amy_rashelle: (ilena - here)
[personal profile] amy_rashelle
“So why don’t you tell me who you really are.”  Ilena propped her chin up on her hand as she stared down at Greg’s well formed torso.  Not too many men could appear half naked with pride and even fewer used her services.  It made moments like these a treat.

“Daniel Kingston,” he said easily.

“Your name is Greg,” she responded.

“Daniel is my first name.  I just go by Greg a lot.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I am not,” he argued.

She pursed her lips in consideration.  “All right, you are not a terrible liar, but you are lying right now.”  She brushed her thumb against his lips.  They were almost as well cared for as his manicured nails, but they were just a tad bit swollen now.  “You don’t look anything like a Daniel.  You’re a Greg.”

He kissed her thumb before pulling her further up to kiss down her chest.  “That’s who I am.  Take it or leave it.”

“Why are you here?”

“Deal with your boyfriend’s father.”  He paused briefly and pulled back to look at her.  “Is he your boyfriend?”

The corner of her mouth jerked upwards a little.  She was amused by the worry in his eyes.  “I have an exclusive contract with him,” she explained softly.  “He is a customer.  Occasionally I entertain his companions or guests.  Which leads me here in your arms.”  She kissed him again.  His mouth really was soft.  He gave as much as he took.  It was considerate of him, especially given her profession.

Pulling her head back for air, she looked down at him patiently.  “But you have yet to explain your presence.”

“I told you, I’m here for a deal.”

“As what?  A politician?  An emissary from another organization?  An assassin?”  She bit his lip.  “Police?”

“Would police be doing this?” he smirked, but groaned softly as she ground her hips into his playfully.

“Many,” she assured him and stopped before he became too loud.  “But most don’t stick around to discuss things.”

“We’ve already agreed I’m different.  So are you.”  His hands slid down her back and curved along her waist.  His voice softened as he stared at her belly button.  He shouldn't ask this question.  It was too revealing, too personal and he was on the job.  “Why did you leave?”

Her eyes dropped down.  She didn’t answer immediately.  London was a time she didn’t like talking about.  Those visits to the zoo were some of the few moments she could remember with a smile.  It was all behind her except for him.  In truth she had never expected to see him again.  Ever since that day she had always regarded the boy as a turning point, as proof that she didn’t need to succumb to the whims of the world or men.  In so many ways she owed him everything.

“I needed to leave,” she said quietly.  “My home is here.”

“What were you doing in London?”

“Working,” she murmured.  Her hand brushed across his face.  He turned enough so his lips could press against her palm.  He felt the tremors as he did so, but said nothing.  His eyes watched her intently, urging her to continue.  This was one of a dozen questions he had been eagerly wishing for an answer to.  He would guard it with his life and she somehow knew that.  Ilena lay down and wrapped herself up in his arms before she continued.

“I was sold to a British lord,” she began.  “He brought me from Moscow to London when I was nineteen.  I was his for two years before I worked up the courage to escape.  He held my passport and I didn’t have enough money to leave, so I rented a flat and slept with men for another three years.”  

She buried her head into Greg’s shoulder and closer her eyes.  The memory of the night she left Lord Malcolm was still fresh despite her best efforts to forget it.  The time spent with him had been the worst of her life, but she had learned what every woman needed to know about the nature of men.  They were monsters.  They took and never gave.  At least that’s what she had thought until a seventeen-year-old boy kissed her.

Greg’s voice was hard as he struggled not to sound too angry.  His arms wrapped around her securely.  “Men are animals,” he said tightly.  “They don’t….think about others.”

“Some men.”  She smiled at him.  “Others are like you.  Greg.”  She kissed him again.  “Now, you are lying about your name, but for the moment we’ll pretend I don’t know that.  Instead, why don’t you tell me what it is you do, Mr. Kingston?”

He smirked.  “I buy weapons and sleep with gorgeous women.”

“Ah, but you really could do better.”  She tapped his nose.  “For instance, learning Russian properly.  You have a terrible accent.”

“An oversight, I agree,” he sighed reluctantly.  “I don’t typically visit this part of the world.”

She kissed his neck slowly.  “When do you leave?”

“Two days,” he murmured.  His fingers ran through her hair possessively.  Could a man truly hold her in such devotion and desire without having ulterior motives?  Could he really want her as much as she wanted him?

“Will I see you again?”  She cursed herself for asking this.  Her voice was too timid, too sincere.

He pulled her close and kissed her hard.  She took that as a yes.
*                *                *                *
Early in the morning Ilena left him sleeping in bed.  She dressed and walked downstairs to Anton.  He was smoking in the foyer with a book in his hands.  He smiled as she descended the stairs.  “My dear, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Ilena smiled automatically.  “You are too kind, sir.”  He walked over to her and kissed her hand, holding it tightly.

“Did you learn anything new from our business associate?”  He grinned.  “I know he certainly enjoyed himself.”

Ilena nodded, her smile dimming some.  “His name is Daniel Kingston.  He has never been to Russia before.”  She hesitated.  “He’s not a threat to you.  The deal would be in your favor.”

Anton was quiet for a moment.  He had used Ilena often and typically trusted her judgment over all of his men.  As a woman and a prostitute she had a very unique grasp of common sense and details.  If he could marry her he would have.  There was something different about her, though.  Something she was holding back this time.  “You like him,” he said softly.

She took a slow breath to calm her nerves.  “He is a good man,” she said quietly.  “He treated me well.”

“Then he deserves to be rewarded.  So do you.”  He kissed her mouth.  She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, but the taste of cigars was thick and harsh against the softer memory of Greg.  She wanted him again.

Anton pulled back and smoothed his hand over her face.  “Go home and rest, my dear.  You’ve done well.  I will see you later.”  He gently tapped his finger beneath her chin and she smiled at him again.  Kissing his hand, she murmured her goodbyes and left the building.  He stood where he was as he watched the door.  One of his enforcers walked out and he glanced back at him.  “Make the deal with Kingston then cut him loose.  And find out everything you can about him.  She was lying.”
*                *                *                *
The Old Man looked back at Greg suspiciously.  "So they just did the deal and let you go?  No questions?  No harassment?”

Greg shook his head.  He had arrived in London that morning and looked good for having taken a ten-hour flight.  “They had a prostitute on their payroll question me, but that is all.”

He frowned.  “So they’re using women now?  We’ll have to start monitoring them too.  What’s her name?”

Greg hesitated.  “Sir, I’m sure it was just a one time thing.  They wanted to dump weapons that we wanted to purchase and wished to be certain I wasn’t FSB.”

The Old Man snorted.  “With your accent?  Harris, no one would consider you to be FSB.  Name.”

He sighed.  “Ilena Gavrikov.”

It was like a bolt straight through his body.  The Old Man’s hand froze before he could write anything down.  “Gavrikov?” he demanded, using a Russian accent to say the name.  “You are sure?  Ilena Gavrikov?”

Greg frowned slightly.  The Old Man wasn’t difficult to read, but reactions like this were rare.  Usually Daniel was the one to bring out the more colorful moments.  “Yes, sir.  Ilena Gavrikov.  She…knew I was lying, but she said nothing.”

“Why?” he demanded.  “Why did she protect you?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a brief knock at the door before his secretary walked in.  "Sir, I have a call for you from the director of MI5."

The Old Man frowned.  "What?  Why?  What's it about?"

"They just found Lord Malcolm dead in his flat, sir," she said softly.  "Apparently he hung himself this morning."

Greg's face remained calm as the Old Man considered this news.  Lord Malcolm was notorious in their world as an untouchable bastard with ties to the Royal Family.  As long as he didn't kill anyone the order was to leave him be.  "Do they have suspects?"

"No, sir.  That's what they wished to talk to you about."

"Tell him I'll call back."  She walked out quickly.  Greg glanced up at the Old Man.  "May I go, sir?"

He pursed his lips tightly, but merely waived his hand.  “Get out of here.  Tell Kingston he better not get pneumonia again.”  Greg didn’t need to be told twice.  He got up and walked out of the room.  When he was alone the Old Man sat back in his chair and mused over the situation.  Greg Harris was sleeping with Ilena Gavrikov.  Greg certainly didn’t need to use those words.  It was a given that the Old Man had begun to accept.  Greg was a smart man who knew not to let women get to his head.  The bedroom was another matter.

The problem was that Ilena Gavrikov was not a typical woman.  She had her own head and she used it well.  For years he had wondered where Daniel got his skills and intelligence.  The suspicions were now laid to rest.  Clearly his mother was not the silly woman he thought she had been.  After all, a mother had to be cold to abandon her only daughter for a new life and Daniel was notably cold and withdrawn.  What kind of mother could she have been to him after an act like that?

He needed to put a lid on this fast.  With Greg as the new contact with the Krylov family he could potentially be seeing more of Ilena.  That meant more talking.  More information passing between the two.  Sex.  Trust.  Love.  The very last thing the Old Man needed was for the Ace of Clubs to be sleeping with the Ace of Spades’ sister.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-06-22 02:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow. I really love this. I totally love the last line. You write Greg really well, and of course the Old Man. And Ilena, I love her, she's so awesome. This is really good! More soon?
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