Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“That’s not it, I told you,” she insisted, and this time she did sound serious enough to make him frown.
“What is it then?”
“Mr. Fawkes sent for me earlier,” Fredericka shared uneasily. “He asked me questions about you.”
Sergei stiffened. “And?”
Fredericka started to babble. “In not so many words, he made it clear that if I’m not going to be your future wife, and when I obviously told him I’m not—-”
The billionaire’s lips tightened.
“He gave me this disapproving look and told me I shouldn’t let you besmirch – that’s the exact word Mr. Fawkes used, Sergei. Besmirch.” Her voice started to rise. “He thinks spending time with you will have my professional reputation besmirched as well as the law firm’s, and don’t you think that’s such a stupid thing? Does he really think it’s impossible for a man and a woman to be just friends?”
Yes, Sergei thought. It was impossible, but he wouldn’t let her know that since the illusion of friendship between them was what allowed him to keep her close.
“That’s the problem with this place, it’s still stuck in the Middle Ages, and I’m beginning to wonder why I’m even working here—-”
“Fredericka.” She fell silent at his quiet intrusion, and it finally dawned on her that she had gone off the rails in the past few minutes. “What exactly is the problem?”
“He thinks I’m your mistress, and he doesn’t want mistresses working for him.”
Ah. Sergei said calmly, “I will fix this.”
“No, no. You don’t have to do anything.”
“Your problems are due to my presence in your life, pchelka. Of course I must do something—-”
“I’m already sorting it out on my own,” she cut him off in a rush. “I told him I’m dating Julian Alexeyev—-”
The billionaire’s jaw clenched. “Is that so?”
“Anything to get him off my back,” Fredericka sighed.
Silence.
“Sergei?”
“You haven’t any need to go to such extent,” the billionaire said coldly. “You could have told him I was still dating Madeline Carter.”
“Oh.” The surprise in her voice was obvious, but so was the faint hurt underlining it, and his jaw clenched harder. What the hell had she expected, after telling him that she had used dating Julian Alexeyev as an excuse?
“Y-you’re still dating her?” The trembling note in her voice begged him to say no.
“Do you have a problem with it?” His hard tone demanded her to say yes so he could be done with all the lies.
Silence.
And then Fredericka answered woodenly, “I’m relieved.”
Chapter Seven
Fredericka
Friendship sucks. I stared at the mirror in front of me, knowing no amount of makeup would be able to conceal my swollen eyes, the result of having cried myself to sleep. God, this was so embarrassing. I was a full-grown adult, and I was crying over a guy who I wasn’t even dating. Was I twenty-nine going on thirteen?
I glared at myself in the mirror. Get a grip of yourself, Fredericka Spears. So what if I had cried last night? It was just...just to tick another item off our BFF bucket list.
Make each other cry.
That was all there was to it.
Reluctantly turning away, I finished changing, opting for a black hoodie and running tights. If not for Sergei sending me a text an hour ago, I would have conveniently pretended to assume today’s morning jog, scheduled a week ago, was canceled.
I didn’t really feel like seeing him, knowing that he was still dating Madeline Carter.
But it didn’t mean I was jealous, I thought defensively as I ran down the stairs. I was just...disappointed, that my friend was dating a woman who had once publicly ranted against Muslims, comparing the entire race to pests that had to be exterminated.
Outside my apartment, I found Sergei dressed in a black track jacket and matching pants, looking a thousand times more gorgeous and fashionable than I could be. I looked at him, and my heart started to hammer again, but this time it did so out of pain.
Did he spend last night with Madeline Carter?
The billionaire stepped forward. “Dobroye utro.”
“Good morning.” The brief smile on the billionaire’s face disappeared at my stilted tone.
We started to run, circling around the block in silence before heading down to the park. Most other billionaires I knew – or at least read about – had tons of security with them wherever he went, but Sergei was different.
Or rather Rockton, California was different. Every inch of the town either directly or indirectly belonged to the Grachyovs, and locals were well aware of the fact that they owed their livelihoods to the Russian clan. In this town, the Grachyovs were gods. People didn’t dare approach them without a reason, nor was anyone foolish enough to even contemplate harming them.
I stole a look at the god running next to me.
Were we really just friends?
And did he fuck Madeline last night?
The question tormented me the entire hour we ran, preventing me from having a normal conversation with the billionaire. Every time he spoke, I thought of that same voice, murmuring words of sweet nothings to the model’s ears, and my heart would squeeze so painfully I could barely breathe.