Chapter Sixteen
IT WAS HALF-PAST EIGHT in the evening when a matte black chopper bearing the logo of Grachyov Enterprises landed on the helipad of the family’s corporate headquarters. The CEO and president of the company, Fyodor Grachyov, was the first one to step out, followed closely by his eldest son Sergei.
Seeing the executives lined up to greet them, Fyodor grinned, and the sight of it had everyone cheering. It meant that another multibillion-dollar-deal had been successfully closed, and as was tradition for the company, it also meant bonuses for everyone, all the way down to the rank and file.
When Sergei joined him, Fyodor said, “You’re doing it again.”
“What?” It was hard to hear his father over the deafening roar coming from the chopper, whose engine was still running.
This time, Fyodor waited until they made it to the elevator and were on their way down to the lobby. Turning to his son, he said, “You were doing it again: smiling without reason.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Nyet.” A grin curling on his lips, Fyodor continued matter-of-factly. “I’ve instructed security to make sure they save the footage of every instance they see you doing it. It shall be my wedding gift for Fredericka, a scrapbook full of your candid photos.”
Sergei cursed, and his father laughed.
By the time the pair made it to the lobby, the two was arguing heatedly, with Sergei threatening to resign as vice president if Fyodor pushed on with his plans.
On their way out of the building, Sergei’s phone vibrated, and Fyodor saw his son’s face harden as he read his text.
“Is it Fredericka?” he asked abruptly.
“No,” Sergei said slowly. “But it is a matter that does require my immediate attention.” Looking up, he asked apologetically, “Can you let Fredericka know I will be a bit late?”
“It can’t be about work, can it?” Although he had been gradually increasing Sergei’s workload in preparation for his son’s eventual promotion to CEO, Fyodor still knew everything that went on with his company. Right now, he couldn’t think of anything related to work that would warrant such concern.
Knowing his father would keep on digging until he was given a satisfactory answer, Sergei lied, “I need to meet with Elsa Nilsson, and you must keep it from Fredericka.”
Fyodor’s face became grim. “Are you cheating on your fiancée?”
“No, but Elsa is threatening to make up stories about us, and I’m only meeting her to teach the woman a lesson.”
“Then there is no need to lie about it.”
He shook his head. “You know how Fredericka is, Papa. She still has issues, and until I have my ring on her finger, I’m not taking any risk that could cause her to bolt.”
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.
The day he had found his mother fucking another man, he had initially thought that he had only lost the ability to trust a woman. But gradually, he had come to realize that the impact of his mother’s gross betrayal had been worse. It had also destroyed his ability to be happy for himself.
He had been happy when Fyodor had found true love with his stepmother Marianna. He had been happy when Misha received another award for his groundbreaking work, when Vassi achieved recognition in his profession, or whenever Seri had been selected for a project.
All these things had made Sergei happy as a son and as a brother.
But that had been it.
It was as if the child in him had blamed himself for what happened, and even growing up to adulthood, Sergei had been unable to shake off the guilt. He had been the eldest child, and he should have done something. He should have spent more time with his mother. He should have seen the signs early on and warned his father. He should have done something, but he hadn’t, and it had destroyed his family.
How could he allow himself to feel happy knowing that?
In front of him, Fredericka started to stir, and her eyes slowly drifted open. “You’re back,” she said groggily.
“I am.” And because he couldn’t help it, he caught her lips with his, not letting up even though she had squeaked in surprise and tried to push him away.
When he finally lifted his head, she half-wailed, “I hadn’t brushed my teeth!”
Sergei only laughed as he swept her up in his arms.
“I’m too heavy,” she protested as he headed towards the stairs. She was already in her fourth month, and she had gained enough weight that all of her jeans no longer fit.
“I am no weakling, pchelka ,” the billionaire murmured mildly. “You weight is nothing to me.”
“Let’s see if you can keep saying that,” she mumbled under breath, “when I’m in my third trimester.” When they reached their room, Sergei took her straight to the bed and began undressing her. She finally noticed the strange, drawn look on his beautiful face, and she asked worriedly, “Sergei?”
But instead of answering, he only unzipped himself and sank his cock straight into her.
Ooooooh.
He started to move, and she fell back against the bed, forgetting what she was about to ask him.
They went out the next day to shop for clothes, and when she stepped out of the fitting room to show him the dress she was thinking of buying, she saw Sergei on the lounge chair, a brooding look on his face.
This time, she hurried to him, asking straight away, “ Chto ne tac ?” What’s wrong? She rarely spoke to him in Russian because even now, she still felt awkward and self-conscious about her less-than-perfect accent. But right now, it was the only way she could speak to him, knowing how Sergei detested speaking about anything personal in public.
When he only stared at her, she could feel her eyes start to sting. Maybe the hormones were to blame again, or maybe it was just...time. She looked at him now, and the doubts that used to eat at her were completely gone.
Now, she looked at him and all she felt was love...and trust. Now, she looked at him and she no longer worried about him hurting or leaving her. Now, she looked at him, and she knew she wanted to be to him what Sergei had been to her—-
Someone who loved her. Trusted her. Cherished her.
Her lips trembling, Fredericka whispered, “Please tell me.” Moving forward to stand between his knees, she shakily took his hand to place it on her tummy. “Because it goes the other way, too, you know. The baby and I are here for you.”
Ah. The billionaire gazed up at her, the happiness that her words brought him immeasurable and indefinable. This woman was his greatest strength, able to make him do miracles at the hint of a smile. But he also knew that made her his greatest weakness, someone who could stop his heart from beating – if she ever thought of leaving him.
For almost his entire life, he had pretended to be normal, pretended to have the ability to feel happiness the way other people did. As long as his family was happy, he had been content. He hadn’t felt envious of other people’s joy because envy meant he knew what he was missing – and he hadn’t.
But then Fredericka came into his life, and everything had changed. A wild range of emotions suddenly sprung on him – anger, jealousy, pride, and joy – he had not known how precious the feeling of joy was until he had felt it himself.
As a man, as Sergei Grachyov, he had become happy because of Fredericka.
And when he had learned of her pregnancy, Sergei had discovered how happiness could also be profound, knowing that he was about to become a father.
Looking up, he said gently, “ Prosti. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“It’s okay if you make me worry. We – the baby and I – like to look after you, too.” And because the line felt too cheesy, enough to make her face red, she finished gruffly, “ Got it ?”
The billionaire laughed, but it was a hoarse sound, and Fredericka knew that there was still a part of him that wasn’t okay.
“You look gorgeous in the dress, pchelka .”
Ignoring his obvious attempt to change the subject, she said determinedly, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong. I’m just thinking...I don’t deserve to be this happy.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
“I’m insecure, I suppose?”
Fredericka snorted.
“You do not believe me?”
“Sorry, but I don’t.” The billionaire flashed her a grin, but when she looked into his eyes, she was stunned to realize that he actually had meant it. For whatever reason, he did think he didn’t deserve to be happy. “Stupid,” she blurted out.
He raised a brow.
“Of course you deserve to be happy.” By this time, she became aware that all the salesladies in the boutique had gathered around them, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from muttering, “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, but...I’m not letting you go. Got that ?”
The billionaire laughed again, and standing up, he placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips, murmuring, “Understood, lyubov maya. ”
And now it really was time , she thought. Hugging him, she hid her face against his neck because she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his expression as she whispered, “Good... lyubov maya .”
And when Sergei stiffened, he knew she understood what she was saying.
Lyubov maya translated to ‘my love,’ and she was his, just like he was hers.