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Click here"He has always had morals," Ivan continued. "Only he tends to be a little more selective than most with his code of morality. He only keeps those he will never violate. This is important to him."
"So he only makes rules he will not break?" Beth twisted so that she was looking straight at him. "That hardly seems fair."
"Perhaps not. But it makes him a lot easier to work for than for some. My boss has much vliyat. Power, or influence," he explained when she looked confused by the foreign term. "But he only uses it when he needs to. Not for his personal enjoyment. Most of the time."
"Then why does he want this... arrangement?"
"That, I do not know. Dmitri may be my friend. But he is also my boss. As I told you before, I do not question him."
Ivan sat back with such finality that Beth knew the conversation was over.
As they drove, the streets outside changed. They passed through council estates of large, 1950s style block-like apartment buildings, high streets lined with bars and shops, the financial district with its towering skyscrapers which shone, even at night, until they reached the King's Road and Chelsea. Designer boutiques were everywhere - labels which Beth had heard of, but never even dreamed of aspiring to own. Beth drank in the sights, which from the inside of a luxury car seemed transformed compared with how she saw them when she travelled by bus.
Yet the longer they drove, the closer she knew they were drawing to their destination. And as they neared, a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. It was as bad as when she was going to see Mr Voronov for the first time, earlier that day. Or the day before, to be precise. It was half past four in the morning by the time they came to a halt outside a large, opulent town house.
"This is where Mr Voronov lives?" she asked, incredulous.
"Some of the time."
"Some?"
"My boss has many residences. This is one of them."
Beth stared at the white-fronted house. It was the sort of place she saw on television, with the rich and famous coming in and out of its doors, but never thought she would ever be acquainted with someone who lived there.
"Come. Let me escort you inside."
She was too astounded to move as Ivan got out of the car and came round to the passenger door on the other side. He opened it and offered her his hand. Numbly she took it and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow as he led her up the wide steps to the entrance.
A uniformed butler opened the door for them.
"Good evening, Mr Kaliayev," he greeted them, unfazed by receiving visitors in the early hours of the morning.
"Good evening, Hawkes. Is Mr Voronov still up?"
"He is waiting for you in the smoking room."
"I have brought his guest - Miss Noble, her name is."
Beth smiled at the butler, who gave her a polite nod in response.
"Good evening, Miss Noble. Mr Voronov has asked that you both join him when you arrived."
"Thank you, Hawkes. Unless Mr Voronov has any further need for you, you are dismissed - I can find my way to the smoking room and see myself out afterwards."
"As you wish, Sir."
The Butler stood aside to let them in, closed the door behind them, clicked his heels together and disappeared into a side room.
Ivan unbuttoned his black overcoat and tossed it over a chair in the entrance hall. The jacket he wore underneath followed, as did his hat and tie.
"This way," he beckoned, once he was more comfortably attired.
Beth shuffled along after him, becoming more and more self-conscious with every step she took. On the walls hung large, brass-framed mirrors and beautiful paintings - she might not have ever had the opportunity to learn much about art, but it was obvious that more than one or two works were priceless.
Meanwhile, in stark contrast, there she was, in her old pyjamas, her ridiculous slippers and a dressing gown that was only a few months away from being rags.
They stopped outside a large, oak-panelled door.
"After you," Ivan said.
On the other side was a cosy sitting room, with large, plush settees and a real fireplace, complete with a burning fire.
Dmitri - Mr Voronov - was sitting, facing the doorway. Like Ivan, he wore a suit jacket and shirt, without a tie. The cufflinks had been removed and placed on a small table on his left hand side so that his sleeves could be folded over to the elbow. She could see the taut muscles of his forearms, a hint of what lay beneath the rest of his clothes. His top button was also undone, so that she could see a triangle of bare skin below his neck and just the suggestion of chest hair.
He did not move as she entered. He just watched her, his dark eyes following her like a predator stalking its prey. Beth was filled with an acute awareness of him.
"Friend!" Ivan greeted him, breaking the tension. "What a journey. You forgot to tell me that Miss Noble lives in the middle of nowhere. I almost could not believe it when she would not let me rescue her from that awful place!" He smiled at Beth teasingly.
Strolling over to a sideboard, he pulled out a bottle of vodka from a miniature freezer box and a trio of glasses. He poured out three measures.
"In my village, Miss Noble, we drink our vodka poured over cherry jam." He passed a drink to Dmitri before picking up the other two and carrying one over to Beth. "But in England, we like it neat." He pressed one glass in her hands before raising his in salutation and taking a deep gulp.
Dmitri followed suit but Beth stared at the clear liquid before cautiously raising it to her lips and taking a small sip. The liquid burned the back of her throat and she coughed.
"Is this the first time you have drank vodka?" Dmitri asked, the first words he had said since they arrived.
"Yes."
If he was surprised by her admission, he hid it well. Although, seeing as he had taken the pains to find out about her reading habits, perhaps he knew about her drinking habits as well. "You will soon grow used to it, Miss Noble."
"I'm not really thirsty," she eyed the almost untouched girl with distaste.
"Are you hungry?"
She shook her head.
"Would you like to visit the bathroom after your journey?"
"No, thanks."
"In that case, Miss Noble, I would like to take a proper look at what I have purchased before I go to bed. You may take of your clothes."
The concept of a woman taming a beast. No thanks.
P.S female writers need to be creative.
what a jerk for that last statement lol, I think I would've immediately given him the finger
I lived there for a while, in the tiniest room! But it was great...
Re story - I am enjoying already, keep it coming.