Page 69 of The Unseen
“Evening, Mr. Block.”
Valentina glanced at Dmitri in surprise. How often did he come here?
“I own this hotel.” Valentina detected a note of pride in his voice despite his stony expression.
“Are there others like me?” she asked as she followed Dmitri up the stairs.
He stopped and turned to look at her. “You’re not as naïve as I first imagined.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That doesn’t concern you. Come.”
Dmitri knocked on a door at the end of the passage, and a familiar voice from within bid them to enter. Timothy Mayhew was sitting in a wing chair by the fire, reading. He was in his shirtsleeves but wore a tie and a pair of crisply pressed trousers.He set aside his book, sprang to his feet, and came forward to greet them, behaving as naturally as if they’d come for tea.
“Good evening, Valentina. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Dmitri,” he said, shaking her cousin’s hand.
“I’ll be downstairs in the parlor, Tim. Just send her down when you’ve finished. There’s a good man.”
Dmitri departed without further ado, leaving Valentina with Timothy Mayhew, who locked the door and invited her to sit down. “Would you care for a drink? There’s sherry, and brandy if you require something stronger.”
Valentina wanted to rage at him, to kick him in the shins or scratch his eyes out, but she mutely accepted a glass of sherry, her gaze pinned to the tips of her shoes. There was no point in making things more difficult. She’d only find herself back here another night, possibly with another man. At least Mr. Mayhew was courteous and respectful. She hoped he would continue to be. She took a sip of sherry and wondered what she was meant to do next.
“Valentina, I’ll have you know I’ve never done this before. I am married and have four children. My youngest are ten-year-old twin girls. My wife never recovered properly after their birth, and we haven’t lived as husband and wife since. I’m very lonely, you see. The lack of intimacy does something to a marriage. It chips away at the core day by day, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind after a decade of skirting around the issue and covering one’s true feelings with pleasantries,” he added, clearly hoping she’d pity him. But there was no pity in her heart, only resentment. It wasn’t her fault his wife didn’t share his bed, nor was it her responsibility to assuage his loneliness. She was heartbroken and lonely for Alexei, but she kept her grief to herself and didn’t cause anyone pain to make herself feel better.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” she said. “What would you have me do?”
“I’d like to watch you undress,” he said softly. “I’ll help you with any hooks or buttons, if you require.”
“I can manage, Mr. Mayhew. Thank you.”
“Won’t you call me Tim?”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
She knew she was being unnecessarily rude, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him by his Christian name. That would make the situation more intimate and she needed to keep a barrier between herself and the man who was about to violate her. She would not fight him, or accuse him of rape, but it was rape all the same in her estimation. He knew full well that she’d never have agreed to this meeting had she not been coerced, and he didn’t care. Dmitri might have been the orchestrator, but Timothy Mayhew was a willing and eager participant.
Valentina undressed down to her corset and underwear. She was still wearing her stockings, but she didn’t think that would matter.
“Let down your hair. It’s so lovely. So golden,” Mr. Mayhew said, his voice dreamy. He was still fully dressed, sitting by the fire, legs crossed. He didn’t have the appearance of a man who hadn’t done this before. He was relaxed and in control, enjoying every moment.
Valentina obediently took out the pins, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders. Mr. Mayhew smiled. “You are very beautiful.”
She remained silent. What was there to say? Thank you? You’re very kind? She hoped he wouldn’t kiss her. She couldn’t bear that. The only man who’d ever kissed her was Alexei, and she wanted to hold on to that memory and not have it besmirched by this pervert whose trousers were bulging obscenely as he gazed upon her.
He finally got to his feet and came toward her, but instead of facing her, he came up behind her. Valentina stiffened, not sure what to expect. Timothy Mayhew wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He slid his other hand into hercorset, cupping her breast and rubbing his thumb against her nipple. Valentina shuddered with revulsion, but her reaction seemed to please Mr. Mayhew. Perhaps he thought she was trembling with desire. He brushed his lips against the curve of her neck, then began to kiss her in earnest, forging a trail of feathery kisses down her neck and across her bare shoulder.
The arm that held her against his chest moved downward as Mr. Mayhew deftly pushed down her knickers and allowed them to fall to the floor around her ankles. Valentina’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest, but she did nothing to stop him. His hand slid between her legs, stroking and probing in a way meant to arouse her while his engorged manhood ground against her buttocks. She wanted to scream, but the sound died in her throat. Instead, she allowed her mind to float free, imagining that the fingers belonged to Alexei and it was their wedding night. The fantasy made it easier to bear, and she relaxed slightly, leaning back against Mr. Mayhew in a way that seemed to please him immensely.
“There now. I knew you’d like it,” he whispered. “Lie down on the bed.”
She lay down and watched with surprising detachment as Mr. Mayhew quickly undressed and reached for a square packet that rested atop the bedside table. He ripped into it and extracted something that looked like a rubber circle.
“What’s that?” she asked, alarmed.
“It’s a French letter.”
“A what?”
