Romance: New Adult: One Game at a Time - A College Football Romance (Bad Boy Romance) (Sports Contemporary Short Stories) (74 page)

As they walked through the garden towards the house, Ella smelt the scent of roses. The borders
were filled
with flowers. She recognized some like sweet pea and Iris, but there were many varieties she had never seen before. She thought Mike would knock on the front door, but he didn't. He took a path to the left of the
house
and led her around to the rear of the property.

The
rear
of the house had
an even more
magnificent garden than the front. There was a terrace adorned with
statues
of Greek Gods and lawns,
which
stretched for as far as Ella could see. On the terrace she saw many expensively dressed people, most of them holding champagne glasses. Ella suddenly felt very conspicuous in her cheap borrowed dress. The women at the party were all wearing magnificent evening gowns and expensive jewelry. The mansion, the people, the surroundings, all added to make her feel
poor
and insignificant.

Mike smiled at
her;
she was sure he could sense what she was feeling, and she was grateful to him for making an effort to put her at ease. She followed him to the crowd of people, where he introduced her to a group of women who looked as if they'd never done
a hard day’s
work in their lives. Ella spoke politely and explained that
she
was new to the
company
and that she'd just graduated. When they asked where she lived, she lied.

After Ella had drunk her first glass of champagne,
she
began to feel a little less inhibited. She told herself that she was as good as any of these
people
and that she was on her way up the ladder, and would one day be
rich
like them.

''Ella,'' Mike called as he beckoned her to him. ''I want you to meet Mr. Beljakov.
This is
Ella Freeman, she's my new assistant,'' he said to the man standing next to him.

''Please to meet you, Mr. Beljakov,'' Ella said as she shook his hand.

''Pavel, call me
Pavel,
please.
Mike gets so formal.
It must be his English roots,'' he said. Ella tried to sum Pavel up. It wasn't difficult. She only needed three words: rich and
gorgeous
. ''How are you settling in
at
work?'' he asked.

Ella was
awestruck
. A tall man, several inches taller than she, he had blue eyes and blonde hair.
He
was remarkably fresh faced, which made her place him at around thirty, certainly no older. When he spoke, he spoke perfect English, but he had a Russian accent
that
Ella found gave him a boyish charm.

''Fine thank you. I am very pleased I got the job. It isn't easy to find work these days,'' she replied.

''I'm
very happy
to have you working for me. I need talented people. When Steffi told me about you, I was very impressed and eager to meet you. I'm very glad you came today.''

''I'm pleased I came too, and it's lovely to meet you,'' Ella said.

Ella prided herself on being a good judge of
character,
and she saw a man who, despite his wealth, was a little insecure. The way he spoke to her was gentle and soft, and yet she knew from the little she had seen of his company so far, that he could be a ruthless negotiator. When she and Mike had talked about him, Mike had described him as kind and
good-natured
, but he'd warned her that when his back was against the wall, his nature often changed into that of a cold assassin.

''Please excuse me, I need to have a word with someone over there. Business never ends,'' Pavel said smiling at her. As he turned, his eyes lingered and scanned her body. ''We're going to have lunch shortly. It's a buffet, quite
informal;
perhaps you would do me the honor of keeping me company as we eat,'' he asked.

Ella,
lost for words, just nodded.

When the buffet was ready, Ella stood in line waiting to take a plate.

''No, you don't have to stand in line,'' Pavel said as she walked up to her.

''I have ten employees, and they always go first. Those people standing in line are real estate agents and bankers and their partners. They're here for a free
meal
so that I can get a reduced rate from them when I use their services. Come with me.''

Ella followed him to the front and, was charmed when he handed her a plate. Ella looked down the
table,
and there was almost every type of food she could think
if
. Meats, fish, vegetable, fruits and delicious looking pastries. ''It all looks so delicious, I haven't a clue where to start,'' she said.

''Start wherever you like. There is just one rule,'' Pavel said pulling a cheeky face. ''You have to eat at least one spoonful of caviar. I had it flown in, from Russia
specially
for today. It's from my
hometown
.''

''You had a plane fly it here?''

''Yes, my plane went and fetched it.''

''But isn't that terribly expensive,'' Ella asked slightly concerned at the decadence he was displaying.

“I suppose it's expensive, but the plane doesn't fly empty on the way over there. It's crammed full of toys for an orphanage I look after.''

Ella felt guilty for even questioning his motives. ''Well, in that
case,
I'll have two spoonfuls.''

When they had both filled their plates, Pavel showed her to a table. It was big enough for four to sit at, but nobody came and sat with them. Ella assumed people would only do that if they
were invited
and Pavel didn't seem to want any more company.

''How long have you lived in the US?'' Ella asked.

''Since I was
twenty-five
, so for about five years.''

''I hope you don't mind me prying but why did you come here?''

''I am from a town called Sochi, on the Black Sea. I was an
orphan;
it seems nobody wanted me,'' he said with a grin. Ella didn't find his quip funny.

''When I was eighteen, I was drafted
into
the Red Army, like all kids my age. I spent
twenty-four
months under an officer called Abram Volkov. He was also from
Sochi.
We left the army at more or less the same time, and when he got into real estate and other business activities, he gave me work doing jobs for him. When he moved his business empire to New York, he brought me here with him.''

''What kind of jobs?'' Ella asked.

Pavel looked into her eyes. Where had this beauty suddenly
appeared from
?
he
thought. ''Jobs like collecting money from people, and threatening to break their legs if they didn't pay,'' Pavel said openly.

''Mafia stuff?'' Ella asked without actually wanting to know the answer.

''Abram is a very dangerous
man,
and he has connections. In
Sochi,
every second person walks with a limp because he thinks they've crossed him. I was young and
strong
, and Abram used me to collect rents. Sure, I had to get my hands dirty sometimes, but Ella, it was Russia.'' Ella nodded and somehow she seemed to understand.

''So you came to the US. And do you like it here?''

''I like it very much. It's a place where you can make vast sums of money. I seem to have done quite well so far.'' Ella was about to tell him, that money wasn't everything, but she knew it would sound hypocritical. After all, she was working for
him,
and she needed him to do well.

''It's
very rude
of me, I know, but how does someone get so rich. How can you be born an orphan, and end up this rich,'' Ella gestured to the mansion.

Pavel wiped his fingers on a crisp white serviette and thought for a while. ''It's difficult to explain. One day I saw something I shouldn't have and certain people are grateful for my silence. '' Ella was fascinated. He had only known her for a few minutes, yet he was telling her things, that most other people would keep secret. ''All I did was work for Abram for some years, save the money he paid me, and invest in a piece of real estate. That was a
success , and
so I kept on doing it.'' He paused as he cut a piece of chicken down to bite size. '' Dealing just seemed to come naturally to me. When I thought I had enough cash,
I
told Abram
I
wanted to start up on my
own,
and that's what I've been doing for the last two years.''

''What did he say to you?'' Ella wanted to know.

Pavel pushed a piece of tomato into his mouth and thought about how to answer such a tricky question. ''He wasn't happy at all. Will you go on a date with me?'' he
said out
of the blue.

Ella almost spat her food out in surprise. ''Why do you want to date me?'' she asked.

''Because you are beautiful and you intrigue me.''

''You are a very
rich
man. You have more money that a thousand people will ever see in their lives. I am a black woman from a poor
background,
and I live in a shit hole. You've
gotta
be joking.''

Pavel laughed out loud, and
a number of
people looked at them. ''Er... no actually, I wasn't joking.''

''You could have any woman walking the
planet
and you want me? Pavel, I've known you for half an hour, and you've already asked me on a date. How do I know you don't do this to every
woman
you meet? How do I know you're not just messing with me?''

Pavel looked at her dress and wondered where she had bought it. Her breasts looked
gorgeous,
and he wanted to unpack them on the spot. ''You can only find out if I'm messing with you, by saying yes. If you say
no,
you will never
find out
. The moment I saw you, I couldn't take my eyes off you. The choice is yours.''

Ella's head was spinning. Was she in a dream of some kind? Only a few days ago, she was an unemployed graduate, and now she was being chased by a Russian billionaire.

*****

''Ah, my dear Pavel. Sit down, I just have a bit of business to attend
to,
and I'll be right with you,'' Abram said as he held his hand over the phone.

His appearance had changed significantly in the years since Pavel had first met him, Pavel thought. He had always been a big guy, but now at the age of
fifty-two
, he was on the fat side of muscular. His hair had gone
gray,
and it had started to thin on top. He was now the kind of man, who went around with beads of sweat rolling from his forehead, a sure sign he was out of condition. Abram had a round
face,
and he was quite obviously Russian.
Pavel, on the other hand,
had much finer Slavic features and could be thought to come from
a number of
countries.

''What do you mean you don't want to sell the apartment anymore? You told me when we last met that it was a
formality,
and the contract was on
it's
way,'' Abram barked down the phone. Pavel heard a man on the other end say something which made Abram explode into one of his rages.

''You're what?
Your
daughters have decided they want to keep it?
Well,
tell you fucking
daughters
that they can't keep it. You
told me
I could buy it, so as far as I'm concerned, the deal's done. Now instruct your lawyers to make out the contract of sale or I'll come round with some of my guys, and we'll all rape your wife. Do you understand?'' Abram slammed the phone down and let out a roar of frustration. ''Americans, they can never make up their damn minds.''

''You wanted to see
me,
Abram?'' Pavel asked calmly.

''Yes. I've got a job for you.''

Pavel sighed. He thought Abram had understood. He plainly hadn't. ''I'm trying to get going on my own Abram. I know I owe you a lot. In fact everything, but you need to let me go now. No more jobs. Get someone else.''

Pavel looked around the office as he waited for a reply. It was a typical Manhattan office, floor to ceiling windows, air conditioning and a view to
die for
. One thing that set it apart from most other executive
offices
, was the Russian flag hanging from the wall behind Abram's desk, and a set of swords mounted in racks on the wall behind the meeting area. Pavel remembered one occasion when Abram had held one of the swords to a vendors throat because he wouldn't agree to Abrams offer.