The Mistress(34)
“I really do. I was just afraid it was too expensive. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage. I could be happy with something a lot smaller.”
“Well, I wouldn’t.” She told him all about it then, and the many high-tech features it had, which he liked. And they didn’t need to do any work. Everything had been done. “I want you to buy it. It sounds perfect, and I trust your judgment and your taste. I’ll call them tomorrow.” He wanted a quick closing, and was planning to pay for it in cash, which was how he did everything. He could have the money wired into the owner’s account immediately. He didn’t want to wait months for a slow closing. “Do they have any technical reports on it, to prove that all the work was done?”
“The realtor says they do.” She couldn’t believe how simple he made it all seem, despite the expense.
“I’ll take care of all the details. You can start planning how you want to decorate it. Unless you want a decorator.” He had used one for the house in London, but Natasha thought it would be more fun to do it herself, since this was her “project,” and Vladimir was willing to let her.
“I don’t know what to say to you. It’s so beautiful, Vladimir, I love it. When can you come to see it?”
“I’ll meet you in Paris on Friday. I have to go to Moscow the next day, for a week or two. You could stay in Paris if you want to, and get started on the decorating.” Natasha was thrilled at how much fun this was going to be. He had had all his homes before she joined him. This was the first home she was going to decorate for them.
She lay awake that night, thinking about it, and all the things she had to do. She finally fell asleep at four A.M., and the one thing she knew was that she was the luckiest woman in the world, and Vladimir was the most generous man. For all the risks that she took being with him, like the scare in Sardinia in June, and the isolated life she lived, they seemed like small sacrifices in the face of his generosity to her, and the golden life he shared with her. She had nothing to complain about, for all the comfort and security he gave her, she knew she had been blessed the day she met him. Her life with him seemed perfect to her. Compared to the orphanage and the factories, and the terrible people she had known who had been unkind to her, and the mother who had abandoned her, being with Vladimir was an incredible gift. She was grateful for it every day. And now they had a beautiful apartment in Paris. She was a very, very lucky girl. Of that, she was absolutely sure.
Chapter 7
As he had promised her he would, Vladimir flew from Italy to Paris on Friday afternoon, and arrived just in time to see the apartment before nightfall and the realtor left for the weekend. He had already had the money wired to an account in Switzerland earlier in the week. The owner did not want to be paid in France, and had moved to Switzerland the year before. They were giving up the apartment so they no longer had a residence in France, and had become tax refugees. They were anxious to sell, and couldn’t believe their good fortune when Vladimir offered to pay them all cash immediately. And he was able to get a better price from them by doing so. And the realtor was pleased too. The deal was done and sealed, and Vladimir had told Natasha that the apartment was theirs the day before. It was the fastest transaction the realtor had ever done, although she had done business with Russians before, and knew how quickly it could move with the right ones. They had plenty of cash available and were easy to do business with. They made up their minds, knew what they wanted, and were very straightforward.
She met them at the building, and Natasha held her breath when Vladimir walked in. She was suddenly panicked—what if he hated it, didn’t like the wood paneling, the windows, or the antique floors? He looked serious as he examined everything and walked around, and then after they’d been through the last room, he put his arms around her with a broad smile.
“It’s perfect, Natasha. You found us a spectacular apartment. We’re going to love being here.” She almost cried, she was so thrilled that he was pleased. She showed him all the little details then, and it was fully two hours before they left and went to the hotel. She was going to be spending a lot of time there while she shopped for the apartment, and even the George V was starting to feel like home.
He made love to her almost as soon as they walked into their suite, and they took a bath together and dressed for dinner. He was taking her to La Tour d’Argent, one of the fanciest restaurants in Paris, to celebrate their new home. And she couldn’t stop thanking him all through the meal.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you tomorrow,” he said over dinner. He had ordered caviar and champagne for both of them, and a shot of vodka for him. “But you’ll be busy here.” She knew she would, but she missed him when he was gone for that long. He had a lot to do in Russia now, with his new involvement in the mineral business. And she had overheard him talking about buying more oilfields, and they were drilling in the Baltic Sea. His empire was still expanding by leaps and bounds. It was hard to imagine that it could get any bigger, but it had in the last six months, and he was still fighting to acquire more. While other economies were failing, Vladimir was making bigger and bigger deals every day. He was insatiable in what he wanted to run and own.
They went back to the hotel after dinner, and she lay in his arms again, as he slowly began making love to her. He had missed her all week, and hated it when she wasn’t nearby, but he rarely took her to Moscow with him. He had too much to do there, she was only a distraction, and he knew that it wasn’t a happy place for her. She had too many bad memories there, and preferred waiting for him in London or on the boat, and now she would have the Paris apartment as another home. It was perfect for her, and she tried to meet his every fantasy and need as he made love to her, to show him how grateful she was for all he did for her. Their relationship was a trade-off of sorts, she gave him all she had to give of herself in exchange for all the material bounty he bestowed on her.