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)
Fyodor reluctantly agreed then, knowing that Sergei was right about his woman. Fredericka was a lovely girl, and he couldn’t have asked for a better daughter-in-law. But he also knew of her past and did not blame the younger woman for still struggling to trust his son.
The waiting limousine took Fyodor home while Sergei went straight to the basement. Slipping behind the wheel of his sports car, he drove to a nearby hotel, where his mother Tanya Darby was checked in.
“You’re late,” were the first words his mother uttered upon letting him in. A tall, beautiful brunette in her forties, she had a silk robe over a rumpled black dress, and there were large bags under her eyes.
“And you’re drunk,” Sergei returned coldly. Even if his mother had bothered to clear out the empty bottles of cognac from the room, he would still have known she was intoxicated. Tanya reeked of alcohol, and by the looks of it, his mother had also not showered for days.
Tanya returned to her seat and crossed her legs, saying nonchalantly, “It makes poverty bearable.” Born to a rich family and spoiled rotten by her parents, Tanya had lived all her life expecting to be pampered. She had dumped Fyodor for a wealthier husband, and when her second marriage hadn’t worked, she had moved on to a third husband.
But that last one hadn’t worked too, and even worse, the bastard’s lawyer had managed to convince the court that Tanya didn’t deserve any kind of alimony.
And so for the first time in her life, Tanya had found herself bankrupt and with absolutely no one to turn to – except for this man seated in front of her.
“A monthly sum will be deposited to your account—-”
“How much?” Tanya asked baldly.
Lips tightening at how vulgarly mercenary his mother was being, Sergei managed to answer in a level tone, naming a sum that visibly surprised Tanya.
“The deposits will continue for as long as you abide by my rules.”
“And those rules are?”
Sergei leaned back against his seat, saying simply, “Don’t contact any of my family.”
Tanya couldn’t help bristling at the way her son looked at her. How dare he? Had he forgotten that his father had been nothing but a Russian peasant, a lowly immigrant without even a college education to speak for while Tanya was a Darby?
“I’m your family, too, darling,” she chided him. “And no matter how much you deny it, my blood also runs in your veins.”
Sergei’s expression remained aloof at the reminder. “If, for whatever reason, you have a need to speak to me again, you will do so by contacting my lawyer from here on. I’ve already informed him of our arrangement, and he will be here tomorrow to have you sign a contract.”
“Don’t you trust my word?”
“No.” He came to his feet, effectively putting an end to the discussion.
When her son turned away, something in Tanya wanted to lash out at him, and she called out, “You don’t have to worry, you know.” All these years, she had chafed at how unfair life was, with the way all her sons appeared devoted to Fyodor’s trashy second wife and her equally trashy daughter. She was their mother, damn them, and they should have been loyal to her.
But instead all of them had treated her as if she didn’t even exist, and she had never forgiven them for that.
She watched Sergei pause as he reached the door. “You don’t worry me.”
Liar, Tanya thought. She might have no love for her sons, but it didn’t mean she didn’t know them the way only a mother could. Of the three, Sergei had always been the too-responsible one, the son who had willingly burdened himself with worries even at a young age.
“I just wanted to ease your mind in case you did,” Tanya said lightly. “You boys were just my insurance policies,” she revealed with a soft, cruel laugh. “And now it’s paying off, so why would I even consider ruining it?”
Sergei didn’t bother to answer, but his mother’s words stayed with him, the way Tanya had meant for it to.
When the billionaire made it home, he found Fredericka asleep, curled up in the living room sofa. Misha was also there, reading quietly on the couch opposite, his gaze focused on his iPad.
Having heard his older brother’s footsteps, Misha took his glasses off and stood up, murmuring wryly, “She insisted on waiting up for you.”
“And she failed,” Sergei observed, amused.
“I bet her she would,” Misha said with a grin, “and now she has to pay up by drinking cucumber shakes every morning for one week straight. You owe me, big brother.”
When his brother left, Sergei crouched down, and just looking at her made the sick feeling in his stomach disappear.
She was his life, his reason for happiness, and she didn’t even know it. No one knew how much she had changed him, and even his own father wasn’t aware of how much it meant that Sergei could actually smile just at the thought of her.