The Double Page 9

  And I realized I knew her face. She was Christina’s personal maid, the one I’d seen mistreated on the airport security footage. And suddenly I knew why the chef had seemed weird.

  The staff weren’t scared of Konstantin. They were scared of me.

  “It’s okay,” I said gently. “I didn’t ring. I don’t need anything.”

  She blinked and searched my face, confused. Then what are you doing here?

  And I realized that what I was doing was wrong. I was meant to be Christina and if Christina kept these people in mortal fear then I had to, as well. I had to snap at her, berate her for nothing at all, and make her cry. I steeled myself—

  The maid looked at me, hopeful but scared. A puppy waiting to be kicked.

  I couldn’t do it. Not even if it meant arousing suspicion. “I came down here to thank you,” I said. “I don’t do that enough.”

  The maid looked doubtful, as if it might be a trick. “You—You’re very welcome, Miss.”

  I realized I had no idea what her name was. “Um. Look, I’m really sorry but you’re going to have to remind me....”

  “Victoria, Miss.” Weirdly, asking her name didn’t seem to surprise her. Knowing Christina, she’d just called her girl or bitch or something.

  “Victoria.” I smiled at her. And she gave me a nervous smile back.

  I retraced my steps back to the main part of the mansion and found a staircase that led down. The mansion extended deep underground. The first basement held the guard’s quarters and the armory. Deeper down, I found an underground garage. And below that….

  The first warning was the stairs. They changed from smooth concrete flights to a rough stone spiral and the walls went from brick to rock. The electric lights ended and were replaced with candles that barely lit the way. I slowly descended, now deep below the earth. “What the hell is this?” I muttered, just to break the eerie silence. But there was no reply from my earpiece. “Calahan?”

  Nothing. I realized that I was so deep, the rock was probably blocking the radio signal. I nearly turned back...but if I wanted to find out Konstantin’s secrets, this seemed like the perfect place to look. I carried on down.

  When I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, I was in a room walled in solid rock. There was a door of dark oak, banded with iron, and I hauled it a little way open. God, it must be a foot thick!

  As soon as the gap was wide enough, I slipped through.

  Oh no.

  18

  Hailey

  I STOOD JUST BEYOND the doorway, not wanting to believe what I was seeing.

  The room was roughly rectangular and about the size of one of the big bedrooms upstairs. But the walls weren’t quite straight: they curved in and out like a frozen sea. The room had been carved out of the rock, the walls chiseled smooth with millions of individual hammer blows. Then the walls had been painstakingly polished so that all those tiny flat surfaces shone like the facets of a diamond, the dark rock reflecting the light from a fireplace until it looked like the walls themselves were on fire. The floor was tiled with white marble, the firelight turning it creamy and warm.

  There was a beautiful four poster bed with cream sheets and a crimson comforter, hung with matching crimson drapes. The wood of the frame was so old that there were no square corners left.

  But what had stopped me in my tracks wasn’t the amazing room, or the bed. It was the rest of the furniture.

  It was in the same style as the bed. Maybe it had even come from the same European palace, hundreds of years ago. It was all handmade, with elaborately carved wood, cold cast iron, and soft scarlet leather. It was beautiful. But terrifying.

  On shaking legs, I started across the room, looking at each piece in turn. A bench that you would kneel on, your lower legs bound and your upper body pressed against the leather. An X-shaped thing you would stand against, your wrists and ankles held by straps. A thing like a gymnastics horse that you would bend over, your ass in the air, legs spread….

  I came to a stop at the end of the room, next to a wooden rack holding whips and riding crops.

  A dungeon. This was a dungeon.

  Which meant Konstantin was into this stuff. I had a sudden vision of Christina bound to one of the benches and Konstantin hulking over her, teasing her and taking her over and over again as she wriggled and begged.

  Except it wasn’t him and Christina, anymore. It was him and me.

  But I’m not into this stuff! I’d tried BDSM once, with a boyfriend. He’d tried to tie my wrists to the bed but the plastic clothesline he’d used wouldn’t hold a knot and kept slipping apart, and he was too timid to be convincingly menacing.

  Konstantin, though...he was plenty menacing. I looked down at the thing I was next to, the one I thought of as the “kneeling bench.” With those big hands, he could absolutely push me onto that thing, naked, my breasts pressed just there, and pin me there while he bound me....

  A drumbeat started inside me, slow but insistent, resonating up into my head and down into my groin. I pushed my hand experimentally against the leather padding. Soft but firm. It was cool against my palm but it warmed to my body in just a few heartbeats. I kept my hand there, transfixed, and the room was so quiet, I could hear that my breathing had gone tight. The drumbeat inside me was building in power, each crash of it radiating out in slow motion, shattering everything in its path.

  I fingered the thick leather straps and buckles. Once he fixed me in place, I’d be helpless. That word felt weirdly powerful, echoing again and again in my head, blending with the rising drumbeat and making me crush my thighs together. Helpless. Tied tight, all I’d be able to do was thrash and plead, and he’d just take me, just utterly, utterly, take me—

  I snatched my hand away, shocked at what was in my head. I have to get out of here. Right now.

  I spun around...and froze. The door was wide open and Konstantin’s huge form was silhouetted in the doorway. He stepped into the light.

  “I should have known I’d find you here,” he told me.

  And he kicked the door closed behind him.

  19

  Hailey

  AS SOON AS the door closed, the atmosphere in the room changed. There was so much rock above us and the door was so thick, we were completely isolated from the rest of the mansion. I could scream and no one would hear me. That should have terrified me but instead I felt the crash of that drum inside me again, just a single loud boom that resonated right to my fingertips and made me ache between my thighs. What the hell is happening to me?

  Konstantin started towards me, each heavy footstep vibrating through the marble floor and up into my body, making me twitch and quiver like a tuning fork. I’d never known anyone to have such a physical effect on me, just by their presence. The effect got stronger the closer he got: before one footstep could die away, the next hit me, setting up harmonics that made my breathing tighten and my heart race. By the time he stood in front of me, I was a panting mess.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  And that was when I realized I wasn’t looking at him, I was focused on his polished black shoes. I wanted to look at him, wanted to see that gorgeous face, fill my senses with his pecs, his shoulders. But for some reason I’d cast my eyes down as soon as he’d approached. It was something about this room.

  Or...was it something about me?

  I lifted my head and looked up at him. Instantly, I was pinned by that glittering, ferociously hot gaze. But there was something else going on, too, something I couldn’t put a name to, something that made the breathless heat inside me tighten and coil all the way down to my groin, where it became slick wetness. Konstantin is big, but I’d never felt so small.

  “Never ask about my work again,” he ordered. “You know better.”

  I nodded quickly. I’ll have to fake this. Because obviously Christina was into this whole BDSM thing, she was some sort of...submissive. So I had to pretend to be, too.

  He leaned down, bringing his lips within a ha
lf inch of my ear. “Undress,” he ordered. And it was an order. He’d done nothing but order me around since he walked in. Each word loaded with weight and power because of who he was, but made slippery silver by that Russian accent, so smooth and beautiful that obeying them was a pleasure. The ss of undress was like silk brushing over my mind.

  I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I’m pretending. Just pretending. For the mission. That’s what this is.

  So why was the heat thrashing inside me, twisting into a spiral and grinding down between my legs? Why was I wetter than I’d ever been?

  I began to take off my clothes.

  20

  Konstantin

  SOMETHING was different.

  I’m what the Americans call a dominant, but I don’t dress it up in fancy terms or over-analyze it like they do. I command. She obeys. Simple.

  I love normal sex, too. The feel of a woman’s body as she thrashes in ecstasy beneath you, breasts stroking your chest. The changes that you can feel come over her as you drive your cock into her. I love the give and take of sex. I don’t need to tie her up.

  But sex like that is the sex of people in love. And love is a weakness. If I had sex like that, with the intimacy and the cuddling afterwards...I might start to feel something.

  So ever since my life was torn apart, I’ve made sure sex is just physical. A release. And the best way to separate it from anything more intimate is with these games. I tie her, I pleasure her, and I take her. I maintain absolute control at all times.

  But now, something had changed.

  Christina was always happy to be tied up. Enthusiastic, even. She played along. But it was just that: playing. Her orgasms were real enough but I could tell she wasn’t getting off on the idea of being restrained.

  But now...where the old Christina would have boldly thrown off her clothes, sticking out her breasts and posing like a stripper, this new Christina was hesitant and nervous. Almost shy. Instead of faking enthusiasm, she acted like she’d never done it before. And yet underneath, in the way her hands trembled, in the flush I could see at her neck, in the tightness of her breathing...she needed it. She had that instinctual urge for this, just as I had the matching, dominant one. And the idea of that, combined with this strange new innocence she had, made my cock harder than it had ever been.

  She pulled her sweater over her head. Her pale breasts strained at the bra...I swore they seemed bigger. And then, as my eyes tracked down her body, I saw the scar. A burn of some kind, low down on her side. I felt a sudden, unexpected surge of protective anger that something had hurt her. But she saw me looking and she...shrunk. Her eyes went to the floor, her hair hanging down to cover her face. She was embarrassed by it. She thought it made her not beautiful. As if such a thing was possible. Her hand went down to cover it and I got even angrier, that she’d been hurt in that way, too.

  I took her wrist and gently pried her hand away.

  Then I leaned in and, very softly, touched my lips to the scar. Her head jerked up in surprise...and then she relaxed a little, her confidence restored.

  I stepped back and the slow strip resumed. She unbuttoned the skirt and wriggled it down over her hips where the old Christina would have expertly twisted like a dancer and made it fall down on its own. I let my eyes roam up and down those beautiful, shapely legs, even found myself trying to get a glimpse of her ass, despite having seen it a hundred times before. It was almost as if I was seeing her for the first time.

  I was so turned on, I didn’t realize at first that she was unbuckling her high heels. She normally always left them on to make her legs look longer. But before I could think to stop her, she’d stepped out of them, and then stripped off her stockings, too, gasping a little as her bare soles hit the cold marble. It was weirdly endearing.

  I caught myself. Don’t think like that.

  She looked up at me, now just in bra and panties.

  I waited.

  She waited.

  I smirked. Of course, it was deliberate. She knew I meant for her to take everything off, but she was trying to turn me on by being a little disobedient. She was cunning, like that. “All of your clothes,” I told her.

  She gave a tiny intake of breath and her eyes went wide. I frowned. Christina’s acting had suddenly gotten a lot better. She really did seem shocked and nervous...and turned on. I didn’t know how she’d done it, but I loved it.

  I watched as her bra slipped free, her breasts bobbing and swaying. They did seem bigger, or maybe I’d just forgotten how beautiful they were. Full and heavy and creamily pale...I couldn’t wait to fill my hands with them.

  Only one little scrap of clothing remained. My eyes locked on that triangle of fabric between her thighs. I couldn’t remember ever having been this turned on, watching her undress. Or watching any woman undress. Since she got back, she had some hold over me….

  I clenched my jaw. Those sorts of feelings could be the end of everything. Maybe I should just tell her to leave. It would be fatal to become attached: our “relationship” was never meant to be that. But...as the fabric started to move down her body, pushed a few millimeters at a time by her shaking hands, I knew there was no way I could do that. I needed to see her, needed to touch her.

  She’d stopped moving the panties. “Go on,” I told her. “Unless you want me to rip them off you.”

  21

  Hailey

  OH GOD. I couldn’t believe I was stripping in front of him. I’d got naked for sex, of course, but that was clothes coming off in a hurried tangle at the last minute, not stripping while being watched.

  The moment when I’d unhooked my bra had been terrifying. What if he doesn’t like me? And yet as soon as it was off and my bare breasts were throbbing in the air, the heat of his gaze just bathed me, washing over the valley of my cleavage and the sides of my breasts, stroking over my nipples. It was a rush like nothing I’d ever experienced. And the way he’d kissed my scar: that had been like a weight lifting from me. I’d been self-conscious about it for my whole adult life.

  Now he wanted my panties gone, too, and I knew it wasn’t an idle threat. He really would rip them off me if I didn’t do it myself. And a little part of me almost wanted to shake my head and refuse so that he’d have to reach down with one big hand and gather them and tug—

  What the hell is wrong with me? I pushed my panties down my thighs and let them fall to the floor, then stepped out of them. I looked up into his eyes….

  He glanced down between my legs and gave a little shake of his head. But he didn’t look angry, like he had in his study. He was smirking. I looked down—

  I hadn’t even been aware of it, but I was holding my hand over my groin to cover myself. And he was telling me that was unacceptable.

  I moved my hand slowly aside and felt the heat of his gaze there. It soaked into me and became a deep, needful ache.

  “You let it grow back,” he murmured, sounding fascinated.

  Oh crap. I’d never even considered that. I keep everything neat, but from the sound of it, Christina must have been waxed completely smooth. I nodded.

  “I like it.” I could hear the growing lust in his voice. He stepped right up to me, until one polished shoe was between my bare feet and the soft fabric of his pant leg was just brushing my pussy lips. He bent to whisper in my ear. “Now,” he said. “Get on the bench. You’re going to show me that you’re still my dirty shlyukha.”

  I didn’t speak Russian but I could have a pretty good guess what shlyukha meant. I followed his gaze to the kneeling bench. As soon as I looked at it, my breathing sped up. A hot rush swept through my body and in its wake I felt a tug. An ache, deep inside me, a need. Maybe it had been there ever since I started watching Konstantin, but I’d never allowed myself to feel it until now. He’s going to tie me up, fuck me, make me his plaything and—

  And I want him to.

  I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me and I was plunging down into scary, wonderful blackness. How cou
ld I not know this about myself?!

  “Get on the bench,” he repeated. He ran his hand down my back, cupped my ass, and pushed me forward.

  The air was suddenly thick and heavy. I could hear my pulse crashing in my ears. I put one knee on the padded leather….

  The door flew open and crashed against the wall.

  22

  Konstantin

  I WHIRLED AROUND and my glare made the guard take a step back. Normally, I wouldn’t be angry at them for interrupting sex. For them to disturb me down here, it had to be an emergency. But I wasn’t thinking clearly...thanks to her.

  “Fire,” said the guard. “Three different places, some injuries at one of them.”

  I turned back to Christina. She was flushing, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. I pulled off my suit jacket and put it round her. “Get the car,” I told the guard. “We’re going out.” He ran off.

  Christina dressed and it was like a reverse strip-tease: little glimpses of bare thigh and curling dark hair as she pulled on her panties, a flash of nipple and soft flesh as she put on her bra. It had me even harder in my pants than when she’d undressed because it was as if her nakedness was being taken from me. By the time she put on her sweater, I was almost panting. What the hell is wrong with me? I like sex, I especially like sex with Christina, but this was something else. I needed her.

  Standing on one leg to put on her heels, she overbalanced. Her hand went to my arm to steady herself and... something happened to me. The sight of her small hand there, the feel of her touching me...it made something swell in my chest. I put my hand on hers, unable to speak.

  She looked up at me, blushing and confused, and I stared down into her eyes. She seemed so light, so good. Innocent, not like Christina at all. I didn’t understand it.