Secrets After Dark Read Online Free Page B

‘Like I say, a good arrangement.’
    It sounds it. Is that something else about the world of the rich? I wonder. Vast sums of money changing hands for what seems like not much effort? Perhaps when you’ve got lots of it, money changes its character and value, and you start thinking that huge sums are really not much at all. That’s why wealthy people start tipping waitresses in the hundreds, and paying for meals in the thousands.
    ‘Do you like him?’ I ask boldly.
    ‘Of course,’ Mark returns. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
    ‘I read somewhere that he’s got a shady past.’ That’s what James hinted at least.
    ‘I don’t concern myself with that, and nor should you,’ Mark says a little strictly. ‘Our clients are accepted for themselves, and for their dealings with us. He’s always been very fair to me.’
    And to Dominic? I can’t help asking silently. What kind of a boss is he to him? I never knew much, just that Dominic’s employer is a very rich and powerful man. Mark isn’t aware of my connection to Dominic, although he knows Dominic himself. James went to visit Mark on business the day that he saw Dominic in Mark’s house. No doubt Dominic was sorting out something to do with Dubrovski’s affairs with Mark, and James overheard him telling Mark he was leaving for Russia that evening. When James passed this information on to me, I knew I had little time to see Dominic again, and I summoned him to the boudoir that afternoon – it was the last time we saw one another.
    For a moment, I’m back there. We are making love as tenderly and passionately as any couple could: the pain and misunderstandings are forgotten in the joy of his skin against mine, his body moving in me, our kisses and panting breaths and the climax of pleasure that engulfs us both. Then he’s explaining why he has to leave.
    But I’ve never really understood. I know he was appalled by his mistake, the night he really hurt me. But it was forgiven, and he’d changed. So why did he have to go?
    It wasn’t just because he needed some space. It was also because of this man. Dubrovski. He summoned Dominic away. And since then, I’ve heard nothing.
    The car draws to a halt before a pair of large iron gates. A guard emerges from a hut behind the gates and comes out to speak to the driver, inspect us through the window and then let us in. So we’re here, I think. And just for a second I get a marvellous rush of adrenalin at the thought that perhaps Dominic is waiting for me at the end of the driveway that curves away in front of us.
    The drive takes us between elegantly manicured bushes and perfectly arranged flower beds, and then the house appears: a vast, white villa, with that particular French nineteenth-century squarish grey roof edged in curling wrought iron. It’s beautiful but, somehow, unremarkable except for the fact it’s so big. Late flowering roses climb up white trellising as if arranged by an artist, lavender bushes sit in perfect rows: it’s all very pretty and perfect.
    A butler comes out to open the car door and we emerge on to the gravelled driveway. I stay behind Mark as he converses with the butler in fluent French. From what I recall from school French lessons, he’s asking if he is going to see Monsieur Dubrovski at once.
    ‘ Oui ,’ replies the butler. ‘Immediatement. Suivez-moi, s’il vous plaît.’
    My stomach plummets and I realise that I’m nervous about meeting Dubrovski. It’s all very well bravely kicking at Sid’s training pad, but now the real thing is so close, some of my bravado is melting away. What will he look like? A squat, mean-faced gangster? Spoiled, selfish and haughty? He comes from a world I can hardly imagine, and I remember James’s warning, that no one gets to where he is without being tough.
    I follow Mark, who seems completely at ease, as we are led through the large hallway and along a corridor. It’s decorated in unobtrusive hues of peach and apricot, the furniture modern and