The Russian Billionaire: A Romantic Suspense Novel by Georgia Carre (readict .TXT) 📕

“Do I have a hundred and thirty thousand?” he asks hopefully, glancing around at the men.

“One million,” I call.

A hush of disbelief falls over the crowd. The blonde turns towards me, in her oval face, her eyes are huge with shock. Then the well-oiled publicity machine that Stephan pays for bursts into life and countless cameras throw their flashes at Raine Fillander.

In the white light that bathes her, I see that her eyes are blue.

Sapphire blue.

Raine

The flashes from the cameras that suddenly appear out of nowhere disorientate and startle me. I feel myself shrink back from the blast. What is going on? Surely, I can’t have heard right. Then I hear the Emcee, who must also have been in shock, announce, “I have one million. Do I hear one million and ten thousand?”

There is a pause. Followed by silence.

“Going once. Going twice. Sold to Mr. Konstantin Tsarnov.”

The entire room breaks into applause. I see a woman in a black dress head in the direction of Konstantin Tsarnov to take his details. My mind is blank as I force a smile and turn towards the direction I had been instructed I must head towards after my stint on the stage. The other two girls who went before me stare at me with a mixture of surprise and hostility.

“Do you know him?” one of them demands.

I shake my head in a daze. In my mind’s eye, I can still see him, leaning back in his chair, staring at me as if he is the devil himself.

“Well, congratulations,” the redhead mutters.

“Thanks,” I reply automatically as if I have actually won something.

I feel a touch on my shoulder and turn to see Catherine Moriarty. She is glowing with satisfaction. “Come with me.”

I turn and follow her into a large room with stacked chairs and tables around the walls. She closes the door and turns to me.

“I knew I made the right decision with you,” she gushes excitedly.

“What’s going on? Why did he bid a million?”

“Judging from the amount of photographers out there, I’d hazard a guess it is a profile-raising stunt. I hear he has some bad publicity coming his way, and his publicist might have figured this would be a way of white washing the coming bad news.”

“What does it mean for us… me?”

“Nothing,” she replies calmly. “We change nothing. Follow the plan I’ve outlined. If you look into your banking app now you will see that the first payment should already be in your account. As agreed the next payment will appear when you successfully complete the exchange.” She hands over the black purse slung over her shoulder. “The painting is in here, and the map of his apartment and detailed instructions will be in an email to you.”

I take the purse and hold it awkwardly in my hands. “Will he call me about the dinner date?”

Her mouth twists. “His secretary will probably call to arrange a time and place.”

I nod. “Right.”

“Any more questions?”

I shake my head. To be honest, I feel quite strange and light-headed. As if all this is happening to someone else and I’m just watching.

“You have my number if you have any other questions or need clarifications on anything… and Raine… congratulations.”

Then she leaves me standing in the middle of that deserted store room stacked with unused chairs and tables. I stand there for a while thinking of his eyes. They are cold and cynical. The eyes of a man who has seen it all and doesn’t like what he has seen.

I have a feeling I am not going to like him, which is just as well because I’m about to steal his painting. There is a sick feeling in my stomach when the reality of the thought hits me. Until now there was a chance he would pick someone else, but this is it now. He picked me.

I’m about to become a thief.

Raine

“Please be careful, Raine. If anything at all looks risky or not right just leave.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be very careful.”

My mother wrings her hands anxiously. “Yes, yes, I know you are always very careful, that’s your nature, but you will be extra careful tonight, won’t you?”

“I’ll be super careful, I promise.”

She nods distractedly. “Do you think your neckline’s a bit low?”

I laugh through the nervousness I feel. “If I dress like a nun, he’s hardly going to invite me back to his place, is he?”

My mother takes a deep breath. “Yes, yes, of course. You look lovely, but maybe you should wear a necklace or a scarf.”

I grasp my mother’s hand in mine. “Stop it, Mom. The whole damn world knows I’m going out on a date with him, he’s hardly going to try anything. Even if he catches me trying to steal his painting I don’t think he will report me to the police. It’ll spoil his big PR stunt.”

My mother chews her bottom lip nervously. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But you will be careful anyway, won’t you?”

“I will.” I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Now will you please stop making me nervous. It’s hard to play the part of a Jezebel when your stomach is churning.”

My mother cracks a smile, but her eyes fill with tears. She reaches out her hand and strokes my hair. “When your father left, I thought I would die. There were so many bills, so many debts. How was I going to bring up two girls on my own? But you know what. It has been a breeze because of you. You pulled your weight even when you were tiny.” Her lips tremble, tears pour down her face, and her voice breaks. “You cleaned, you polished, you ironed, you made breakfast. And as soon as you were old enough you babysat, you walked dogs. You did anything you could to help me. And right now I feel like the biggest failure because you are going out to sacrifice yourself