by Marian Tee
Throughout it, he had been alone, not talking or looking at another girl even though they both knew almost every female in the party would have died for the chance to spend even a few minutes in his company.
It was as if he wanted her to know that this was not about making one or the other jealous.
No, it was far simpler than that, and far more hurtful.
The truth was all in his savagely beautiful smile.
But even so, she couldn’t help thinking she had to try one last time.
One last try, Seri thought feverishly.
Just one last try.
She lifted her phone and before she could let herself think twice about what she intended to do, she had already finished texting her message—-
Can you come to my room? I need to talk to you about Fyodor and the others.
She pressed Send.
It was a lie, but she also knew there was nothing more effective in getting him to move.
And she was right.
Barely a minute had passed when Vassi came knocking on the door. “Leech?” His voice was harsh, and she knew she had made him mad.
Good, Seri thought recklessly. Anything was better than the pleasantly detached way he had treated her in the last hours of the party, like she was someone to be humored until he could find a way to dump her on another guy’s lap and forget about her.
She opened the door, and without meeting his eyes, she said, “Come in.”
“Seri—-”
She shook her head. “Inside, please.”
She turned away and as she walked towards her bed, she heard him expel his breath in seeming frustration, followed by the click of a door as he pushed it close.
His footsteps echoed the rampaging sound of her heartbeat, and she clenched her hands, now clammy with sweat.
She stopped when they stood between her study desk and bed.
“What is it?” His voice was cold, like he was trying to warn her from being emotional.
Seri swallowed back a hysterical laugh. Too late.
She whirled around and threw herself at him, using her strength to push him towards the bed.
He cursed under his breath as he fell on the mattress, but before he could say another word, she had already straddled him and covered his mouth with hers.
She kissed him with all she had, and after one tense, silent moment in which he only remained stiff and unresponsive—-
She felt it.
His hands driving up, digging into the tresses of her hair.
And then he was kissing her.
Hard.
Deep.
His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she moaned. His hands moved down her body, gripping the cheeks of her bottom, and then he was thrusting up, grinding his erection against her, and she couldn’t stop moaning, couldn’t stop rocking herself against his dick, couldn’t stop hoping—-
And then it was over.
Vassi had wrenched his mouth away from hers, and as Seri’s eyes flew open, she found herself staring down at his beautiful face.
She stared at him, and his eyes told her that he knew. He knew what the kiss meant, and he knew that she had succeeded in making it impossible for him to deny what her feelings were.
He knew.
And yet—-
It was that smile again.
That smile that was savage in its ability to hurt her and him—-
That smile that told her he would do everything to get rid of her, if he had to, if she ended up being a threat to his family—-
“Had enough practice?” His tone was polite, even concerned, and she could only stare at him, his words confusing her even as they made her bleed, just like his smile.
He gently but firmly pushed her off him. “I hope that helps improve your sex voice. I’ve heard from your manager that it’s your weakness.” He stood up and looked down at her. “Take it from me, though. I’m an expert and you don’t need any more practice than this. Your moans sounded great.”
She watched him leave, and still she couldn’t make herself say a word.
All she could think about was that...
He knew.
He knew...and he was ignoring it.
The pain was too much, and she tried, like she always did, to ignore it with work. Her limbs felt too heavy, and she practically had to crawl to get to her desk. Her fingers were abnormally clumsy as she moved them over the touchpad. She should start recording the emotional scene between Aya and Shinta while she was feeling like this, Seri told herself. It would be a shame, Seri thought feverishly, to let her heartbreak go to waste when she could use it for work.
Seri clicked Play.
The girl on the screen started to cry.
She started to cry with the female character, and that was when she realized she couldn’t stop.
Because all of a sudden, she remembered the way Vassi had looked at her, and she had realized something even more painful to swallow.
Vassi had always known.
From the very start, he had always known.
From the very start, he had made his choice.
And he had not chosen—-
Seri didn’t allow herself to finish the thought. It would kill her if she did, and she owed her family to be strong. Work, she thought dully, she had to work. If she worked hard enough, she would forget this pain one day. If she worked hard enough, she would learn to see him the way she was supposed to.
As she stared sightlessly at her browser, Seri belatedly noticed the red light blinking from her laptop. Had she forgotten to stop recording herself from yesterday’s exercise?
She clicked on the web camera’s icon and played back the last few minutes.
****
Someone knocked on the door, and Vassi breathed harshly, seriously contemplating throwing his glass against the door so whoever it was would get the fucking point and leave—-
Another knock, and then he heard the sound that he both loved and despised with all his heart.
“Vassi. It’s me.”
Seri.
He stared at the door, incredulous, frustrated, furious, but more than anything else, he was also desperately doing his best to resist the urge to fling the door open, haul her sexy little ass inside his room, and give her – give them – what they both fucking wanted.
What the fuck did she want now?
Was she a fucking glutton for punishment?
Hadn’t what he’d done on her goddamn party been enough to make her see that nothing could ever happen between them?
Seri knocked again. “I won’t leave until you talk to me. And you have to do so now, because Papa could wake up anytime and—-”
He got her fucking point, and he stalked to the door. Opening it, he yanked her inside. Although he made sure he didn’t hurt her at all, he also knew he was handling her more roughly than usual, causing hurt to flicker in her eyes.
Good, he thought grimly. She had to understand that only pain was waiting for her at the end of this path.
“What is it?” he snapped.
Seri offered him her iPhone.
He didn’t take it. “What’s that for?”
Her hand noticeably trembling, she raised her phone at eye level with him and clicked on the Play button.
Vassi whitened when he realized what he was hearing and seeing.
What the fuck?
And that was when he heard her say, “If you don’t want me to show this to Papa, you’ll a-agree to be my boyfriend in secret, and y-you’ll do everything I want you to do.”
Then she was spinning around, almost running out of his room as if she didn’t want to give him a chance to bully her into changing her mind.
Vassi closed his eyes.
I give up.
I fucking give up.
Part Two
Prologue
Vassi Grachyov idly fixed his cuffs behind the stage curtains while waiting for the host to call his name. The family business had won yet another award for industry leade
rship, but with both Sergei and Fyodor still tied up with negotiations in Russia, it was up to him and—-
The backstage door opened, and he said without looking up, “You’re late.”
Misha was only able to grunt, surrounded as he was with the event’s production assistants.
Normally, the women working on Misha would have giggled and tried stealing selfies with the famously gorgeous and infamously absent-minded genius. But with only minutes to spare, they were in a tremendous panic, with one hurriedly taking away his lab coat, another one handing him a business jacket, while a third one did her best to tiptoe and give his tousled hair a quick brush.
Misha accepted the jacket but shook his head at the last girl’s attempt to tame his dark, longish locks. “It’s okay,” he said absently, his mind still focused on the article he was drafting for Science Translational Magazine.
Vassi said seriously, “Yes, leave him be, please. If you have to know, that’s his woke-up-like-this look.” He paused then continued solemnly, “He’s one of those rare specimens who, no matter the time of the day, would always look...”
The women’s eyes widened.
Perfect, they thought in unison.
And all of them let out a little squeal, the shrill sound breaking Misha’s concentration.
Misha blinked, suddenly realizing that the women around him had a rather hungry look in their eyes. Behind them, he caught sight of his younger brother smirking and knew right away that whatever had just happened, it was Vassi’s doing.
Mentally cursing Vassi, he carefully removed himself from the circle of female predators and was relieved when the host called out their names a moment after. As he and Vassi walked on stage, he said under his breath, “Otva ‘li.” Fuck off.
He glanced over his shoulder, saw the women on their phones, tweeting or stealing photos of him, and suppressed an irritable sigh. This was why he hated public events, Misha thought. And if not for Fyodor’s golden rule of having the family present a unified front in every occasion, he would have gladly skipped every chance to stand in the limelight.
But then if one of them did, tongues could start to wag, and as Fyodor had warned them, such gossip could eventually harm the most precious member of their family.
With the thought uppermost in his mind, Misha forced himself to smile and speak a few words even as boredom tempted him to kill himself. Beside him, Vassi appeared to have no problems at all dealing with all the attention. As soon as the award ceremony ended, they were immediately inundated with requests, all of which Vassi handled with ease while Misha dealt with it as he always did, which was to ignore what could be ignored and let his bodyguards take care of the rest.
Although the audience for the prestigious award ceremony mostly consisted of Fortune 500 executives, the appearance of the Grachyov brothers had reduced everyone into obsessed fans. Men in expensive tuxes were eager to shake hands with them, knowing that such an experience gave them bragging rights over their friends. The women, on the other hand, acted more like well-dressed fangirls than the powerful executives they were, with the way they fought against each other for the chance to get close to the two brothers, hoping to either steal a kiss or – if their guardian angels were smiling at them – then perhaps even the most fleeting touch of a Grachyov cock?
It was unlikely, considering the bulk of security surrounding the Grachyov brothers, but not impossible, and even this tiny chance was enough to send the females into a frenzy.
It was both a hilarious and incredible sight, and the paparazzi present smirked among themselves even as they furiously took photos and live-tweeted the event. The Grachyov effect, the reporters thought in wry amusement. There was just nothing like it since the Kennedys.
Vassi shook hands with an ambassador and his wife. “Thank you for the invitation. We would love to join you for luncheon, but I’m afraid both my brother and I already have other commitments scheduled after this.”
He moved forward and was blocked by a society matron cooing for his attention. A smile still pinned to his lips, he thanked the woman for the support while slightly turning his body sideways. The movement was barely imperceptible, but it was sufficient for dodging the woman’s straying hand as she expressed her admiration for him while trying to cop a feel.
Another woman attempted to do the same thing to Misha while waiting for him to finish autographing her luncheon card, but instead of stepping back, he only nodded to security. By the time he finished scrawling his signature, the woman’s face was beet red, with Misha’s guards having quietly but sternly warned her of the legal consequences for attempted sexual harassment.
Unfortunately, the minor fracas didn’t deter the other guests from clamoring for their attention, and Misha’s patience started to wear thin. He glanced at his younger brother.
“A photo would be fine, yes.” Vassi smiled as he posed next to an elderly gentleman.
“It’s our privilege to be a part of this.” Vassi bowed respectfully to the event’s special guests from Japan.
“Of course, a handshake is the least we can do.”
There was not a single sign of discomfort on Vassi’s too-pretty face, even though Misha was certain his brother found the way people kept fawning over them both tedious and bizarre.
It was, Misha thought pensively, pretty amazing, when one considered Vassi’s attitude as a child. Even though Vassi had been the youngest, he had still been the first to swear among his brothers, the first to be sent to detention for troublemaking in school, the first one to take a girl to bed. In fact, Vassi had been the rowdiest little kid, violent and aggressive—-
But here was his little brother now, the very epitome of grace and charm, Vassi’s smile unfaltering as he skillfully evaded answering questions about his rumored hiatus from acting.
The change was uncanny, Misha thought reflectively, and it all started when Seri had come into their lives.
It took over an hour for the two brothers to finally get past the crowd and make it to the hotel’s private lobby for VIP guests.
“Where are you heading after this?” Misha asked.
Vassi raised a brow. “Since when did you care about my schedule?”
“You wound me, brat,” Misha murmured, deliberately using the Russian term for ‘brother’ to show how hurt he was. When his younger brother only gazed at him, Misha turned his palms face open in a gesture of appeal. “It’s not wrong for a brother to look after a younger sibling—-”
“It is,” Vassi countered dryly, “if that brother also happens to be the type to forget he had a girlfriend waiting for him for seven hours while doing scientific shit.”
“That was a long time ago,” Misha dismissed, “and she doesn’t even hold a grudge.” How could she, he thought with a rare flash of cynicism, when his apology to her – which also had served as his parting gift – had been a pearl bracelet worth several hundred thousand euros?
He glanced at his Vassi. “So? Where are you going?”
Vassi expelled his breath in exasperation. “Stop acting like a nanny. It’s getting damn creepy.”
Misha studied his brother thoughtfully. Interesting how Vassi was suddenly unwilling to answer such a simple question. He asked slowly, “Are the rumors true then? You are temporarily leaving Hollywood?”
Vassi’s smile was mocking. “Et tu, Brutus?” But he was swearing inside his mind as he spoke. Dammit. He should have known better not to underestimate Misha. He had always been too fucking smart, always able not just to read between the lines but come up with both the story and its prequel, too.
Misha was nodding understandingly. “I see.”
Vassi’s lips tightened. He was tempted to ask what this brother of his did see, but he managed not to.
“I remember,” Misha said casually, “Papa virtually threatening to kick you out of the house when you told us you wanted to give acting a try, but you didn’t back down then.” Misha frowned. “And yet now, you are taking this type of risk. Is this not tanta
mount to career suicide?”
Vassi’s broad shoulders moved in a negligent shrug, and his voice was unconcerned as he replied, “Perhaps for others.”
Misha laughed. “Spoken like a Grachyov.” Outside the lobby, their limousines came up the driveway, and as he and Vassi began walking towards the doors, Misha asked, “What will you do while on hiatus?”
Knowing that the truth was impossible to hide, Vassi said reluctantly, “Go back to school, I suppose.”
Misha blinked. Ah. Now that, he definitely did not see coming. He murmured wryly, “It’s rare for someone to make me feel stupid, but...I have to hand it to you, brat. In the past, I couldn’t understand why you opted to take a gap year.” He stopped speaking as they went through the hotel’s revolving doors and upon emerging outside, he continued, “That kind of thing would have been necessary for others, but for someone who had already been working and seen the world several times?” Misha shook his head. “You are just not the type to need extra time for...what is the term you teenagers like to use these days? Self-discovery?”
Vassi asked sarcastically, “You do remember you’re only three years older than I am, don’t you?”
Misha ignored his brother’s words, saying, “But I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“The gap year,” Misha said easily. “Because of it, you now have a valid reason to start university with our little dove, da?” When his younger brother’s face became stoic, he knew he had hit the nail on the head, and Misha’s eyes gleamed with rare shrewdness. Unlike Vassi and Sergei, he had no patience for playing games. He said what he wanted, took what he wanted.
But because this involved two important persons in his life-—
“I’m glad you’ll be around to look after Seri,” Misha said smoothly.
Vassi grunted. “I’m not the one with a sister complex.”
“I know,” Misha answered right away, “and that is as it should be. She is only a sister to us, after all.”
Vassi’s eyes became hooded. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”