The Russian's Tenacious Lover

by Nic Saint

  “I just don’t want her to screw up this job. If her task is to remain by our side, that’s where she should be.”

  “She’ll do as she’s told. I asked her to distract Rostislav, and that’s exactly what she will do.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to steal back your pearls. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “It is, but I’m not entirely sure what you expect from me.”

  “Make yourself available to me. That’s all I want, Glynis.”

  These words, accompanied by a dark look, almost made her giddy. Instead, she directed a regal look at the throngs of people milling about inside the main ballroom. She recognized quite a few of them, and when a waiter floated by with a tray of champagne flutes, she gratefully accepted one from Thomas and put the bubbly to her lips before she lost the nerve to mingle. Even though these people were her peers, she hadn’t seen most of them in years, and being a police officer certainly hadn’t augmented her social status in these circles.

  “You look positively uncomfortable,” Thomas softly remarked.

  “I really don’t want to be here,” she said, spotting an old friend and directing a smile at her. The friend didn’t come over, which told her exactly how she must feel about her. “Most of these people don’t like me very much.”

  “Why is that?”

  She lifted her slender shoulders in a dismissive gesture. “I’m a copper, remember? For some reason, they seem to feel it’s beneath them to associate with an officer of the force. And then of course I might know things about them. Things they’d rather hide.”

  “Things like?”

  “Tax schemes. Business deals. Who knows? Just their imagination, I’m afraid.”

  “But perhaps you do know all their secrets,” he suggested.

  “Even if I could find out, I wouldn’t care. All I’ve ever cared about—”

  “Was catching the elusive Shadow,” he completed her sentence. He discreetly turned her, his hand wandering along her arm. “And now that you’ve got your man, what are you going to do with him?”

  She blinked at his intense scrutiny. “I—I don’t know yet.”

  His lips twitched up into a smirk. “Liar. You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you? Make sure I pay for my crimes.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

  “You’re still going to pull off this job, aren’t you?” She didn’t like the way their positions had reversed, her in the role of the beggar, he bestowing the gifts.

  His eyebrow shivered. “I told you I would, didn’t I? I may be a lot of things, Glynis, but I’m not a liar.”

  With these words, he suddenly pushed closer, and placed a kiss on her temple, then whispered, “Come. It’s time.”

  She searched around for her father, then saw him chatting amiably with Lord Crocket. Following in Thomas’ footsteps, she noticed her heart rate had skyrocketed. She wondered how he managed to remain so calm and poised. They hadn’t even started on the job yet, and already she was a nervous wreck.

  Then they were streaking down a long corridor and sweeping along a portrait gallery that held the most hideous portraits of the most hideous people. Rostislav Mamykin’s relatives, she surmised.

  She noticed the gallery was devoid of people, and wondered if Rostislav wouldn’t keep any guards around. But before she could voice the concern, they’d arrived at the end of the corridor, and Thomas was bringing out a small pouch and selecting a gleaming metal pick. Fascinated, she watched as he inserted the pick into the lock. Mere moments later, they were inside. He drew her in, then closed the door.

  He flipped a switch, and she saw that they’d entered a small bedroom.

  She stared dumbly at the bed. It was small and simple. Nothing fancy, and definitely out of place in the house of the richest man in Britain. The room itself was equally spartan. Four whitewashed walls, a small cross suspended over the bed, a crooked side table serving as a nightstand, a sagging cabinet the only item of furniture.

  “Where are we?” she asked, hardly believing this would be Mamykin’s bedroom. Unless the man liked to live like a monk. Somehow, she doubted it.

  He didn’t reply, quickly walking over to the bed and testing it.

  She frowned. What was he up to?

  “I don’t think the safe is in here, Tom.”

  He gazed up at her. “No, it isn’t. But it’s a start.”

  “A start? A start of what?” He wasn’t making any sense.

  He gestured to the bed. “This is where it all started for Rostislav. This is the bed the great man was conceived in.”

  “Come again?”

  Thomas grinned. “This isn’t merely a bedroom, darling. This is the first exhibit in the Mamykin private museum. Everything you see in here is exactly the way it was when Rostislav was conceived. He has several rooms in this mansion, all representing key moments in his life. Going from room to room is like taking a journey back in time, revisiting Mamykin’s journey through life.”

  He frowned as he surveyed the sparse space. “I’m sure that somewhere along this route the pearls are kept. Rostislav doesn’t keep a central vault like most people do. He likes to scatter his wealth across the mansion, hiding it in plain sight. He believes that by scattering priceless gems along his life’s journey, he will make sure he not only keeps his current wealth, but adds to it, as well.”

  “The man is crazy!” she exclaimed.

  Thomas shrugged. “Eccentric, to be sure.”

  “But where are the pearls? You must have some clue?”

  “All I know is that he told me he would keep them close to his heart.” Thomas pointed to the bed. “His heart has always been with his mother, so I figured Mrs. Mamykin’s former bedroom might not be a bad place to start.”

  Glynis stared at the bed, then back at Thomas. Christ, she thought. They really had their work cut out for them.

  “How many rooms are there?”

  “One for each key moment in Rostislav’s life. Twelve in all.”

  Her courage dropped to its lowest ebb, then she rebounded. Walking up to the bed, she crouched down to look underneath. “Let’s get a move on, then,” she suggested, peeking under the bed and finding nothing.

  “As you say,” agreed Thomas lightly. “Let’s get a move on.”

  CHAPTER 23

  They’d searched everywhere, and still hadn’t found a clue as to where the pearls might have been hidden. Thomas distinctly remembered Rostislav telling him he kept the pearls close to his heart, and since this room represented his heart as much as any of the other eleven, he was certain they were in here somewhere.

  Finally, hidden inside the bedpost, he found them.

  Tapping it with his knuckle, he discovered it hollowed out.

  With a surge of excitement, he studied the top closely, then slipped a small pen knife from his pocket and dug into the seam. The top came off easily, and when he shone down his penlight, he found the purple pouch.

  Lifting it out gently, he opened it.

  “You found them!” cried Glynis happily, and was by his side to join in the excitement.

  He felt the shivers of anticipation running up and down his body, the customary thrill of the find never tiring, and now could see it on her face as well. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation.

  He peeled open the flap of the pouch and a ruby, big as an egg, rolled onto his palm.

  “Wow,” said Glynis in a low voice, the astonishment at seeing the rare gem drowning out her disappointment. “That’s one hell of a gem, Tom.”

  “It is,” he murmured, studying the stone carefully. It was flawless, its heft and cut conveying a value of over ten million pounds sterling. “And quite valuable, too.”

  Staring down at the gemstone, he felt its allure—the temptation to let it slip into his pocket. Looking up, he could see the same sentiment reflected on Glynis’ face. She, too, felt the stone’s magical power exerting its pull.

 
“Want to snatch it?” she suggested, and he lifted a brow in surprise.

  Then, realizing she was way out of line, she put one hand over her eyes and waved with the other. “Put it away, Tom. Put it away before I lose control!”

  “So you’re feeling it too?” he muttered.

  “Yes, yes, I feel it!” she admitted. She was clearly annoyed at having been caught coveting another’s property. Not a good quality for a Scotland Yard cop, Thomas thought, and smiled to himself. Then he tucked the stone back into its snug pouch and pushed it back inside the bed post, securing the top and stepping away with a sigh of wistfulness.

  “Such a nice gem,” Glynis murmured beside him, and for a moment they stood spellbound. Then Thomas found her hand sneaking into his, and as he whirled her into his arms, they both descended upon the bed, his lips crashing down on hers, and his body pinning her down, a sudden heat enveloping them and holding them in its fiery grip.

  “God, Tom, please take me,” she breathed. “Do me right here and now!”

  Surprised by the vernacular, Thomas decided that perhaps ‘doing’ it in Mother Mamykin’s bed was not the best course of action right now, but the fire that held her in its grip extended to him, and even as he thought this was too risky, he was already throwing caution to the wind, and then his hand was slipping aside the front of her dress, and cupping her naked breast in his hand, drawing a gasp from her at the sensation of flesh on flesh. Their mouths connected, and her tongue stole into his mouth, exploring and eagerly offering herself to him.

  He shrugged out of his pants as she was tugging up her dress, then slipping the crotch of her panties aside.

  “Quickly, Tom,” she urged, one eye on the door. “Do it quickly!”

  As Glynis felt his hardness, she gasped with the thrill of the moment and the pure sensation of desire washing over her, and then they were one, her lower belly on fire, the fury too hard to resist, the whisper of her flesh and the song of her sex calling out to him and overpowering every ounce of common sense.

  She was wet, she knew, slick and glistening, and when he entered her, she arched back, then slipped her legs around his waist, urging him on, and then she met him thrust for thrust. As she curled her fingers in his hair, she moaned as his kisses descended on her neck, her throat, then her bosom, nipping at her breasts, drawing them to peaks of pleasure.

  Their mouths joined again while their sex connected and he curved inside her, deeper and eliciting more pleasure with each motion, and then she was on the verge and tipping over into the void of the deepest pleasure she’d ever known. Crying out his name, she panted, her eyes misty with desire and pleasure, reflecting her exquisite lust, and only when the lock turned in the door, did they stir from their madness and realize they were in a very compromising position.

  Scrambling from the bed, they rolled onto the carpet, then shuffling underneath, still connected, his girth buried deeply inside her belly. As they tried to stifle their ragged breathing, the door swung open, and she could see two pairs of feet appear in the door, a pair of oxfords and a pair of heels.

  She frowned as she thought she recognized the woman’s shoes. They were studded with rhinestones, the straps burgundy atop the milky satin of the shoe.

  Then the woman spoke, and she could hardly muffle a gasp of shock.

  “Oh, Rostislav!” Jenn gasped, and suddenly she saw a dress being flung to the floor, falling in a heap at the girl’s feet, and then the man’s pants followed the same trajectory.

  “You are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, Jennifer,” Rostislav grunted in a hoarse voice. “How come we never met before, I wonder?”

  “I wonder too, Rosti.”

  “Is it really true that you’re a virgin?”

  “It is,” she said coyly. “You will be my first, Rosti. Do you mind?”

  “Do I?” he grunted, then the bed springs creaked as two bodies descended upon it, and Glynis’ mouth opened in an expression of shock. “I will conceive our first baby in this bed, Jenn. The bed of my mama. The same bed I was conceived in myself!”

  “Oh, how romantic!” giggled Jenn, then moaned. “Oh, Rosti!”

  Suddenly, Glynis felt Thomas stirring inside her once again, aroused by the sounds of lovemaking right above their heads.

  She moved with him in the cramped space, and as they ground against each other, their mouths connected, his hands pressing her arms down above her head, their bodies writhing, she let out a soft moan that was muffled by Jenn’s squeaking cries above them. In sync with the young woman’s first climax, she felt the familiar sensations racing through her body as Thomas’ thickness filled her, eliciting so much pleasure she was crested over into the throes of the most powerful climax she’d experienced in a long time.

  Then, just when Jenn screeched out her pleasure, she was slammed back into the oblivion of her own, Thomas descending upon her with so much love and lust that she had a hard time remembering why she’d hated him so much in the first place.

  “Now I show you my treasure,” a voice above them said.

  “Oh, I’d like that, Rosti,” chirped Jenn. “I’d like that very much.”

  There was a shuffling of feet, a zipping up of pants and dress, and then the door swung open and closed again, and they were alone once more.

  Glynis couldn’t suppress her mirth any longer, and she erupted in a deep guffaw, mimicked only by Thomas’ bark of laughter. Clinging to each other, still pinned beneath the bed, they laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks.

  Then, finally, she reluctantly whispered, “Perhaps we should move to the next room?”

  “Perhaps we should,” he murmured, kissing her bedewed cheeks as he brushed wet strands from her brow. “You look lovely, Glynis. More lovely than any gem I’ve ever held in my hand.”

  “Well, you’re holding this gem, aren’t you?” she whispered back.

  He smiled. “Yes, I am, and much to my astonishment.”

  “I thought you said you would have me, one way or the other?”

  “I was merely expressing a wish, my darling.”

  “Pity,” she riposted. “I would have had no other recourse than to throw myself at your mercy.”

  They laughed again, then wriggled from under the bed, adjusted their dress, and then Thomas was enveloping her in a gentle embrace, his kiss tender this time, but insistent still.

  She loved him, she knew. Too bad he was a thief, and she a cop, and they could never be together, or else this would have been a match made in heaven.

  “Come on,” he finally said, taking her hand. “Let’s find your mother’s pearls.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Arriving in the next room, Glynis saw that it was decorated like a children’s room, a small bunk bed near the door, posters of unknown heroes adorning the walls. She spotted a picture of Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space. She also saw pictures of soccer teams and sports heroes and smiled. “Don’t tell me. Rostislav’s bedroom when he was a boy?”

  “He and his brother.” He pointed to the closet. “Search well and search quickly, my darling. We don’t have much time and ten more rooms to go.”

  “All right,” she agreed, and started on the bed. Watching the small bunk bed, she hoped Rostislav and Jenn wouldn’t step in here, for there wasn’t enough space to hide underneath.

  She tapped the bedposts, but found them massive. No place to hide any jewels in there. Then a cry from Thomas had her look up.

  He was kneeling next to a children’s desk. “I think I’ve found something.”

  He opened a small drawer. Crouching beside him, she watched with bated breath as he lifted another purple pouch from the recesses of the desk, and opened it. An exquisite silver brooch appeared, inlaid with jade. She bit her lip in disappointment and admiration both.

  Whoever this Rostislav character was, he certainly had a keen eye for gems. This one was as extraordinary as the first.

  “So this is not his heart, mh?”

  “I guess not,” said
Thomas, eyeing the gem with a glittering eye.

  She folded her hand over his. “Let’s move on, Tom.”

  “Yes, let’s,” he agreed. With an effort, he restored the pouch to its hiding place.

  Since there was no point staying here, they quickly opened the connecting door to the next room and stepped inside.

  Glynis had the distinct impression she was being pulled back in time, the room decorated like the ballroom of a hotel sometime in the seventies, ornate chandeliers adorning the ceiling, paintings of old masters lining the walls, and socialist symbols thrown in for good measure; the place looked like the ballroom of a Moscow hotel during the height of the Communist era.

  “What is this place?” she inquired as she glanced around at the opulence and the decadence on display.

  “This is where Rostislav asked his first wife for her hand.”

  She eyed Thomas curiously. “How do you know so much about the man?”

  He merely smiled an enigmatic smile. “I’ll tell you later. First let’s find the pearls, shall we?”

  He’d taken her hand, and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. The softness and the tenderness elicited a strong yearning to be back in his arms, but she fought it valiantly. They had a job to do, and not much time to do it in.

  They spread out in the wide space, her heels clacking on the parquet floor. She wondered with a frown how they would ever find anything in here. The place was devoid of furniture, the only decoration the crystal chandeliers descending from the ceiling and piecrust tables holding flutes of champagne aloft. As she touched them, she found that the liquid wasn’t real, the glasses glued to the tables. The whole place gave the impression of a ballroom, but the lack of people lent it an eerie sensation.

  She wandered the room idly, trying to figure out where the man could have hidden the pearls. Close to his heart, she mused. His first marriage must have been very close to his heart indeed.

  She studied the paintings on the walls. Stepping up to the one of the father of the Soviet Union, Vladimir Lenin, she frowned as she noticed Lenin’s left eye was brighter than the other. Drawing up a chair, she precariously balanced on top until her face was level with that of Vladimir. And then she saw it.