Chapter 17
This was definitely one of Valentin’s brighter ideas and I swear I have never tasted food like it.
Everyone seems happier now that Simon is in charge of the kitchen, and the fine wine he has served has made me sleepy and content. I’m surprised to find I’m enjoying myself. I love Thorn House and I strangely love the company. Valentin’s men don’t seem half as scary anymore, and I’m at ease with them. They are more relaxed, and the conversation is full of jokes and stories that make me giggle and as I steal shy glances at their boss, my heart beats a little quicker when I remember the pleasure he can bring to my body.
Despite our hard beginning, we are falling into an easy friendship. I love how protective he is and in tune with my emotions. If anything, I am happy to offer to help because it prolongs their stay and for a woman who lost her family years ago; they are a surprising replacement.
After lunch, I decide to stretch my legs and explore the grounds. It’s a better day today, and the sun has even made an appearance and I can already tell the grounds stretch way into the distance.
I offer to help Simon with the clearing up and Valentin interrupts and instructs two of his men to help him instead and then surprises me by saying with a soft smile, “I’ll walk with you, Polly. There may be something we’ve missed.”
“Okay.”
I’m not sure why that makes me so happy, but as we wander to the back door, I notice a set of boots that appear to be my size.
As I pull them on, I note Valentin’s smart shiny boots and say with concern, “Perhaps we should see if there are any wellies for you.”
“Wellies?” He raises his eyes and I giggle.
“Wellington boots. Rubber ones if you like. The grass may be muddy and wet and I would hate to ruin those boots because they look expensive.”
He shrugs. “Then I’ll get a new pair.”
I’m surprised when he reaches for my hand and says with a tender smile, “Take a walk with me, Polly.”
My heart races as my hand sits inside his and we head outside into the sunshine, a faint chill in the air reminding me that summer is still a long way off.
As we head down the flagstone path, I remark on the early flowers pushing through the soil and the song of a nearby bird makes me smile.
“I love it here. I am so lucky.” I say with excitement, and his hand tightens around mine.
“You say you want to live here but must sell the house in Kensington to pay for it. I don’t understand.”
“Well–” I sigh deeply. “Houses like this aren’t cheap to run. Council tax for one must be astronomical and then there are the heating and electricity bills. I would have to employ a gardener and I suppose I could convert the coach house and staff annexe into holiday lets, that may bring in some money but the thought of other people sharing this with me is a step I’m not ready for just yet.”
He shrugs. “But the London house may be better. You haven’t even visited it yet.”
“I doubt it.” I shake my head, gazing around at the luscious landscape and hear nothing but birdsong in the air.
“I’m not a city girl. London is okay in small doses, but way too busy for me. I expect the property is a small flat anyway because house prices are extortionate in the city.”
“No.” I gaze around with a happy smile on my face. “My heart is already here. London will be my ticket to stay and I count myself lucky I have that option.”
“What about Sussex? I thought you were happy there?” He asks, gripping my hand with a surprising firmness.
“I am, but it’s nothing like this.”
“What about friends, your life there, your job?”
“I have very few friends and they can come and visit me here. As for my job–” I shrug. “I can do that anywhere. I’m a freelance copywriter and all of my work is online.” I stare around with mounting excitement. “This is perfect for me and my future.”
He says nothing and we walk in silence and I marvel at the sheer scale of this garden. It’s beautiful and my aunt must definitely have a gardener because it’s so well kept.
“Valentin—” I say quickly as the thought hits me. “My aunt must have employed someone to care for this place. Perhaps they can tell us something about your father.”
“His name is Gregory Parker, and he is due to visit tomorrow.”
“How do you know that?” I stop and stare at him in astonishment, and he grins.
“I make it my business to know everything, malyshka.”
He stops and pulls me in close and tilts my face to his and my heart races as he whispers against my lips, “I know everything except who killed my father and why. I know meaningless information that is missing a vital puzzle piece, and I know that the most important thing in my life, even more important than the reason I’m here, is to be inside you within the next hour.”
I gasp as I stare into his turbulent eyes that are overflowing with lust, and I swear every part of me shivers with delicious anticipation as his lips brush against mine.
My heart pounds as he deepens the kiss and I instinctively lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in deeper. His hand settles in the small of my back as he presses me in closer and I groan softly as he tangles his other hand in my hair and releases it from its binding.
He pulls back and whispers, “Come with me.”
I blink as the rush of air catches me and he tugs me after him toward the trees and as we crash through them, he swings me against a nearby tree and pushes me back against it. My heart beats frantically as he pushes my skirt up around my waist, unzips his own pants and without any foreplay, or even a word, he thrusts inside my wet heat, nailing me to the tree.
I cry out as he hammers me to the bark as the birds screech overhead.
“Fuck.”
His low growl is sexy as hell as he fills me entirely, body and soul. He lifts my leg to drive deeper and wrenches my top up over my breasts, dropping his greedy mouth to them and sucking hard.
This is raw, basic animal fucking and I am so turned on right now. My hands run under his shirt and I claw his back, groaning out loud as he scrapes my walls inside. He has overpowered my senses and is ruining me forever and I hate that I love how desperate this is.
My head hits the bark of the tree as he thumps into me with a ferocity that excites me, and he spills Russian words into the afternoon breeze that carries them to the heavens. His rough fingers caress my clit, causing me to scream his name and as I ride a huge violent wave of ecstasy, I come all over his cock. A loud roar accompanies his own release and as he fills my sodden pussy, I love every sordid minute of it.
I’m not sure when my morality deserted me, but I have a feeling it’s when he tossed the thorny rose into an open grave and turned to stare directly into my eyes. That was the moment my soul was lost to him and, like the beautiful rose that tumbled to its rough ending, it signifies my own rough beginning. I am lost in this man and I will never be the same again because life after Valentin Romanov will be an empty one indeed.