Kept Women: Two Fertile Submissive Stories (2 page)

“
Where's – what was his
name? – Little Grigor?” Come on, memory, don't fail me
now!

Nicholas looked up from his vodka and smiled
when he saw me. Okay, I'd dressed up a little, but I hoped I hadn't
overdone it.

“
Over there.” He extended
his arm, pointing one finger across the room.

I followed. Several tables over, an older
woman stared at the boy, apparently watching to make sure he
cleaned his entire plate.

For a second, I stupidly wondered if he
would tell me it was his wife. But then she looked up, shaky and
slow. I realized just how old she really was.

“
Sit down,” he offered,
kicking aside the nearest chair. “That's my nurse over there,
Dorrit Volkova. And she's part of the reason I asked you to dine
with me this evening...”

I sank on the chair, straightening my sleek
red dress. I wasn't gonna lie to myself – my heart sank a little
when he said the words.

So, he hadn't just wanted my company. But
then, what could this old crone possibly have to do with me?

A waiter came by and took my drink order. I
thanked my lucky stars that I'd just hit twenty-one two months ago,
right after flunking out of college. At least I could drink all I
wanted, and I'd need a tall, stiff drink after I heard this strange
Russian's offer.

“
I don't like guessing
games,” I said, turning back to Nicholas. “What are you getting
at?”

“
My son, Grigor. You were
good with him this evening, April.
Very
good. The boy usually pitches a
fit with anyone except me and my dear, trusty nurse. Just one
problem: Dorrit's long overdue for retirement.”

It hit me. I started to sweat a little, and
reached for the tall flask of water next to me.

I couldn't believe what he was...asking?
Offering?

Yeah, I'd wanted a job offer when I came to
Europe and hopped on this miserable cruise. I just didn't expect a
glorified nanny position in a strange land!

“
I can't do that,” I
blurted out. “I don't have any experience babysitting kids. I was
never really the type when I was a teen...”

“
That doesn't matter to
me, young lady. You have the instinct a woman needs to look after
them. Our cultures are very different, you know. When I see that
spark in you, beautiful and bright, I know you're right for the
job. It's
instinct
that makes an impression on me, April. Not
experience.”

I coughed lightly. My Appletini arrived and
I gulped it quickly, coating my belly in a deeper warmth.

Nicholas grinned, no doubt amused as he
discovered my freakish ability to hold my liquor. Just as long as
it was sweet, green, and hit like gunpowder.

“
Surely, this isn't too
much for you? Let's not joke around, April Gallaway. A girl – no, a
young woman – your age doesn't come on a cruise like this all alone
unless she wants to get away from something. Here's your
chance.”

He planted his hands neatly on the table and
extended his fingers. Those sharp eyes were all over me as I
settled my glass.

He was making me burn through my red dress.
I flushed, unsure if I hated Nicholas or my own traitorous body
more. The fires he kindled, wild and irrational, made my blood
simmer.

Ah, why? Why am I enjoying this? And how can
he make such distant parts of me burn much fiercer than the
liquor?

“
What are you trying to
run away from? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.” He
leaned in, flexing those huge hands, more like lion's paws than
proper man-hands.

“
You really want to know?”
I said in a low breath, stopping to sip more water. “I'm a failure.
I'm the kind of girl you'd be a total idiot to hire. The ignorant,
spoiled American times ten. I failed out of school and couldn't
find a job. My dad's a rich diplomat. I had nothing better to do
than sail the Baltic with ice on the shores. That's why I'm really
here.”

“
You need to be
disciplined.”

My eyes went wide. I did a double take,
wondering if I'd heard him right.

“
You need discipline,” he
repeated. “A fresh start, where you can work and play hard, just
like I know you want to. I can get you all those things and so much
more, April. Should we talk terms and numbers?”

“
I...” My lips dropped
open.

Just then, the Appletini kicked in, pouring
kerosene on the mad, mad fire roiling my skin. If I were twice as
drunk, I might've thrown myself at him right there, snapping off
the straps to my dress and silencing his evil lips with a kiss he'd
never forget.

It didn't help that I was still a virgin.
Much more frustrated and filthy minded than a virgin had any
business being, but it wasn't from lack of trying.

My last boyfriend, Michael, dumped me the
semester before I got ousted. He hadn't gone past second base,
easily knocked off course by way I toyed with him.

No great loss – he wasn't long-term
material. He had nothing on the way this powerful Russian put me in
my place, this strange man who made me want to dig in and unravel
all his harsh mysteries.

“
Don't say anything yet,”
Nicholas said, reaching into his pocket. “Here, I'll give you
something more to think about. I'll do this the old way, just like
a good American businessman.”

Again, that damnably addicting chuckle
rumbled from his strong throat. He produced a fountain pen and
grabbed a napkin from the table's center, holding his hand over the
papery sheaf as his pen went to work.

When he finished writing, he raised his
other hand and slid it toward me. I audibly gasped when I saw the
numbers.

I checked for dollar
signs, thinking they were worthless rubles at first. But no, these
were
Euros,
meaning he was offering me even more.

“
A good salary. I think
your companies call it a 'sign on bonus.' You get half that if you
leave after a month, but everything if you decide to stay past
thirty days. And half, I think you'll agree, is still more than
generous just for trying it out.”

I stuttered. He was giving me twice what an
experienced Vet Tech would earn in a good location. Probably well
on the way to what my father made as a diplomat, all for being a
glorified live-in babysitter.

“
You really...want me that
bad? How? Why?”

“
We already talked about
instinct, dear lady. We don't need to hash out my personal neuroses
here, but I go for exactly what I want. Always. Even if it carries
a stiff premium.”

He reached forward, pressing the napkin
closer to the circle formed by my limp arms. He brushed my
trembling arm slightly, and let his flesh linger against mine, ice
seeking fire.

“
You don't have to decide
here and now. Just think about it. In three more days, we'll dock
in St. Petersburg for good. That's where Grigor and I get off. Find
me before then if it's a 'yes.' And I'm confident it will be.
You
need
this,
April.”

I need you!
I wanted to shout.

Nicholas ordered us both vodkas and a plate
of caviar. We ate mostly in silence for another half hour, casting
heavy glances across the table.

A little later, his frumpy old nurse
wandered over with his son in tow and whispered some words in
Russian. His feet shifted under the table as he pushed on the
chair, but not all the way.

I almost hit the ceiling when I felt his
hand on my thigh. I looked up from a piece of bread smeared with
lush golden caviar, unsure whether to bat him away or push his
fingers between my legs.

The need to do the latter was brutal,
overpowering. I started to reach for his fingers...

“
I have business to attend
to with my son tonight. Think about my offer, April. You know how
to get me my answer.”

In a flash, his hand was gone. Still,
Nicholas' stern, slight squeeze lingered, a scorching impression in
the vast dining hall. I sipped another drink, wondering what it
would take to make the burn fade, eyeing the inky darkness sloshing
through the huge windows.

Who was I kidding? I already knew.

I had to have him. Somehow, someway, I
needed a night with this Russian, savage as his wintry soul. But
would getting what I wanted tame the fire, or send me straight into
an inferno I'd never, ever escape?

At least not without becoming smoldering
ash.

Have you lost it, girl? Have you completely
lost your fucking mind?

I imagined Dad's words whenever I got around
to telling him about my new position just outside St. Petersburg.
Minus the F-bomb, of course.

But when I saw Nicholas' sprawling estate, I
seriously wondered if they were more apt than anything else. I'd
taken the nanny gig, knowing full well he was rich. Except I hadn't
known rich was a terrible understatement.

I was in the back of a
Lexus driven by a chauffeur, a man I was made to understand would
be my
personal
driver. It looked like the huge palace was some kind of
country dacha once used by a Tsar, or maybe a newly restored church
to show off Russia's historic splendor.

“
Mr. Voroshlov will meet
you outside, Ms. Gallaway. We're just about to stop.”

My heart pounded. The driver was telling the
truth, though. One insane revelation among many that hit me as the
car pulled in beneath a marble canopy held up by some huge
Roman-looking pillars.

The car jerked to a halt. The driver got
out, rounded the side, and opened my door.

Nicholas stood beneath the canopy, as
promised, dressed in a sharp gray suit. He waved to me.

I hadn't seen him for two nights, not since
our drinks before the ship made port. He hadn't even gotten back to
me, leaving me to phone the number to his aide left on the
napkin.

“
Let me give you the grand
tour. I'll explain what you can expect here, and your
duties.”

The whirlwind began. He led me through the
spacious doors, past a small group of shorter, older Russian women
cleaning the floors.

I had to remember to keep pumping my knees.
Antique vases, huge portraits in exquisite oils dating back several
centuries, and gold stretched as far as the eye could see.

The dizzying luxury threatened to freeze me
in place, or at least make my head spin. But I had to keep going.
Maybe if I pretended I was on a museum trip, it wouldn't be so
bad.

“
Your morning schedule
will be light. Grigor's with his private tutor most seasons, but I
expect you to get him up, cleaned, and ready in the morning. In the
evening, you're to see that his studies are complete. Don't let the
boy lie to you.” Nicholas' eyes narrowed.

“
One problem: I don't know
a word of Russian beyond '
Da
' and '
Spasiba
.'” I chewed my
lip.

“
You'll figure something
out. If you're here long enough, we'll get you lessons. Until then,
just check his workbooks, his files. I pay well for my son's
education, but a seven year old doesn't have the heftiest
requirements. You'll know if the work looks complete.”

I shrugged, hoping he was right. Nicholas
led me on, upstairs across a winding staircase, and down a sleek
hallway covered in a red carpet.

If the stately atmosphere
was powerful before, now it became truly overwhelming. Everything
about the estate shamed my parent's richest friends. Their million
dollar houses and small servant crews were nothing like
real
wealth, real
splendor.

They didn't call it 'old world charm' for
nothing.

We came to the end of the hall, and Nicholas
turned. I stopped in front of a black lacquered door, staring at
two huge statues on each side.

Dual stern faces in stone towered over me,
bare chested and magnificent, huge swords resting between their
legs. I stopped, admiring the fine work, wondering if they'd been
copied from Roman warrior's or something else.

“
This room is off limits,”
Nicholas said, his voice a low whisper.

“
Huh?” I looked up from my
gawking. “I was just admiring them. I'm not used to seeing artwork
like this inside someone's home.”

“
My Uncle's, old war
memorials from the Battle of Kursk,” he explained. “When the Soviet
Union fell, many war memorials went into disrepair. The family
couldn't bear to see vandals peck and graffiti these heroes like
wolves. I inherited them a few years ago when he passed, and the
tradition lives on.”

He reached out, curling his palm across the
big soldier's thigh. It was strange to see such a beautiful,
powerful man in the flesh, especially while touching his
exaggerated mirror image in cold stone.

“
What's in there, then? An
art gallery?” I faced the door.

“
No, April. It's my
private suite.” He smiled when he saw my surprise. “This room is my
sanctuary, the one place where no one disturbs me without my
permission. The staff are allowed to share the commons places to
their hearts' content. But never this room. Never.”

I managed a small smile and nodded. As we
left the hall and began descending the winding staircase again, I
couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay behind that door.

The key to Nicholas Voroshlov's heart, or at
least his lusts, were there. I knew it.