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)
Chapter Fourteen
The world as Fredericka knew it stopped existing the moment Sergei officially introduced her as the mother of his unborn child. The first major change was the shift in media coverage. It used to be that she appeared in headlines of dailies, and articles written about her were focused on the cases she handled. Now, she still did appear in headlines, but this included all sorts of tabloids and gossip rags, and the articles were more a collection of rumors and innuendos rather than facts and figures. They also all talked about what an older woman like her could have done to snag a gorgeous Russian billionaire like Sergei Grachyov.
“I think this is the best article about me so far,” Fredericka decided over breakfast one morning, and to prove her point, she turned the paper around so Sergei and the other Grachyovs could read the headlines.
Taking the newspaper from Fredericka’s hands, Seri Devereux read out loud, “Fredericka Spears, following in the footsteps of her mentor Amal Clooney.” A blonde with striking good looks in her early twenties, Seri was famous all over the globe for several reasons. One was because of her work as a seiyuu or voice actor, second was because she was the one girl that all the Grachyov men openly doted on and would readily kill for, and third was because she happened to be dating her stepbrother, Vassi Grachyov.
The second major change in her life, Fredericka mused, and something she was still reeling from if she had to be honest. Pregnancy seemed to have made her unable to say ‘no’ to Sergei, and before she knew it, the Russian billionaire had convinced her to move back to California and live with him and the rest of the Grachyovs in their sprawling mansion.
Since her mother’s death, the only people she had allowed herself to form attachments to were Anneke and Alyx and her family. When she had felt her life was too empty, she had only toyed with the idea of being someone’s girlfriend, and now she knew she had chosen the professor because while he was perfect on paper and he could make her heart skip a beat, he didn’t threaten her. Her world wouldn’t collapse if he left her or said no.
But Sergei was different. The Russian billionaire hadn’t just gotten under her skin but had found a way to permanently glue himself to a part of her heart. Even worse, Fredericka thought with just a tiny amount of unease, the other members of his family had somehow managed to make themselves just as important to her as well.
What was it with these Grachyovs that they made you want them to stay in your life forever?
“Is it true, Freddie?” she heard Seri ask.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, she asked, “What’s true?”
“That Amal’s your mentor?”
“Nope,” Fredericka admitted cheerfully, “but Sergei brought me once to an event, and George Clooney and Amal were there, and I sort of did a photo-bombing thing—-”
“Sort of?” Sergei coughed politely. As far as he could recall, Fredericka had practically pushed her way to the front in hopes of catching Amal Clooney’s attention.
Misha, the middle Grachyov brother, took the article from his sister’s hand and scanned the rest of it. Dark-haired and silver-eyed, Misha was the family’s genius, with two degrees under his belt – and counting – at the ripe old age of twenty-four. When he looked up, he said dryly, “I don’t think you should take this article as a compliment.”
“Why not?” Fredericka was confused.
“Because, my future sister-in-law—-”
Fredericka turned red and Sergei grinned.
“It’s saying that the two of you are hooking up with famous rich guys because you want trophy husbands.”
Her jaw dropped open, but before she could respond, Sergei leaned close to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s fine, pchelka.” His tone was silky smooth. “I’m fine with being a trophy husband. It means I can retire and you’ll start working for us, da?”
His siblings burst out laughing, and even the patriarch of the family, the intimidating ex-pugilist Fyodor Grachyov, was doing his best not to smile.
“No one’s going to be my trophy husband,” she protested.
But no one was listening to her. The other Grachyovs were too busy congratulating Sergei for finding the ideal wife.
Fredericka made a face, but she knew deep inside that she was just pretending to be mad. The truth was, she loved this family. If love at first sight was possible, then that was exactly how she felt the moment she had moved in with this rich, gorgeous bunch of lunatics. They had made her feel like family from day one, so much so that she couldn’t even recall what life was like before Sergei Grachyov and his family entered the picture.
Beside her, Sergei leaned close to her again, and she tried not to sniff appreciatively when she caught a whiff of his cologne. He had always smelled so good, but these days she just couldn’t get enough of his scent.