The Billionaire's Affair: Billionaire Brothers (Tycoon Billionaires Book 2)

by Farrell, Julie

  “Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Anna said. “We were just about to find somewhere private, weren’t we, Joseph?”

  Joseph clinked his Champagne glass against hers. “We were.”

  Sarah’s mind unravelled. Change of plan: Joseph could keep Mrs Orlov occupied, while she and Dylan had a look around. “Er, do you live here with your son?” Sarah asked. “It’s a truly beautiful home.”

  “This is our London home, yes.”

  Dylan turned on the charm. “I’d sure love a tour, Mrs Orlov, if we’re allowed? Me and Sarah are currently in the process of buying a new place in London and we need some inspiration. Right, honey?”

  Sarah nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Joseph draped his arm around Anna’s shoulders. He spoke quietly in her ear, but loud enough for Sarah and Dylan to hear. “Why don’t we give my brother and his wife a quick tour, then we can sneak off and I can ravish you?”

  She smiled coolly at Joseph. “Yes.” She looked down her nose at Sarah and Dylan. “Come this way.”

  Sarah shot Dylan an apprehensive glance. He smiled reassuringly and held her hand. Just act cool. We’re not doing anything wrong… this is for Ivan…

  They all walked up the huge marble staircase, and Anna led them along a lavish corridor that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a royal palace. Dylan pretended to be interested in the expensive art that hung from the walls.

  “You have exquisite taste, Anna,” Dylan said. “Unless I’m mistaken, this is an original Standinsky painting. It must be priceless?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It hung in the Tsar’s palace before the Revolution. But now we Orlovs have acquired it.”

  Dylan chatted politely with her about the intricate brushstrokes and colours. Sarah was impressed by his knowledge of art, but she was even more impressed with Anna’s audacity – it was obvious that this painting should’ve been hanging in a museum in Russia for the people to enjoy.

  After showing them a couple of quite dull-looking guest rooms, Anna threw open the next sturdy door. “And this is Vlad’s office.”

  Dylan strode inside. “Interesting. This is exactly the sort of office I’ve been imagining for myself.”

  Anna threw him a skeptical glance. “Really, Mr Quinlan?”

  It seemed unlikely. Vlad’s tastes leaned towards the extravagant – the polished mahogany floor, heavy embroidered drapes, and gothic furniture hardly seemed like Dylan’s style. This office reflected Vald’s opinions of himself – a cut above the rest; deserving of the most opulent and expensive things. The solid antique desk was gilded with brass; the walls were covered in decadent canvases and gold-plated frames.

  “Is there a safe in here?” Sarah blurted. Her face flashed with guilt and she cursed herself for letting her nerves burst out.

  “Er, yeah,” Dylan said. “Because I’m hoping to get a good quality safe for my office, right? And I find your son’s tastes so inspiring.”

  Joseph pulled Mrs Orlov close and nuzzled her neck, hoping to distract her from Sarah’s faux pas.

  It seemed to work. She laughed at Joseph’s attention, softening at his touch. “Yes, I think the safe is in that closet over there. And now I insist we must continue with the tour.”

  Sarah held up her hands. “Oh, but–”

  “No,” Anna demanded. “Now. We leave this room now.”

  Sarah glanced at Dylan. She guessed from Anna’s tense demeanour and desperation to get them out of here that this must be where the precious blueprint was currently being stored. Over there in the safe. They were so close, but it felt like miles away. How the hell were they going to get at it?

  “Okay,” Dylan said calmly. “We’d love to see more of your home.”

  He draped his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and they all strolled back out into the hallway. Anna closed the office door firmly. “And along here we have the games room…”

  They followed her along the plush corridor. Sarah’s palms itched with the feeling that they were heading in the wrong direction. Away from their mission. But Dylan suddenly halted in front of another priceless painting and inspected it.

  “Hmm… the ambience in this painting really expresses the emotional state of the artist at the time. The colours, brushstrokes, and contours speak volumes, telling me how –”

  Joseph reached out and massaged Anna’s shoulders. He practically purred into her ear. “Hey, shall we go somewhere more private? Your bed-chamber for example?”

  She melted at his touch. “Oh yes… I’d love to show you my bed.”

  “Well… I’d love to see it.”

  Joseph tugged her hand, but Anna turned to speak to Dylan and Sarah, as if she planned to warn them to stay away from the office.

  Joseph interjected by wrapping her in his arms. “Come on, Anna. I need to kiss those gorgeous lips of yours. And everywhere else on your wonderful body.”

  “Oh, but I should show your brother back down–”

  Anna whooped and squealed as Joseph picked her up in both arms. Sarah could see she was heavier than the women Joseph was accustomed to sweeping off their feet, but he managed to remain unruffled. He kissed her passionately on the lips. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you won’t even be able to remember your own name!”

  Anna giggled girlishly, then threw Dylan and Sarah a slightly threatening glance as Joseph carried her off down the corridor. Sarah and Dylan stood there frozen, waiting for the footsteps and laughter to fade.

  Sarah unfroze first. “He’s turning into the perfect Quinlan man, isn’t he?”

  “What, you mean charming, fun, delightful?”

  “Manipulative, dominating, pushy…”

  Dylan pulled her into his arms. “I think she’s more than happy to let my brother give her something enjoyable.” He kissed Sarah hard, causing lust to surge through her body. “How about we make our mark in here? Let’s go back to Orlov’s office – you could crawl on the desk on all-fours and I can claim you like a lion.”

  She breathed hard, pushing away her arousal. “Dylan… We need to get that safe open before Anna comes back.”

  He cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Yeah, okay. We can fuck like animals later.”

  Sarah laughed at his one-track mind, then they held hands and sped back down the hallway, where they snuck into the office like a couple of thieves – which was precisely what they intended to be. Sarah watched as Dylan strode over and threw open the antique closet. There was a free-standing steel box inside, about the size of a microwave oven. He ran his hands over it, but it was as impenetrable as a block of wood.

  Sarah closed the heavy office door – hopefully ensuring they wouldn’t get caught – then she strode over to join him. “Any ideas of how to crack open a safe?”

  “Pity I left my dynamite at home.”

  An idea blossomed in Sarah’s mind. “It’s electronic, right? How about if we somehow arranged a power-cut?”

  “It’ll be battery powered,” Dylan said. “Otherwise – as you say – one power-cut and it’s useless. I’ve actually got one of these in my office, and it comes with a standard passcode – I wonder if he’d be stupid enough not to change it?”

  “Worth a try. Do you remember what the standard passcode is?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said. “I used it for the first three months. I guess I was stupid enough not to change it.”

  Sarah watched as Dylan firmly prodded the buttons with his index finger. The keypad consisted of letters and numbers – like a telephone pad – and his selection flashed up on the LED screen as he typed. Dylan pressed the ‘enter’ button. Sarah held her breath.

  Nothing happened.

  “I know it might be too obvious,” Sarah said. “But what about his mother’s maiden name?”

  Dylan’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. “Good idea. You know what it is?”

  “No. But we know a man who can easily find out for us.”

  Dylan pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hi, Joe… yeah, I know so
rry. Listen, can you find out Mrs Orlov’s maiden name? What? No I don’t need her inside leg measurement… Oh, right, very funny. Okay, thanks, buddy.”

  Dylan hung up. “Hmm…”

  “Well?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh. He’s still getting around to seducing her by the sounds of it.”

  “No, I mean… what’s her maiden name.”

  “Oh right. It’s Buzinsky. Anna Buzinsky.”

  Dylan knelt in front of the safe and carefully pressed the letters for Buzinsky. Again nothing happened. “Nice try anyway.”

  Sarah’s chest tightened with anticipation. How the hell were they going to crack this bloody safe open? She wrung her fingers nervously. “I bet she’s got tons of names. Russians do that, don’t they? Have loads of names.”

  Dylan frowned at his phone. “Good point, sweetheart. Let’s check her Wikipedia page.”

  Sarah’s mind buzzed as the seconds dripped thickly by. She was sure she could hear footsteps out in the hallway. But the carpet was heavy out there, making it easy to sneak up on this room...

  Dylan scrolled through the webpage. “She’s got seven names. Anna Valentina Catherine Stefleez… I can’t even pronounce that one.” He glanced up. “Probably makes more sense in Russian, huh?”

  Sarah gasped as an idea struck her. “The Russian alphabet!”

  “What?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to explain, but an alarm on Vladimir’s desk suddenly bleeped loudly, making her jump. The yelp was out of her lips before she could stop it. She threw her hands over her mouth.

  “Shit,” Dylan whispered, composing himself. “It’s okay. It’s just his phone.”

  They both stared at the ornate black telephone as it sat there ringing loudly on the desk like a traitor. What if someone heard it and came in? Orlov was still with his cronies, wasn’t he? Surely he wouldn’t answer his office phone this late at night, would he?

  The expensive rug seemed to whirl under Sarah’s feet as she tried to remain upright against her thrashing heart. Dylan suddenly sprang to life, no longer able to stand the ringing that dominated the entire room – and Sarah’s brain. He strode over to the wall and ripped it out of its socket.

  Sarah breathed deeply. Her hands were clammy, but she steeled her nerve. Surely they could do this.

  Dylan strolled back over to the safe. “What were you saying, Sarah? About the Russian alphabet?”

  “Er… um…?”

  “Better make it quick, sweetheart. Just in case Orlov did hear his phone.”

  “I was thinking… oh yeah! Maybe he would’ve spelled his mother’s maiden name with the Russian alphabet?”

  Sarah grabbed her phone from her purse and opened up a translation webpage. She typed in the word ‘Buzinsky’, then clicked the button to translate it. She willed it to hurry. The screen refreshed and she gazed at what looked like nonsense: Бузинский. It was a bit like a personalised license plate when it tried to spell out a name but didn’t quite manage it – because the numbers didn’t quite resemble the letters they were meant to emulate. But maybe…

  “Hey, Dylan,” she said. “Try typing in ‘6y3NHCKNN’.”

  He frowned. “Okay.”

  With trepidation, Dylan typed in the code, then they waited on the outskirts of space/time for what seemed like an eternity. Sarah held her breath; her skin prickled with anticipation… then she groaned with relief as the safe locks clunked heavily open – like the sound of sweet salvation. Her heart leapt with joy!

  “Yes!” she shouted, punching the air. But then her stomach plunged straight to her knees like a crashing elevator as her ears caught the sound of two angry Russian male voices in the hallway, getting closer.

  Dylan sprang to his feet. “I’ll stall them. You grab the blueprint. Put it somewhere safe.”

  On auto-pilot Sarah crouched down in her heels and dress, and pulled open the heavy metal door. Dylan rushed over to the office door and – for want of a better plan – leaned all his weight against it.

  The Russians pounded hard on the wood in the hallway. Dylan leaned harder against the door, managing to keep them out for now. “Come on, Sarah!” he whispered. “I can’t hold them long!”

  Sarah focused on the contents of the safe. Right, what did Ivan say she was looking for? A piece of plastic? Her gaze scanned frantically over a leather folder full of papers, a diamond necklace, and several passports. Sarah reached in with trembling hands, trying to ignore the men outside who were now shoulder-slamming the door. She knew Dylan was strong, but he wouldn’t be able to hold them forever. She moved the passports out the way and picked up the diamond necklace. It was so beautiful… She dropped it. And there it was: the flimsy piece of transparent plastic that was worth millions of dollars – and which had cost poor Natalia her life. She grabbed it and thrust it into her purse, then she turned and saw Dylan pressing both arms against the doorframe, keeping himself wedged fast. His body was being bounced violently each time the Russians outside slammed it. But he was winning at the moment.

  “Not in your purse!” he whispered. “Put it somewhere else!”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped. Where? But he was probably right – they were bound to check her bag. She rolled up the thin plastic – not really caring if she damaged it, because they needed to destroy it anyway – and tucked it into the gusset of her panties, like a panty-liner. It was hard and shiny, but smooth. Dylan grinned at her as she pushed her dress back down. She laughed at the craziness of the situation – it was that or melt into a pool of fear.

  He bounced forward as the Russians slammed into the door again. “They certainly won’t be checking there, I can assure you, sweetheart.”

  “No, they bloody won’t.”

  “Ready?” he said.

  She nodded. “Oh wait!” She darted over and shut the safe – feeling satisfied as the locks clunked back into place.

  Dylan shot her a mischievous glance, then he grabbed the door handle and waited a few seconds, counting in his head. He ripped the door open, and the Russians came tumbling in, mid-shoulder-slam.

  Unable to stop himself, Orlov collided into his desk with a thud. He stumbled, then composed himself, angrily pushing the other guy away – who’d landed on top of him. The man with Orlov was a burly thickset bodyguard. Sarah imagined he’d probably been a prize-fighter back in Russia, before Orlov had selected him for guard duty. That or he’d been working in a freak-show as the world’s strongest man. He was like a shaved gorilla.

  Orlov looked furious and terrified in equal measures. “What are you two doing in here?”

  Dylan grabbed Sarah and held her tight. “Do you mind? We came in here for some privacy!”

  Dylan ran his hands over Sarah’s ass. Her body shook with terror; Orlov wasn’t a man to be messed with.

  “This is my office,” Orlov said. “And you need to get out right now, Mr Quinlan. Leave my house now!”

  Dylan managed to remain calm. “Listen, Vlad, me and Sarah just got here – you can have your office back when we’ve finished our fun. Now do you mind?”

  Orlov muttered something in Russian to his bodyguard, who lurched at Dylan.

  Dylan held up his hands. “Alright, alright! Jesus, we’re leaving. Just let me go rescue my little brother from the clutches of your mother’s thighs, and we’ll be right out of your hair.”

  Chapter Twenty

  It was a relief to be back in Dylan’s bland and characterless apartment after spending two hours in Orlov’s ostentatious gothic mansion. Sarah’s eyes relished staring at these boring furnishings – they made a welcome change from pretentious art and heavy antiques. She was still feeling shaken after their lucky escape. But here they were. Safe for now.

  Dylan made some coffee and the three of them sat on his comfortable-yet-bland couch in his safe-yet-dull living room. Dylan loosened his tie and picked up the piece of plastic that Sarah had placed carefully on the couch between them. He absent-mindedly turned it around in his fingers, staring at it like an e
nigma. Then he pulled himself out of it and focused on Sarah.

  He held her hand. “Alright, sweetheart?”

  “I think so.” Sarah tucked her feet underneath herself and tried to get comfortable. She squinted at Joseph’s cheek as he reclined on the couch opposite. “You’ve got a splodge of pink lipstick on your face.”

  He laughed and reached up to wipe it off. “Anna certainly knows how to leave her mark on a guy.”

  Dylan sipped his coffee. It wasn’t the done thing amongst the Quinlan brothers to brag about their private moments with a lady. But Sarah was allowed to ask as many questions as she wanted. “Was she good? Did you give her… you know, pleasure?”

  Joseph smirked. “She was left completely satisfied. As was I.”

  “Joe,” Dylan said. “We don’t kiss and tell.”

  “No,” Joseph said. “We kiss and steal things from safes.”

  “I’ve never seen Orlov so angry,” Sarah said. “He always seems so cool. We completely rattled him by being in his office like that.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Yeah, well, when he finds out we’ve stolen his blueprint, I don’t think we’ll be at the top of his Christmas card list.”

  Fear gripped Sarah. “Do you think he’ll come after us? I mean, does he know that we know about Natalia being a spy?”

  “I’m not sure, babe.”

  “Should we get the police involved?”

  Dylan caressed her cheek. “Orlov’s not going to hurt us. If he comes anywhere near you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  Sarah rubbed her brow. “If only we had some evidence about Natalia’s true motives. Then we could maybe get it to his gang and they’d deal with him. They’re already going to be furious that Orlov let us steal the blueprint.”

  Joseph cradled his coffee. “That’s a good idea, Sarah. We just need to stay alive until then.”

  Dylan threw his brother a blank look. “We’ll stay together; no one’s killing anyone... I wonder if Mikhail can find us some evidence about Natalia’s involvement with the rebel group. He said if I needed him I should whistle three times…”

  Sarah sat up tall. “There’s a café in Kensington called the Three Whistles.”