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)
“Come share my umbrella,” he murmured, and I didn’t even think of arguing. We started walking, holding hands like our time apart had never happened.
“Are you representing the Christakos twins now?”
I almost stumbled in shock, and I looked up at him, blurting out, “How did you know?”
He looked back at me, unsmiling. “So you are.”
I said slowly, “Yes.” I didn’t see any reason to deny it.
“And it will do no good if I ask you to turn the case over to someone else?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I have no quarrel with them, but the party you’re up against—-”
“Abraxam Davos?”
He nodded curtly. “He’s bad news, pchelka. You must be aware that he has no qualms about having his enemies tortured and murdered.”
I gazed at him with sudden understanding, and I asked softly, “Is that why you’re here?”
“If not for Davos,” he said without hesitation, “I would have let you continue punishing yourself.”
Riiiiight. But I couldn’t deny it because it was the truth.
“If you are determined to see this through—-”
“I am.”
His lips tightened. “Then at least promise me you will take care—-”
I nodded.
“And that you will not hesitate to ask me for help if you shall have a need to do so,” he finished.
I frowned. “Sergei—-”
“Promise me,” he said very softly, “or I will not hesitate to interfere and take this case off your hands.”
“Sergei!”
The billionaire’s hard expression didn’t soften. “Then your promise?”
Realizing that it was futile to argue, I said grudgingly, “I give you my word.”
“Good. And one last thing—-”
I stopped walking, arms crossing over my chest as I snarled accusingly, “You’re having too much fun extracting your pound of flesh.”
Sergei’s expression slowly eased, his lips curving into a smirk that should have irritated me but instead had my heart hammering even more violently against my chest. “I suppose so,” he admitted equably. “But I do have one last condition, and you will agree to it.”
My back stiffened with suspicion at the way his tone turned serious, and I asked warily, “What’s your condition?”
“If you tell me you do not want me in your life again, make sure you mean it.”
My throat tightened at the savage note in his voice. “Sergei—-”
“My mother has been a selfish creature all her life, and for as long as I can remember, she never hesitated to play with my father’s affections and her children’s. When she needed us, she would pretend to be what we wanted her to be. But when she didn’t, she made us feel like we were trash she couldn’t wait to get rid of.”
I whitened, never imagining that my moment of pettiness could dredge up such dreadful memories for Sergei. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Only few people know how bad it had been between my parents.” His grip suddenly tightening, he said harshly, “You are important to me, pchelka. But I will not allow myself to be manipulated—-”
I closed the distance between us, and as soon as his fingers loosened its hold, I hugged him as tightly as I could. “I promise,” I whispered against the hard, powerful wall of his chest. Heart aching at the pain I had inadvertently caused him, I said shakily, “No more games. No more lies.”
Even if being with him was like allowing history to repeat itself—-
Even if being with him was the most terrifying risk I had ever taken—-
I meant every word.
Chapter Ten
Sergei and Fredericka
One and a half year later
Oh my God, it was Sergei Grachyov in the flesh.
News traveled fast whenever hot Russian billionaires were concerned, and by the time Sergei had stepped out of his chopper, practically every woman on the strip had forgotten about the beauty of their surroundings, with its swaying palm trees, powder-fine sand, and the latest music streaming from the competing beachside bars.
The women only had one thought in mind: do anything and everything possible to get Sergei Grachyov’s attention.
But it was impossible, since the billionaire only had eyes for his phone.
An incessant number of clicks from mobile cameras followed the billionaire as he walked down the beach, his concentration fully engaged by whoever it was he was texting. Not once did he look up to see where he was going, the billionaire knowing that his security team would prevent anything unnecessary from obstructing his way.
And by anything, this included a woman who had pretended to trip in front of Sergei, hoping to stumble into his arms, but security literally lifted her off the billionaire’s path before she could reach him.
Another woman daringly untied her bikini top and threw it at Sergei, but the piece of clothing was caught by one of the billionaire’s bodyguards and returned to its owner together with a warning about possible litigation if she were to do it again.
And so it continued, with all the women failing to snag the billionaire’s attention. Their failure left them vexed and jealous, all of them wondering whom it could be that the billionaire was texting.