Big Bad Fake Groom: A Billionaire's Virgin Romance

by Tia Siren

  ''Like I said. You think you are better than anyone else. Everyone's telling you it can't be done successfully, but oh no, madam won't listen. Well, I tell you what, when I drop you off at your apartment, you can darn well go to hell. I don't want to see you anymore either. And I might add, my experience with you has been nothing short of unpleasant. You're self-centered, conceited, arrogant, and a whole lot more.''

  Nicki put the key in the door to the apartment and opened it. She grunted as she put her bag down in the hallway. When she closed the door, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. Home. Finally home.

  The food in the plane had been exceptionally salty, and she needed water. She turned on the kitchen light and smiled. There was a large, 'Welcome Home,' banner tied along the curtain rail and a bottle of sparkling white wine on the table. Sarah and Lela, her housemates, had intended to drink it with her. Not surprisingly they had gone to bed. It was three am.

  *****

  Nicki woke to someone knocking on her bedroom door. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them again as the sharp winter sunlight tore into them. Why do I never shut the curtains properly, she asked herself.

  ''I'm awake. You can come in.''

  It was Lela. Lela had started college at the same time as Nicki. They'd found they had lots in common, not least because they were both black and both are starting out in journalism. After six months they'd decided to leave the halls of residence and get an apartment together.

  ''Hi, welcome home,'' she said as she tripped over the bag Nicki had left unopened on the floor. She fell onto the bed and gave Nicki a kiss and a hug. ''So how was it? We waited up for you, but sleep got the better of us.''

  ''It was a fantastic experience. You know Russia is such a paradox. The people are so polite and friendly, yet if you listen to the rhetoric coming from the politicians that represent them, you wouldn't think so.''

  Lela looked around the room. Nicki had the largest bedroom in the three-bedroom apartment, and it was stuffed full of elephants. Elephants in all colors and sizes. She even had a pink elephant on the pillow next to her. ''So how many elephants did you bring back with you?''

  ''The bag you tripped over is full of them. But I have got something for you.'' Nicki got out of bed and opened the bag. She'd filled it so full that a couple of elephants jumped out when she undid the zipper. She rummaged around and found a small box wrapped in pink paper with a thin ribbon tied around it.

  ''Thanks,'' Lela said as Nicki handed it to her. As Nicki jumped back into bed, Lela noticed how slim she'd become. She'd always thought Nicki to be the best looking woman on their course. In fact that was an understatement, she was the best looking woman she had seen at NYU. She lay next to Nicki and began to open her present. ''We all missed you terribly,'' she said as her fingers fiddled with the knot on the ribbon. ''The house hasn't been the same without out. We missed your story telling.'' She paused and laughed, ''but we didn't miss your garlic lasagna.'' Nicki gave her a playful thump. ''Oh wow, Nicki, it's too much,'' she said as she held a gold fountain pen up.

  ''You're going to be a journalist, so you'll need a good pen.'' Typical Nicki, generous and thoughtful.

  ''So what's the plan now, once you've unpacked all your elephants,'' Lela asked.

  ''Will you help me? I have so much to tell you about my experiences, and of course, I want to know what you've been up to. How many men have you brought back here while I've been away?'' she asked playfully.

  ''Only a handful,'' Lela lied, unable to count the actual number.

  After an hour, Lela couldn't find anymore room for the last few two elephants. ''Where do you want me to put these? There's no room.''

  ''Leave them on the bed, I'll find somewhere.''

  ''Perhaps you could sell some of your Mills and Boon books. You don't need to keep all those trashy romance books, do you?''

  ''I love them, I don't want to part with them. I split up with Nathan last night.''

  Nicki said it suddenly with no warning of any kind, and it shocked Lela. ''Why?'' she asked in a Sherlock Holmes kind of way.

  ''Because we aren't compatible. He's too different. He likes to be messy and casual, and I like to be neat and tidy and plan things. I felt sick when I got into his car yesterday. He hasn't cleaned it out for years.''

  ''But surely a messy car can't be the reason. I thought you guys were the real deal,'' Lela said as she picked up a book with a half-naked hero on it.

  ''No. It's more than that. I realized in Moscow that we aren't right together. I don't love him. I want to feel heat in my lower half when I think of my boyfriend.'' Lela nodded in agreement. She'd been out with so many men, and not one of them had set her alight. ''All I think of when I think of Nathan is chaos,'' Nicki added.

  ''How did he take it?''

  ''Badly. He called me some nasty things and dumped me at the door. I guess I deserved it. I said it so suddenly, it must have been a shock for him.''

  ''You're so intelligent and beautiful you'll find someone at the drop of a hat.'' Lela picked up another book, this time, the hero was holding a blonde woman who was looking at him as if he'd saved her from certain death. ''Look at you. You're tall and thin. Your waist is invisible and up top, you've got a really nice pair. Your ass is the envy of all the girls in the class, and your eyes are stunning. Don't worry you'll have men flocking to you once they know you're single again.'' Suddenly Lela's eyes lit up. ''Or have you already got some dark Russian prince?''

  ''No. I haven't and can you believe it? I was a very good girl in Russia. Not once did I entertain a man in my chamber.''

  ''You're chamber? You're definitely reading too many of those ridiculous historical romances. So what are you going to do now? Have you applied to any newspapers yet?''

  Oh no not you as well. Why didn't people understand? She wanted to be a freelancer. ''No, don't you remember, I want to go freelance.''

  ''But.....''

  ''No buts. I had enough that from Nathan on the way home. He doesn't think I'll be able to make a go of it. He thinks editors won't buy my stories.'' Nicki pulled the trunk on her pink elephant and twisted it in frustration. ''I'm going to do it. It's very important to me. I want to work for myself, not some ego inflated editor. And as for them not wanting to buy my stories, I'm going to tackle such daring subjects that they'll be forced to buy from me.''

  Lela cocked her head to one side. She had a habit of doing so when she didn't believe what she was being told. ''Okay. If it's so important to you, I really hope it works. But where are you going to start. I mean you need a story, you'll graduate soon, and your students loans will stop.''

  ''Maxim Sokolov.''

  ''What? He's a murderer. He killed the judge presiding over his trial. What was his name? '' Lela asked.

  ''Hudson. But he was acquitted. In the eyes of the law, he's not guilty. Simple. But after he came to Brighton Beach, New York, back in the nineties, he set up a vast empire of extortion, drugs and trafficking. I'm going to write about it.''

  ''You'll get yourself killed,' Lela said without hesitation. ''Do you know how many journalists have been killed by Russians? They are masters at it. As soon as you go sniffing around he will put an end to you. Don't do it.''

  *****

  Nicki pulled her collar up higher. She was glad she'd worn a scarf. The wind was blowing off the ocean and whistling between the restaurant buildings on the sea front. Only the gulls were enjoying themselves as they surfed the gusts high in the sky.

  The Crab and Lobster seemed like a nice place to eat. On the sea front, it looked like a giant beach hut. The wooden boards in the facade painted yellow and the small cross bead windows, white. The door was maroon and contained a ship’s porthole. There was a balcony running the length of the building where clients could eat in summer, and its roof was adorned with lobster pots and pieces of fishing net.

  Nicki climbed two steps to the front door and looked through the porthole. Inside, it was as cozy looking as outside. There were ab
out twenty round tables, all with red and white checkered table clothes, and a long bar down the left-hand side with wooden stools in front. The ceiling was covered in sailing paraphernalia. Oars, lobster pots, fishing net, anchors, even a brass ship’s bell that hung down from the ceiling into the middle of the room.

  She went inside. She noticed a couple sitting at a table in the far corner. They looked like they were making up after a fight. The woman had a blotched face, and the man a hurt look on his face and they were holding hands across the table. There were only two more people in the restaurant. The waitress was only about eighteen and pretty. Why such a pretty young woman should wear her hair in dreadlocks was beyond Nicki. The other person was a handsome blonde man of about twenty-five. He was tall, and his T-shirt clung to a physique he obviously spent a lot of time honing. Unusually for the time of year, he was wearing jeans shorts that showed off his long tanned legs. Nicki wondered what it would be like to stroke over the soft looking blonde hairs that covered them.

  ''Coffee please,'' she said, sitting on one of the bars stools. The waitress nodded. Nicki reached down to her bag and took out a notepad.

  ''You're a reporter then?'' the waitress inquired.

  ''Do I look like a reporter?'' she replied. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white blouse covered by a gray cardigan. Hardly a giveaway.

  ''The notepad,'' she said. ''Plus we get hundreds of journalists in here.'' She put a white cup and saucer down in front of Nicki.

  ''Why so many?''

  ''They're all after a mafia story.'' She picked up a tea towel and started to polish wine glasses.

  ''Doesn't the mafia own most of Brighton Beach? Sokolov owns this restaurant.''

  ''I have no idea. I just come and do my job and go home again. Andrey's my boss, and I'm sure he's not mafia.'' She pointed at the blonde man. When he heard his name, he looked up from his newspaper.

  ''Talking about me again Mel?'' he joked. He got up and wandered over to Nicki. ''I'm Andrey. It's a bit boring in here at this time of the day. Things don't usually get going until after seven pm.''

  ''That's okay, I only dropped in for a coffee. It's a lovely restaurant.'' He could have been a Californian surfer, she thought. His fresh face was tanned, and his blonde hair cradled his face in long waves.

  ''Yes, I love it. It's become part of me. There's always an opportunity to meet new people, like yourself.'' He leaned on the bar and put his foot on the brass foot rail. ''So are you?'' he asked.

  ''Am I what?'' she replied looking into his blue eyes.

  ''What Mel said. On the lookout for a mafia story?''

  ''Okay, I am a journalist. A freelancer. That's someone who works.....''

  ''I know what a freelancer is,'' he interrupted. ''If you're looking for a mafia story, you're fifteen years too late. All the shootings have stopped, and now it's a respectable area.'' He began to laugh, ''in fact the only bad thing that can happen to you around here, is a seagull messing on your head.''

  ''I don't know, there are secrets everywhere if you look for them. You for example. You sound Russian, so you have a story to tell. Why did you come here? Where are you from? How many girlfriends have you had? I bet a lot of female readers would enjoy reading about you.'' She put her hand on his arm as if she would be one of them.

  ''I'm afraid it would be a disappointing story. Tell you what, you tell me how many boyfriends you've had, and I'll tell you how many girlfriends I've had.'' He looked pleased with himself.

  ''One,'' she said without hesitation.

  ''I don't' believe you. A hot woman like you has only had one boyfriend. Get out of here.''

  ''What do you take me for?'' she jested. ''Are you suggesting that I may be loose?''

  ''Of course not. Sixteen.''

  ''You've had sixteen girlfriends?'' she exclaimed. ''I don't believe you. You're exaggerating, trying to be macho.''

  ''Sixteen not including the one night stands,'' he bragged. ''Not too bad for a simple boy from St Petersberg is it?''

  ''I guess not, but I still don't believe you. So why did you come here from that beautiful city?''

  ''Have you been there?''

  ''Last year. I studied for a year in Moscow and went to St Petersberg by train to have a look. It really is a very special place.''

  ''I came here to better myself,'' he said proudly. ''I had a bad start in life. My dad was killed in the Chechen war and my mother never got over it. I found her one day. Asleep in the kitchen, except she wasn't asleep. She'd taken an overdose.'' His eyes stared into the distance for a few seconds before focusing on her again.

  Nicki was shocked. She'd had a relatively easy time of it in comparison. Her parents were both still alive and reasonably well off. ''Jesus that's horrible. Poor you,'' she put her hand on his. ''Does it pain you to talk about it?''

  ''No. Not nowadays anyway. It was nine years ago and time heals.''

  ''So have you got any relatives?''

  ''No, I'm all alone in the world,'' he said as if he liked it that way.

  ''Well, if you've had so many girlfriends, you probably haven't had time for relatives.''

  ''I guess not.'' He liked her. She was beautiful and had the same sense of humor. He liked the oval shape of her eyes and the way her hands moved when she talked.

  ''Andrey, it's almost five and where I'm from it's okay to have a drink after five. Would you join me?'' She was beginning to enjoy herself and didn't want their conversation to end. In addition, she was hopeful he could point her in the direction of Maxim Sokolov. She had it on good authority that this was one of Sokolov's restaurants.

  ''Okay, but you're my guest. Mel, a couple of glasses please.'' The waitress put two small glasses in front of them and handed him a bottle of vodka. ''In Russia we drink vodka, do you like it?''

  Nicki hardly ever drunk anything alcoholic and she wasn't at all sure she could stomach a drink as strong as vodka. ''Yes, of course, I love it.''

  The way he concentrated as he poured the drinks fascinated her. He reminded her of a young boy she used to sit next to in kindergarten. When he drew a picture, he always held his tongue between his lips. Andrey was doing just that.

  ''Nazdrovje,'' he said. ''We drink it in one go.''

  ''Nazdrovje.'' Nicki opened her mouth and downed it in one. ''Jesus, that stings,'' she hissed as her eyes began to water.

  He laughed. ''You're not so cool after all are you.'' He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. ''You'll live,'' he said as she coughed uncontrollably.

  ''Let me buy you dinner,'' she said once she'd recovered. ''I'm enjoying out chat.'' What she really mean, was that she was enjoying being with him. His easy manner and good looks had aroused her, and she didn't want it to end. After a glass if vodka she was less focused on getting information about Sokolov and more interested in Andrey and his gorgeous body.

  He'd talked her into trying one more vodka, but this time, she'd taken her time to drink it. He'd downed it one and poured himself another which he took with them to a table next to the window. Mel came over and lit the candle that was standing in the middle of the table in a brass candlestick.

  ''How romantic,'' Nicki said. The vodka had warmed her, and any inhibitions she may have had were gone.

  ''I think today was my lucky day?'' he said.

  ''What do you mean?''

  ''You. You are beautiful. Very beautiful.''

  Nicki smiled and put her hand onto his. ''And you've made quite an impression on me.''

  They both ate steak with fresh salad. Afterwards, he asked Nicki if she wanted anything else. What she wanted she dare not ask for. But he did.

  ''Come up to my apartment with me. I live above the restaurant.''

  ''Don't you have to work?'' she asked buying herself some time to think if this was a good idea.

  ''It’s eight, and it's quiet. Mel and the chef can handle it. If it isn't busy by now, it won't be later.''

  ''Okay then let's go.'' Strange, she thought. I have nev
er done this in my life. Never have I gone to a man's apartment on the first date. Maybe that's why you've only had one boyfriend and he's had sixteen girlfriends. .

  His apartment was wonderful. It was under the gable and looked out to the ocean. The end wall was made of glass and had a door in it, which led onto a balcony. He'd placed the sofa so he could look out over the ocean. At the back was a small kitchen and in the middle of the room was a double bed. Nicki noticed how clean it was. That was a good sign she thought, remembering Nathan and his disgusting car.

  She stood and looked out over the veranda to the ocean. It was almost dark, and the seafront lights were glistening on the water. A gull came and sat on the veranda rail before impatiently flying off again. When Andrey had made them each a mug of tea, he stood next to her.

  ''Beautiful isn't it?''

  ''Yes, very.''

  He put the mugs down on the floor and put his arm around her. She turned her head to him, and he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss of exploration. When she opened her mouth to him, he put his tongue into her. They kissed for several minutes, neither of them in a hurry to the next stage. When he eventually made a move, she helped him. She stood back from him, took off her cardigan and began to open her blouse. He quickly took off his T-shirt and when he did, it made her stop. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. All she could see was brown skin on top of perfectly formed muscles. She had never seen a man with a ribbed stomach. It made her hornier still.

  Soon they stood naked in front of each other. His penis prodded into her as they kissed, and he felt her nipples hard against his chest. He ran his hand down her back and cupped her buttocks. ''You've got a perfect ass,'' he whispered. She kissed his neck and put her hand onto his shaft. Andrey sighed and let his head fall back. Soon, however, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He put her down gently and opened her legs.

  ''I want to taste you,'' he said as he put his mouth onto her womanhood. She gasped as he licked up over her clitoris and down again. ''Oh that's nice, do that,'' she instructed when she felt him press her clit between his lips. He continued as she'd asked, and soon she started to pant. The noise she was making turned him on more and he felt his rock hard shaft sticking painfully into the bed. When she shouted, ''now, now,'' he kept up the pressure, and she came.