Marcia is very friendly and keen to chat, talking away without stopping as she sets me up on the computer system and makes sure I’ve got all the back-up I need. But I’m glad that I can escape her when I go to the study and start working my way through the piles of art. First, I’m cataloguing everything and making sure it tallies with the records Mark has given me, noting any discrepancies to be investigated. When that’s done, I’ll start organising the works and making a plan for how they should best be grouped and displayed. I wonder idly if there is an app I can use to allow me to try out my ideas before putting the pictures up. If not, I’ll have to work it out another way.

At lunchtime, Marcia and I eat together at a small table in the kitchen: soup, salad and sandwiches prepared by Sri. There’s no sign of the bodyguard but I assume that he goes wherever Dubrovski goes. Marcia is friendly enough company but she chatters on and on, hardly waiting for a reply and often contradicting herself, and I can’t get quite over how her lipstick is always over the edges of her mouth and her hair is swept about in all directions and pinned into place without any symmetry. Does she get ready without looking in a mirror? She doesn’t seem to be like the kind of person Andrei Dubrovski would like to have around him, with his obvious penchant for tidiness and order, but I soon learn that although Marcia might look a bit all over the place, her mind is a steel trap. She knows exactly what’s going on, and organises Andrei’s London diary with ease, coordinating with his assistants in other parts of the world and clearly boss of all of them.

What she doesn’t do is say anything about Dominic, or, in fact, much about Andrei’s work at all. She’s happy to talk about her cat all day but she barely mentions her job. At first I’m on the edge of my seat whenever she answers the phone, hoping I might hear Dominic’s name or get some clue about when he’s coming back, but Marcia gives nothing away, and she often talks in Russian or French, which of course I can’t follow. There’s still been no news from Dominic himself.

Be patient, I tell myself.
He’s busy. Just wait.

‘What on earth is going on with you, I’ve hardly seen you!’ Laura says when I get home that Friday night, exhausted from my first two days. ‘Tell me everything.’

I tell her about how easily I can lose myself as I work through Andrei Dubrovski’s beautiful art collection. I’ve already stumbled across a few treasures, including a lovely collection of framed Hogarth prints that I think will look wonderful as a group, perhaps in the hall.

‘And what’s he like?’ Laura asks, clutching her knees to her chest as she sits on the sofa, her eyes wide. ‘Imagine working for someone like him! I Googled him during my lunch hour and pulled up some very sexy shots. Quite the tough guy, isn’t he? And I’ve always liked blonds. Is he very hot close up?’

‘Hot?’ I echo, surprised. Of course I’ve noticed how he looks but I haven’t thought of him that way. Ever since I met Dominic, I haven’t found anyone else worth a candle compared to him. But as I picture Andrei, I remember the molten energy that exudes from him and the charisma that draws every eye in the room. Even though he isn’t exactly handsome, the power and experience in his face endow him with some peculiar quality that makes you want to look at him. And while the angular nose and square jutting chin ought to look too much, those large features somehow enhance him, making him look more wilful and determined.

Laura rolls her eyes. ‘Come on! I saw those pictures and thought... imagine him in bed, I bet he’s a complete powerhouse!’

‘I didn’t know you liked them like that,’ I tease. ‘Big, muscly, scary types. You’ve always gone for the nerdy ones, haven’t you?’

Laura makes a face at me. ‘So I prefer brains over brawn,’ she retorts, then says dreamily, ‘but even so, I wouldn’t mind a man like that taking me to bed.’

I’m quiet for a moment, remembering Andrei’s piercing looks, the way his laser-beam glare moved up and down my body so that I could almost feel it on my skin. It was curiously unsettling, as though we were being intimate without even doing anything.

‘Hey, you’re not feeling a little unfaithful to Dominic, I hope!’ Laura laughs, her eyes bright as she watches my expression.

‘Of course not!’ I say quickly. I envisage Dominic’s dark eyes, liquid with desire, and at once my stomach twists in a delightful knot of lust.
That’s good.
Just for a second, I was worried that Laura might have awakened me to something about Andrei that I hadn’t been aware of – but I know for sure that Dominic is everything I want in a man. It isn’t just that he’s beautiful and intensely desirable, it’s everything else too: his intelligence, charm and wit. The way he drinks his coffee or casually flings one arm along the sofa when he reads the paper, or the way he laughs. I love the way he grew up all over the world and knows about people and places I’ve never visited. And I love that he loves me too, that he’s fired by the same intense longing for me as I am for him. It’s a miracle that someone so amazing would feel as enraptured by me as I do by him, but I’ve seen the emotion in his eyes, felt it in the way he holds me and makes love to me.

But there is his darker side, of course. Do I love that too?

The truth is, I can’t imagine Dominic without that darker side, even though I know that it’s something in him that he’s been trying to resist, especially after what happened between us. Would he be the same if he were tamed? Would sex be as deeply, dangerously exciting if I knew that he would never try to push me to my limits? It was amazing that night in the monastery fuelled by nothing more than intense desire, but I know that if we were together again, we would soon have to confront the realities of Dominic’s sexual needs.

And mine? What do I want?

I can’t imagine a life with Dominic that doesn’t include the powerful force of his instincts. As I think about it, I’m gripped with desperate longing for him.

I just want him back. Soon.

Chapter Eight

Laura and I have a relaxing weekend together, mostly watching television on the sofa and making endless cups of tea as we both recover from our working weeks. I try not to spend time obsessing over my stubbornly silent phone. The only time it rings, it’s my mother wanting to hear my news. I tell her about my new job and she is impressed but glad it’s temporary. I think she prefers the sound of Mark to this new Russian stranger that’s come into my life.

I decide on Sunday night that if I haven’t heard from Dominic by the end of the week, I’m going to have to do something drastic, though I don’t quite know what. Then I try to put him out of my mind and concentrate on my new job.

I’m in the study that Monday morning, lost in my work, when Andrei comes in. Instantly I stop what I’m doing and get up.

‘No, please, carry on,’ Andrei says. ‘I want to watch you.’

Feeling a little awkward, I pick up the print I was appraising and take another look at it.

‘What do you think about that one?’ he asks.

‘It’s a very fine example,’ I reply enthusiastically. I’ve been thinking about prints all morning. ‘And made by a very famous nineteenth-century printmaker, around about 1870. The frame dates from the same time, I think, and it’s part of a set of four, all showing views of Derbyshire.’

‘Mark got me those,’ he says, scrutinising it.

‘I’m not surprised, they’re splendid.’

He nods as though satisfied. ‘And have you found anything for my bathroom yet?’

‘Not yet. I’m not quite at that stage. But I will.’

Andrei smiles. ‘I’m looking forward to whatever you discover. But in the meantime, I’d like you to do a little job for me. Something that is rather beyond Marcia’s capabilities.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’d like you to get a gift for a friend of mine. A close friend. I’d like her to have a piece of jewellery, something beautiful, and I’d like you to choose it for me.’ He shrugs lightly. ‘I do not have time for such things. Sometimes they choose for me, sometimes I have things sent to me. But as you’re here, I’d like to make use of your expertise.’

I blink at him, astonished. I’ve never seen evidence of a wife or girlfriend, and this place is very much a bachelor pad, so I’ve just assumed that Andrei is one of those men obsessed by his work and with no time for a relationship. But of course a billionaire businessman is going to have a lover. Why wouldn’t he? But how am I supposed to go about choosing whoever it is a present?

‘Will you do this?’ he asks, looking closely at me. ‘I would be very grateful.’

‘Well, yes, if you’d like me to.’ Something in me is telling me I ought to have an objection, but I can’t think what it is. After all, he’s asked me to work for him on the basis of my artistic taste. This seems to be an extension of that, in a way.

He smiles at me. ‘Good. I wish you to select two things; don’t worry about the price. Whatever appeals to you.’

‘You ought to tell me a little about who it’s for, so I have an idea of what she might like.’

He looks surprised, and then says, ‘I suppose you’re right. Very well. She is beautiful, naturally. And with an aristocratic heritage, from a cultured background. Her family managed to survive the Revolution but, of course, without their grand estate or the money from their glory days. She is rather sentimental about what they once had, though it was long before she was born.’ He laughs lightly. ‘I like that. A century ago, she would have been a countess or a duchess, and I would probably have been her footman or a groom. Now her family lives in a shabby Moscow apartment, while I fuck her in my French villa or my dacha or wherever I feel like it. She opens her legs for me, the poor boy from the slums who started with nothing. Besides the fact that she is a very fine lover, knowing that I’m enjoying a daughter of privilege adds a certain sense of victory to the proceedings.’

I stare at him, shocked. I’ve always been careful to keep a professional distance with Andrei but here he is, using this language, putting pictures in my mind. I see them now, on a bed, naked, his broad back and strong legs moving as he thrusts into his high-bred Russian beauty. She is open to him, surrendering, unable to resist his power. His expression is impassive but his blue eyes burn with intensity as he takes possession of her, satisfying his furious desires, overwhelming her as he takes his pleasure and drives her to her peak.

He’s watching my face closely. ‘Does that help?’

I nod, trying to blank the pictures from my mind. With those few words, a line has been crossed between us. I feel as though he has pulled me into an intimacy with him that I cannot retreat from.

‘Good. Show me later what you have bought. Ask Marcia for a credit card.’

Thirty minutes later, armed with a matt-black credit card, I’m walking under the covered walkway towards the back entrance of Albany.

This is too weird.
I shake my head disbelievingly.
How have I ended up doing this?

I let myself out with the card key Marcia gave me and emerge by Savile Row with its ranks of gentlemen’s tailors. Bond Street stretches away to my left and I head that way. I already know that window fronts along there glitter with astonishing gems. I’ve often wondered if there are enough wealthy people in the world to keep so many jewellers in business but there must be, as the emeralds, diamonds and rubies keep sparkling away in their multi-thousand-pound settings.

I walk past a few, looking at the red satin cushions with their treasures displayed behind the reinforced glass. They twinkle alluringly but somehow I’m not attracted to them. Then, further along, I see a different kind of place, its windows packed with antique jewels of all descriptions, from fat ropes of creamy pearls to diamond tiaras, as well as signet rings, cufflinks, ornate silver frames and more. It’s like a proverbial Aladdin’s cave, or the haul from a Spanish treasure ship. I go to the window and look more closely. Here the jewels nestle on dark blue velvet or in vintage cream-satin-lined cases. This is more the kind of thing I like.

And Andrei sent me because he likes my taste, after all...

A uniformed guard stands at the door. He opens it politely as I approach, perhaps wondering if I’m really the sort of person who will be buying much in this shop, though he doesn’t show it on his face. I go up to the nearest counter where a slightly bored-looking young man in a black tailcoat is rearranging a display of diamond rings.

‘Yes, madam?’ he says, a touch of dismissal in his voice. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Perhaps you can. I’m looking for something on behalf of Andrei Dubrovski—’

The change is rapid and remarkable. The assistant becomes instantly alert and full of eagerness to help me. ‘Oh, madam, please, this way. Let me show you to a table, I’m sure I can bring you some pieces you’ll be interested in...’

Within moments, I’m in a position of honour, assistants scurrying everywhere to bring me trays of jewels to examine, and I’m having a ball. I’m surrounded by a fortune, but the prettiest fortune I will ever see: necklaces, earrings, brooches, cameos, vintage Tiffany, Cartier, Victorian parures, delicate Regency tiaras. It’s all gorgeous.