Pregnant By Her Older Billionaire 3: A BWWM Older Man Younger Woman Romance (Matthew and Cara)

by Katie Dowe

  She was not sure how many times Kurt had been taking punches in the face before Francois finally pulled Vasili off him.

  “You learn how to treat a lady with respect or next time I will not be so nice,” Vasili said in a low voice but still loud enough for Malia to hear. She was breathing hard and heavy as Vasili made his way to where she was. “Are you alright?” he asked and she took a long second before she finally nodded. “Are you sure? Did he hurt you?”

  “No…I…” Malia looked at Kurt who was now struggling to get up.

  Francois walked over to where they were and raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry about that ass. He’s had it worse before,” he said as he looked at Malia who looked a little too concerned. “And thank you for handling that problem for me. That guy has been…the sole reason I regretted having a bar in my restaurant.”

  “You’re welcome,” Vasili said before turning his attention back to Malia. “And you?” he asked. She was rubbing her wrist gently where it was still stinging from where Kurt had held her tightly.

  “I’m fine…I just want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you home,” he said in a soft but commanding voice.

  “No you don’t have to…” Malia started but Vasili wouldn’t have it.

  “I will take you home,” he said again, his voice unwavering.

  Malia looked at Francois who gave her a small nod, almost as if he was giving her the go ahead that everything was alright. That she could trust Vasili.

  “Come on,” Vasili said holding out his hand. Malia looked at Francois and let out a sigh.

  “Go on. I’ll call you and have someone bring your car over.”

  Malia nodded.

  At that moment, she was a little confused. She was not sure whether what she was feeling at the time was being extremely turned on by Vasili’s macho actions or if what she was really feeling was simple interest in the man who had literally been her knight in shining armor. She put her hand in his and he began walking her towards the parking lot. She was not sure why but she had already guessed that the black chauffeured town car in the parking lot was his. When they got to it, he was the perfect gentleman. He opened the door for her and waited for her to climb in before he walked around and got in using the other door.

  “So, where to?” he asked as he looked at her.

  “Sandton. Raphael Street,” she said in a soft voice. “1414 is the address. It’s the big red building on the corner.”

  “Really? I live on the same street and I pass by that building almost daily. What are the odds that I have never bumped into you all this time?”

  “Guess that’s how life works,” Malia pointed out as she buckled herself in.

  “Thomas. The red brick building on my street please,” he said in a soft voice before the driver nodded at his boss’ reflection in the rearview mirror. She took a long deep breath and leaned back as he buckled himself in. He was looking at her and her heart was pounding. She did not know why but the simple look he gave her was her own undoing. Suddenly, she was feeling like she was sitting in a heated compartment. Like she could not think. Like she had lost all control of her body and her mind.

  “Do you always stare at people so intently?” she suddenly asked and he shook his head.

  “I am not staring at you,” he said in probably what was the calmest voice, it was almost scary. “I am simply looking at you.”

  “Well, the look you are giving me is a little…” she exhaled softly and felt goosebumps on her skin. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete drunk dick but honestly, you are staring.”

  Vasili smiled. And even in the dimly lit car, she could tell he had amazing cheek bones and dimples. He had amazing piercing green eyes. She had noticed them in the restaurant but as they drove past the street lights, they would shine ever so slightly sending chills down her spine.

  “Tell me, miss…” he started.

  “Malia. Malia Jones.”

  “Vasili Zakharov, nice to meet you,” he said smiling.

  “My friend Francois already told me that much. Apparently you are a regular there which is strange since I am also a regular there,” she pointed out.

  “Well, in all fairness, the reason we have not seen each other at the restaurant is simply owed to the fact that you usually dine at the chef’s private table.”

  Malia raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Stalker much?” she asked.

  “Well, two people in a foreign land…of course I had to see if I could get closer to you. And maybe just maybe, we could bond on those grounds.”

  “How sure are you that I am not a local? I mean, after all I am a black woman in South Africa,” she said matter of factly.

  “Well, black or not, your accent gave you away.”

  “Accent?” she asked and he nodded.

  “I would know an American accent from a million miles away.”

  “So, now you are an accent expert?”

  Malia was trying as hard as she could not to be condescending but she was afraid that her words were coming out that way.

  “I can detect any kind of accent. From American to British and even the very difficult Welsh,” Vasili said, a little boastful to say the least.

  “Welsh? Really?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

  “Actually, detecting someone from Wales is as easy as picking out an Irishman or a Brit from a crowd. It is all about the intonation of certain words and phrases.”

  “You don’t say,” she said in a soft voice.

  “Besides, Francois’ restaurant is well known to attract the best expatriates in South Africa. It is kind of a small place where all the foreigners kind of converge and exchange stories about home and stuff.”

  “Speaking of home and accents,” Malia started and he nodded. “Where is yours from and which country in Eastern Europe do you, Mr. Zakharov, call home?”

  He smiled as the car pulled up in front of her building.

  “Eastern European? Good ear,” he noted. “But tell you what, have dinner with me tomorrow evening and I can let you know everything you need to know.”

  For a minute, she wondered what doing the right thing in that situation would mean. Her heart was racing. She had only known him for a few minutes but she already felt a little drawn to him. There was something interestingly intriguing about him, something that made her want to know even more. She didn’t know why but she wanted to oblige.

  “Tomorrow night might be tricky,” she started as she unbuckled her belt. “How about Thursday?”

  “Thursday sounds just…great,” he replied.

  “Good.”

  “You know for a moment there I thought you were going to turn me down,” he said and she shrugged.

  “What can I say? I love being mysterious,” she said before she opened the door and stepped out of the car.

  Chapter 2

  When she woke up the next day, Malia was not sure whether what she was feeling was excitement or extreme buyer’s remorse. She was silent as she sat at her desk, her eyes this way and that as she read through her report. Suddenly, she didn’t understand why she could not do her job from one geographical position. On the one hand, she had a million reasons to go back home: she was homesick, she missed a true December winter and coming from an African American background, for her, family was everything. And for the last few months she had been extremely cut off from her family. She missed the impromptu family dinners and the noise every time her cousins and aunties decided to stop by for ‘a drink or two’. But out here, she only had a handful of people to call friends which was okay as far as she was concerned.

  Plus, she was a million miles from Mark. Not that distance was really an issue for a woman of her stature. A billionaire in her own right and even though she had been complaining, moving to South Africa had been ideal. She had partnered with a Jordanian oil goon to set up an international financial management firm and when they expanded the service to Africa, she could not f
ind anyone her partner trusted enough to leave the company to. The best way to make sure both their assets were being handled right was for one of them to be hands on. And since Omar was already handling their Middle Eastern business, she was the obvious choice. She had all those reservations about her new home but at the same time liked it there. As ridiculous as that sounded, it was the truth. She liked the challenges that came with being in a new country. The ups and downs of new culture plus the personal growth that came with it all. But that was all about her life in South Africa.

  What she was really having a problem with at that moment, that particular morning was deciding whether she should make a call to Vasili and cancel her dinner plans for the next day. Her heart was racing as she put on her shoes. She was just about to call for a cab when she heard her doorbell ring. She looked at her tablet that had a direct security link from the downstairs camera and smiled when she saw Francois. She buzzed him in and walked over to the kitchen to get the coffee started. She was planning on having breakfast at the office but now that Francois was here, she might as well have her coffee there. He was never in a hurry and besides, she had a pretty capable team at the office. They could definitely handle a few hours without the boss around.

  She had just walked back to the living room when she heard the door handled being jiggled.

  “Sorry…forgot to unlock the door,” she called as she rushed to the front door. “Hey,” she said when she opened it.

  “Hey, you…wow.” Francois’ eyes ran down from her head to her perfect curves before he looked into her eyes again. “This is normal office wear?”

  “Don’t start with me, Francois,” Malia said as he kissed her cheek.

  “I brought your car back and these fresh cupcakes too,” he said in a soft voice. A smile played on her lips.

  “Fresh cupcakes? From Starbucks or from your kitchen?”

  He pretended to clutch his chest painfully.

  “Do I look like the kind of person who would pass off a Starbucks cupcake as his own?” he asked. “Plus, I went the extra mile to make sure you got a box of each favorite.”

  Malia looked over her shoulder as she made her way to the kitchen.

  “You didn’t,” she said before turning to look at him.

  “Yes, I did. Red velvet, blueberry, strawberry and even that weird sweet potato pie cupcake that started out as an accident.”

  Malia squealed.

  “I could kiss you right now.”

  “You can. I promise not to let that come in between our friendship.”

  “I got the coffee started. It’s going to be a few minutes.”

  “Great, I’m kind of starved.”

  Malia frowned as she took two mugs from her overhead cupboard.

  “You do realize that a sugar and caffeine breakfast is the worst kind of way to start your day, right?” she asked. “I mean, being a chef and all, don’t you like whip up some weird egg flambé and shit?”

  “There is no such thing as egg flambé,” he said matter of factly.

  Malia leaned against the counter and shrugged.

  “You can’t blame me for assuming. Chefs come up with all kinds of shit and give them fancy names.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, you guys came up with popcorn soup for Christ’s sake.”

  “And it is delicious by the way.”

  Malia shook her head.

  “The only way popcorn should be taken is nicely salted and fried, preferably in butter. Not as some starter.”

  Francois shrugged.

  “We are creative people. Artists if you may. We see an attractiveness in food, a certain pull or halo where others don’t.”

  Malia raised an eyebrow.

  “So, this…” she waved her hand in the air. “You got all that from egg flambé?”

  “Yes and again I would like to point out that there is no such thing as egg…” he shrugged. “You know, I can’t even bring myself to say it. It is as ridiculous as it is insulting.”

  Malia shook her head.

  “Let me just pour your coffee and ignore everything you have said this morning. Except for the cupcakes.”

  She pushed a cup of coffee towards him and she held her own in her hands.

  “Got any whipped cream?” he asked and she smiled.

  “Do cows give milk?” she asked as she opened her fridge. “You know I really don’t understand how you eat so much sugar and still manage to look like that.”

  “Fifteen hours of gym every single week. Without fail,” he pointed out as he sprayed a generous amount of whipped cream on his coffee. She shook her head as she opened the box of cupcakes.

  “After having two of these I will be on a strict no sugar, no takeout diet for at least two weeks.” She took a bite of her cupcake and gently wiped off the frosting from the corners of her mouth. “Plus make sure I squeeze in an extra hour for yoga and Pilates. Each.”

  “Why don’t you just join team insanity and you never have to worry about what you put into your body?” Francois asked and she shook her head.

  “Seriously? You want me to do all that…you know I have watched YouTube videos on the insanity workout, right?” she asked.

  “So you have the perfect idea of what you would be getting yourself into,” he said but she shook her head.

  “I’m not about to put my body through that.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Remember that time I worked extra hard in the stationary biking session to impress that UK born Nigerian tycoon?”

  Francois laughed before he took a sip of his coffee.

  “You were in bed for a week.”

  “Yes, I had aches and pains in places I didn’t even know were possible.” He shook his head and laughed again. “Yeah, well, you can laugh all you want but I got that contract eventually.”

  “Good for you.” He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “And now I want to talk about the elephant in the room.”

  Malia shrugged and frowned.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and the Russian heart throb last night. Leaving my restaurant together in his town car…” Francois started.

  “Russian. Mystery solved,” she thought.

  “There is nothing to tell Francois,” she said in a soft voice as she began walking towards the living room. “He just brought me home and that’s that.”

  “Why do I feel like there is something more to the story you are not telling me right now?” he asked, following her into the living room.

  “What makes you say that?” She sat down and he forced out a laugh.

  “Because you are doing that thing you usually do when you are trying to avoid something.”

  “I’m not avoiding anything.”

  “Yes you are. And that is why you came in here from the kitchen.”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, let me put it like this. It is none of your business.”

  “Oh Mon Dieu. There is something juicy, huh?” he pressed. “So, what is the news?”

  “You are not going to give up on this. Are you?” she asked and he shook his head.

  “I am not one to give up easy. I think I was a detective in another life.”

  “Don’t I know it.” She took another bite of her cupcake. “Okay, so…Vasili asked me out to dinner.”

  “Didn’t waste any time,” he said smiling. “My kind of guy.”

  She scooped a generous amount of frosting using her finger and put it in her mouth.

  “He wanted us to go tonight but I have a conference call with Omar in the evening. No specific scheduled time and knowing Omar, he is probably going to call around seven or eight.”

  “So, you turned him down?” he asked and she shook her head.

  “No, I proposed tomorrow night.”

  “Someone has big balls.”

  “Yeah…I’m done moping around about Mark. I mean he is the kind of person who takes a ten thousand mile trip on a whim just because he needs a change of scenery.” She took another bite of her
cupcake. “If he really wanted this to work then maybe I wouldn’t be the only one flying out to see him.”

  “Do you think he has someone else or something?” he asked and she exhaled loudly before she nodded.

  “That is the only logical explanation. I mean he stopped picking up my calls or even answering my emails.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Like I said last night, I am done with that life.”

  Francois’ eyes ran down her body again. This time, it was not just to console a friend. This time his look was lustful. He was marveling at her curves the way he had so many times before, only he could not act on these feelings. Never, actually because she was like a sister to him.

  “As you well should be,” he said in a soft voice.

  She smiled and nodded before taking another bite of her cupcake.

  “By the way,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “I brought your car back.”

  “Thanks…saves me the cab ride.”

  “I am still trying to figure out how you adapted to left hand driving after so many years driving on the right.” He shook his head. “Most foreigners here just live on cabs and the like.”

  “Well, I am definitely not everyone,” Malia said smiling.

  “Wait, are you one of those freak shows who actually utilize the whole brain instead of just the fraction?” he asked and she frowned.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Let me put it like this. What’s your IQ?”

  “158. Why?”

  “Really? 158? And you say it as if it is no big deal or anything.”

  She shrugged.

  “Because it isn’t.”

  “Well, it should be.” Francois took another sip of his coffee. “Albert Einstein, the all-time genius of geniuses had an IQ of 160. Which puts you just two digits from where he was.”