My Russian Beast: Standalone Billionaire Romance (7 page)

Unable to help it, Sergei slowly reached for her cheek, and the feel of her skin under his fingers made him want to close his eyes so he could savor the sensation.

“I missed you,” he muttered tightly. He expected her to smile his words away, like she usually did when he crossed the lines of their friendship, but this time she only stared at him, stared at him like she hungered for his touch, like she couldn’t wait until she could touch herself while pretending it was his hands she felt---

Ah.

And then he heard her say, “I missed you, too.” Her words were so low they were barely audible, but even so they reached his ears, and with it he knew that things had inevitably changed.

Not completely, but just enough. Not to the point that she had accepted the reality of how perfect they were together…but just enough at least for her to understand that she would never be able to see him as a mere friend.

Time,
he told himself tautly. He just needed to give her more time, and he would give her that, even if he was sure as hell every tortuous second of waiting would kill him.

“D-do you want to come in?”

He managed a smile. “I’d love to, but I can’t.”
Because if I did, I can’t promise I won’t try to fuck you.
“I still need to go back to the office.” A lie, but it was necessary.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?” he murmured silkily, teasing her.

“A bit.” When Sergei’s eyes widened in obvious surprise, her cheeks turned pink, and she stammered, “I was just joking.”

“Of course.” But it was damn obvious that she wasn’t, just as it was equally obvious by the way she was biting her lip and shifting restlessly on her feet that she was going to do something about her disappointment.

His hooded glance swept over her, noting the way her naked breasts had swelled under her gaping pajama top.
Sweet, beautiful little idiot,
he thought yet again. His little bee didn’t even seem to realize that her nipples had become fully erect and were poking against the thin cotton that hid them from his gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow instead, da? Let’s have breakfast together?”

“Da.” Her voice was breathless, her eyes still shining, but this time out of excitement.

He bent close, and she drew her breath as his lips touched her cheek, alarmingly close to the corner of her mouth. “Good night,” he murmured against her skin, deliberately letting his lips linger.

“G-good night.”

Pulling back, Sergei gazed at her one last time before walking away. He felt her eyes following him, and the way her gaze burned told him he hadn’t made a mistake. She was going to touch herself as soon as he left---

And so would he
, he thought grimly. As soon as he reached his place, he would jerk himself off, imagining that it was his beautiful little bee holding his cock---

This was how both of them would survive until Fredericka learned to trust him.

W
alking
into the dining room of his family home, Sergei Grachyov stopped dead when the first thing he caught sight of was his baby stepsister Seri Devereux, being thoroughly kissed by the man who held her possessively in his arms.

That man was Sergei’s own brother, Vassi.

“Dammit, Vassi,” the billionaire muttered irritably under his breath. Although the family already had over a year to adjust to the fact that Seri and Vassi were in love with each other, it hadn’t made the sight of their baby sister in a passionate clinch any easier. As far as he and the other men in the Grachyov family were concerned, Seri would always be their baby girl, and no man would ever do.

Squeaking upon discovering that her oldest brother had walked on them, Seri immediately tried pulling away from Vassi, who relented reluctantly, lifting his mouth away from hers.

But Vassi being Vassi, he only did so to change tactics. “Good morning, Sergei.” The respectful murmur was but a wicked taunt, Vassi bending his head to bite the curve of Seri’s ear right after.

Sergei swore under his breath.

At the same time, the door to the dining room swung open once more, and in came the middle Grachyov brother. Having overheard Sergei swear, he asked, “What’s wrong?” Then he saw Seri in the circle of Vassi’s arms, which were positioned right below Seri’s breasts, and Misha swore, too.

Seri turned red. “Vassi, please.”

But Vassi only gave her a devilish smile, which of course made her heart race.
He was such a rascal
, she thought helplessly. He had been like this from the very start, always wanting to yank their older brothers’ chains because seeing them pissed off gave him too much pleasure.

The door swung open again, and this time it was Fyodor Grachyov, the patriarch of the family, stepping inside. At the sight of her stepfather, Seri didn’t even think, guiltily elbowing Vassi away as she rushed forward.

Vassi’s grunt of pain had Misha and Sergei fist-bumping each other behind their father’s back.

“
Dobroye utro
,’ Seri said extra brightly as she curled an arm around Fyodor’s and walked with him to the dining table, her three stepbrothers following suit from behind.

“Good morning,
kroshka
,” Fyodor murmured indulgently. He watched his family settle in their seats, taking pleasure at seeing them together and at peace. Even now, the memories of the time that they had once been divided still haunted him, and Fyodor was determined he would not let such a thing happen again.

He would do everything possible to prevent his family from suffering such pain, even if it called for meddling – which was what he was about to do. The 44-year-old billionaire bided his time patiently, allowing his children to enjoy their meal leisurely. Only when they had moved to coffee did he finally broach the subject that was uppermost on his mind, turning to his eldest son, saying, “Today is the day Fredericka will leave,
da
?”

“
Da
.” Sergei’s face was impassive, his tone unruffled.

Misha raised a brow. “And you are not bothered by this?”

Sergei’s brow lifted back at his brother. “Why should I?” The question was asked with genuine curiosity. Did his family not know him better?

Precisely two hours later, Sergei arrived at the airport to see Fredericka off and the sight of her swollen eyes and red nose almost made him smile, and the temptation became harder to resist when she glared up at him, snapping, “What part of ‘you don’t need to see me off’ did you not understand?” He shrugged, saying, “I had time to spare.”

The boarding announcement for her flight sounded before she could reply, and Fredericka’s heart became so heavy it was a miracle she could still bear its weight without struggling. She gazed up at the Russian billionaire, a part of her unable to believe how much he had managed to make himself important to her at so short a time.

And he wasn’t even her boyfriend, dammit!

“So…” Fredericka gnawed on her lip, her voice trailing off as her mind turned blank. She suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say or, more to the point, she couldn’t think of anything worth saying other than ‘
are you okay with me leaving just like this?’

The Russian billionaire’s lips curved in a gentle smile. “Take care of yourself, da?”

His words had her torn between bursting into tears and wanting to smack the smile off his face.
That was all he was going to say? Really?
Fredericka swallowed hard. “D-don’t promise you’re always gonna call.” Her tone was brusque, but the way it shook at the end killed her. “We both know you won’t. K-knowing you, you’d be too busy working and flirting you’d forget me in a blink.”

But Sergei only chuckled, saying nothing.

Frustration filled her, and she choked, “I mean, who am I to you, right? I’m probably just a nuisance.” As soon as the words came out, Fredericka wished she could bite off her tongue.
I’ve hit rock bottom,
she realized sickly. She had become what she swore she would never be – one of those clingy girls who acted like they couldn’t survive one second without a guy at their side.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and told herself there was still time to change. In fact, Florida was
the
best solution right now. Over two thousand miles of distance would teach her how to be happily single. Her move might even pave the way to a new romance and---

Fingers cupped her chin, cutting through her thoughts as it made her look up, and her gaze clashed with amused dark eyes.

She immediately forgot all about finding a new romance as her thoughts were once again consumed with despair. He was so beautiful and sophisticated, dammit. Of course he would forget her, and it would hurt so bad!

“You should go now,” the billionaire advised softly, “if you don’t want to miss your plane.”

And oh my God, now he was acting like he couldn’t wait to get rid of her!

“I really am a nuisance to you, aren’t I?” Fredericka couldn’t help choking out.

“My favorite nuisance,” he murmured gallantly.

“Ha!” She blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay, thinking that jokes were half meant. She may be his favorite, but he said it himself. She
was
a nuisance to him.

“A uniquely adorable nuisance,” he continued as his hands settled on her shoulders, “who’s about to miss her flight if she doesn’t get moving…right now.” And with that, he turned her around so she would be facing the queues.

And then she felt it, a tiny nudge from behind, as if the billionaire was urging her to get on with it and leave.

Fredericka walked away without a word.

When she heard him say ‘take care,
pchelka
’, she neither allowed herself to slow down nor look back.
Talk to the effing hand,
she thought numbly. She boarded the plane in a daze. Wasn’t the Russian billionaire unusually callous in his treatment? Even if he wasn’t as unaffected as she was by their parting, couldn’t he at least…
pretend
?

An assortment of delays had the plane taking off nearly an hour later, and as the force pushed her back against her seat, she told herself firmly,
It’s over.
That was that for her and the Russian billionaire. Plopping the plane’s headphones in place, she randomly chose a music station to listen to, and a jazz cover of
Close to You
started to play. For some stupidly sentimental reason, the lyrics reminded her of the Russian billionaire, and her eyes started to tear up.

Oh no, this couldn’t be happening. She was an adult for God’s sake, and she couldn’t be crying over someone she wasn’t even in love with!

But despite everything, a lone teardrop still managed to track down her cheek, and it heralded the torrent of tears that followed soon after. Fredericka weepily asked the stewardess for a box of tissues and spent the entire flight crying and blowing her nose as quietly as she could.

Thank God she hadn’t told Alyx she was arriving tonight,
Fredericka thought as she crumpled another ball of tissue and pushed it down inside the vomit bag. She didn’t think she was ready to handle all of Alyx’s questions. Right now, she just wanted to wallow in self-pity.

Time dragged ever so slowly, but when the plane finally landed, it still felt too soon. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand one last time, she inhaled several times and told herself she could do it. In Florida, she would be just one step away from being state’s attorney. That was her ultimate goal, and that was something to be happy about.

So
be happy, Fredericka Spears.

Fredericka got to her feet, and when she stepped out of the plane, trusty black legal bag in hand, the first thing she saw was the achingly familiar figure of Sergei Grachyov. The Russian billionaire stood a few feet away from the stair car, a pair of opaque shades dominating his gorgeous face. In his pin-striped suit and with a dozen of bodyguards surrounding him, the billionaire made a tremendously breathtaking sight, and Fredericka couldn’t blame how the other passengers tended to slow down to get their fill of him.

The old woman behind Fredericka loudly cleared her throat.

Oops.
Turning red, she forced her shaking legs to move, feeling all the while that she could topple any second.
Was it really him? What was he doing here? What did this mean?
The questions swirled inside her mind even as cold sweat enveloped her body. She felt so out of control, with the way the Russian billionaire’s presence had made her mood swing violently like a pendulum. From the pits of despair she now found herself in the throes of bliss, and that it was because of
him
was infinitely terrifying.

When she made it to the ground, she couldn’t help glancing at him, waiting for any kind of sign, but his beautiful face remained impassive. Fredericka started to walk towards him slowly, her body trembling harder at the way his dark gaze followed her every move.

When she finally reached him, Sergei slowly took off his sunglasses, and she inhaled sharply as their eyes met.
Gorgeous, too gorgeous,
she thought dizzily.
And crafty as hell, damn him!
He could have told her he was coming here, too!

Fredericka took another deep breath, preparing to give him a piece of her mind.

But then his lips started to curve just as he murmured huskily, “Hello,
pchelka
.”

Ah.

She burst into tears instead.

The Russian billionaire laughed softly, which incensed her enough to make Fredericka struggle as he tried to draw her in his arms.

“I hate you, Sergei Grachyov,” she muttered against his chest even as her eyelids closed in sheer relief.
Home.
It was all she could think of even as his crushing embrace threatened to cut off her oxygen supply. In this man’s arms, she was…home.

“I had a meeting I couldn’t cancel earlier,” she heard him murmur above her head. “But as soon as I was done, I used our jet to get here and still arrived before you did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here, too?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me if I had,” she heard him reason above her head. He pulled away, looking down at her with a mocking smile playing on his lips. “You always seem to forget I can afford to do most things people can’t.”

“It’s hard to remember you’re a billionaire,” she snarled under her breath, “when you always make me pay every time we eat out.”

“Because we’re friends,” he dismissed easily.

She made a face. “Why do I feel like you’re conning me every time you say that?” But she wasn’t really mad, and she had a nasty, shameful feeling he knew she was feeling the exact opposite. When he took hold of her hand and led her out of the tarmac, she could only let him, unable to muster even the strength to murmur a single word of protest.

Immigration controls practically laid out the red carpet for them as they walked past, and Fredericka was shocked to find paparazzi instantly swarming towards them the moment they left the airport. The press wasn’t ever this intrusive back in Rockton, and Fredericka secretly welcomed the way the Russian billionaire drew her protectively towards her side as his security cleared the way to his limousine.

As they drove away, she looked at him ruefully, saying, “I wondered about your diva’s entourage a while ago---” She caught sight of the way color stained Sergei’s high-boned cheeks, and she said hurriedly, “But I totally get it now.”

Sergei shook his head, half-amused and half-irritated at being called a ‘diva’ by the woman who had been the object of his desire for so long.
A diva.
Only Fredericka Spears would have dared call him such a thing to his face---

And survive
, he thought with a mental sigh. He wanted to fuck her too much to kill her, after all.

“Where are we going?” Her inquiring voice drew his gaze back to her. Fredericka’s gray eyes were sparkling now, a far cry from how dull they had seemed back in California. “I haven’t checked in yet,” she was saying, and all the billionaire could do was stare at her as she chatted away in an unusually perky voice. That she was happy and excited was very much evident, and knowing that
he
was the reason for it made the billionaire clench his fists, the only way to keep his hands off her.

Ah, pchelka.

How could one woman be so impressively smart in one field and be silly in remarkably equal measures in another? How could Fredericka not realize that she was meant to be his forever?

“Sergei? Are you listening?” Fredericka was staring at him, bemused.

He forced a smile. “
Prosti
.
” I’m sorry.
“Were you asking about checking in at your hotel?”

“If it’s out of the way---”

“It’s not, but there is no need to bother.” When she blinked at him, he said simply, “I canceled your booking.”

“What?”

“I want you to concentrate on just me in the forty-eight hours I’ll be here,” he drawled smoothly, “which is why I thought it’s better that you stay at my apartment---”

“Since when did you have an apartment in Miami?” Fredericka gasped.