Read Online Billionairess Thief (An Erotic Tale) by Leo Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leo Sullivan
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thirty pounds. The diamond was given to the mine’s owner, who was astonished by the spectacular find. A diamond cutter and appraiser were quickly flown in. The diamond was cut into nine large stones, and one hundred smaller ones valued at over 200 million dollars. The whole operation was to be clandestine, and it would have been, had it not been for the fact that the guy who appraised the diamond was in the business of purloining precious jewels for his benefit. John Micheves, a seventy-one year old jeweler and gemologist also worked subterfuge with the netherworld of thieves. He and my grandfather went back decades, robbing plutocrats for millions of dollars in jewelry.
The proprietor of the diamond mine was Thomas Cullen. He sold the precious stones to British Monarchy. Originally, the diamonds were to be smuggled out of Africa and be put on display in the Tower of London with Britain’s other crown jewels next to the Sovereign Royal scepter. My father and his operatives, after careful reconnaissance and key furtive information provided by the jeweler, Micheves, discovered that at the last minute, on a sudden whim, the monarchy decided to sell the precious stones to the Russians for an exorbitant amount of money. That was when my family decided to abandon the mission. Russia is known for being the most cutthroat and ruthless nation in the world when it comes to the precious diamond exchange.
My grandfather once admonished to me that the Russians were the ones who invented espionage and thievery, it was their common way of life. He said they were not to be dealt with under any circumstance. At the time, I didn’t know that my great-grandmother had been killed for trying to steal from the Russians. She had been skinned alive, doused with gasoline and burned. The Russians delivered her body to our doorstep in America. That was a clear message to let us know that they knew who we were and where we lived. The Russian’s name was Nestor Kativor.
In the end, I convinced my father that I too would abandon the mission, and that I was going to stay in Africa for an extended two-day period to do some shopping and a little bit of sightseeing. In reality, the jeweler, Micheves had debriefed my father and grandfather as I sat on the hotel bed in a smoke filled room, listening, dreaming. I knew what time the Russians would arrive, and I knew what room they were staying in. I know if it was any way possible, I was going to steal the diamonds. What I didn’t know was how I was going to do it. But I had every intention of doing it, and nothing and no one was going to stop me.
My reverie was disturbed when I detected movement in my peripheral vision. I looked over and saw the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life take a seat across from me. He was tall, dark, and gorgeous. He wore a tailored gray suit, his brawny shoulders were wide, his skin was tanned bronze, and his blond hair was slightly mussed, giving him that untamed urbane look, combined with a sexy five o’clock shadow. He turned and caught me staring at him. He had the most dazzling emerald colored eyes. We exchanged curt smiles as his eyes roamed the contours of my svelte figure. I had intentionally positioned my body to show off my hourglass figure.
Instantly, I got moist and began to throb between my legs. Then, it dawned on me that his face looked familiar. His features, I remembered. I found myself leaning forward and craning my neck as I began to squint my eyes, causing my smile to turn into a frown. The handsome man I was admiring was none other than Mark Gotti, Johnny Gotti’s youngest son. He and I used to play together when we were children. As teenagers, we attended the same schools in Europe. It seemed like ages since I’d last seen Mark. I was twenty-eight years old, and we were about the same age. I suddenly found myself glaring at him disdainfully. He and his family had betrayed our trust. There was no longer honor amongst
The proprietor of the diamond mine was Thomas Cullen. He sold the precious stones to British Monarchy. Originally, the diamonds were to be smuggled out of Africa and be put on display in the Tower of London with Britain’s other crown jewels next to the Sovereign Royal scepter. My father and his operatives, after careful reconnaissance and key furtive information provided by the jeweler, Micheves, discovered that at the last minute, on a sudden whim, the monarchy decided to sell the precious stones to the Russians for an exorbitant amount of money. That was when my family decided to abandon the mission. Russia is known for being the most cutthroat and ruthless nation in the world when it comes to the precious diamond exchange.
My grandfather once admonished to me that the Russians were the ones who invented espionage and thievery, it was their common way of life. He said they were not to be dealt with under any circumstance. At the time, I didn’t know that my great-grandmother had been killed for trying to steal from the Russians. She had been skinned alive, doused with gasoline and burned. The Russians delivered her body to our doorstep in America. That was a clear message to let us know that they knew who we were and where we lived. The Russian’s name was Nestor Kativor.
In the end, I convinced my father that I too would abandon the mission, and that I was going to stay in Africa for an extended two-day period to do some shopping and a little bit of sightseeing. In reality, the jeweler, Micheves had debriefed my father and grandfather as I sat on the hotel bed in a smoke filled room, listening, dreaming. I knew what time the Russians would arrive, and I knew what room they were staying in. I know if it was any way possible, I was going to steal the diamonds. What I didn’t know was how I was going to do it. But I had every intention of doing it, and nothing and no one was going to stop me.
My reverie was disturbed when I detected movement in my peripheral vision. I looked over and saw the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life take a seat across from me. He was tall, dark, and gorgeous. He wore a tailored gray suit, his brawny shoulders were wide, his skin was tanned bronze, and his blond hair was slightly mussed, giving him that untamed urbane look, combined with a sexy five o’clock shadow. He turned and caught me staring at him. He had the most dazzling emerald colored eyes. We exchanged curt smiles as his eyes roamed the contours of my svelte figure. I had intentionally positioned my body to show off my hourglass figure.
Instantly, I got moist and began to throb between my legs. Then, it dawned on me that his face looked familiar. His features, I remembered. I found myself leaning forward and craning my neck as I began to squint my eyes, causing my smile to turn into a frown. The handsome man I was admiring was none other than Mark Gotti, Johnny Gotti’s youngest son. He and I used to play together when we were children. As teenagers, we attended the same schools in Europe. It seemed like ages since I’d last seen Mark. I was twenty-eight years old, and we were about the same age. I suddenly found myself glaring at him disdainfully. He and his family had betrayed our trust. There was no longer honor amongst
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