My Russian Beast: Standalone Billionaire Romance

by Marian Tee

  But for now, he needed a reason to stay in her life.

  His lips curving in a devastating smile, he murmured indulgently, “I’ll say it as many times as you want, pchelka.”

  Her eyes widened at his promise, and she croaked out nervously, “But didn’t you say---”

  Pulling her face down, he whispered against her lips, “Let’s be friends.”

  Chapter Four

  Fredericka

  It was already half past seven in the evening when I stepped out of my office, and my phone started buzzing inside my blazer’s pocket right on time. Although most of the lights were already out, I still cast a furtive look around before answering the phone. “Hello?”

  “Good evening, pchelka. Are you done with work?”

  Sergei’s accented drawl reached my ears like a caress, and I bit back a sigh. “Yup. I’m on my way out.” We had been so-called friends for about a week now, and oh, how my life had changed since the Russian billionaire came into the picture.

  It was crazy, the way he had turned my life upside down in so short a time but now, I couldn’t even remember what my life had been like without him. He called me several times every day, and we would talk about anything and everything under the sun. He was also the first one to call me in the morning, and every night after work, we would meet at my place, talking and talking while we ordered in pizza, Chinese take out, or whatever else took our fancy for the night.

  With every day that would pass, I would think to myself, this was it. We’d finally run out of things to talk about, and boredom would set in. He was a gorgeous, sexy billionaire that every woman in the world wanted to date. I was a socially awkward, sexually inexperienced lawyer who also happened to be six darn years older than him.

  He had to get bored with me sooner or later, right?

  But it still hadn’t happened.

  Not for one moment did he ever make me feel I was boring him or he was being condescending with me, and every day I just found myself becoming greedier, wanting to spend more time with him and know more about him. Sergei Grachyov was an infinitely interesting man, and more and more he was proving himself to be the opposite of a typical 23-year-old male. We actually had more in common than I expected. We both hated the nightclub scene, but we also couldn’t last a day without watching the news. We could have passed off as siblings really – if only that night didn’t happen.

  The thought had my cheeks reddening, and I quickly pressed my hands to my face, an instinctive attempt to cover the proof of my embarrassment even though no one was around.

  “Fredericka? Are you still there?”

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Yes, sorry, I was, umm…” Just horny?

  My cheeks reddened even more.

  “Fredericka?”

  “I’m just, umm, really hungry. I haven’t had dinner yet.” And that was true, I thought defensively, even if it wasn’t exactly why I was currently so scatterbrained.

  “I thought you’d say that.” Sergei’s tone was faintly disapproving. “You shouldn’t prioritize work over your health, pchelka.”

  “I know that. It’s just sometimes I forget.” Instead of taking the elevator, I opted for the fire exit, the three flights of stairs serving as my daily form of exercise.

  The billionaire sighed. “You never learn, pchelka. I may have to teach you a little lesson to drive my point home.”

  “Ha.” I wanted to sound dismissive, but it came out a mumble instead since I had zero experience handling such innuendos. More proof, I thought glumly, that Sergei was right. I might be older than him, but he was definitely more sophisticated.

  Sighing in relief when I finally made it to the lobby, I said, “I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hesitated. “Are you really sure this is okay?”

  “Yes.” The billionaire’s tone was slightly exasperated. “So stop wasting my time. I hate waiting.”

  The line went dead before I could respond, and I gritted my teeth, knowing he had only done that to annoy me. For whatever reason, the billionaire got a kick out of provoking me, and he succeeded more often than not.

  At exactly fifteen minutes, I made it to Grachyov Enterprises’ basement parking, and as I switched the engine off, I spied a beautiful long-legged blonde in a business suit, followed by two men in black, walking towards me.

  They reached me as I stepped out of my trusty Toyota, and the woman smiled politely at me. “Ms. Spears? I’m Sergei Grachyov’s secretary, and we’ve been asked to escort you to his office.”

  “Oh.” I managed a smile even as I tried to conceal my disconcertment. I was only going to his office, so why did I need this many people with me?

  Sergei’s secretary led me to the basement’s elevator, her aloof demeanor making me feel even more uncomfortable. The elevator stopped at the fifteenth floor, and from here the other woman, together with the security escort, led me to what looked like a…stock room.

  I blinked as the woman bent to unlock the narrow metal door, and then I blinked again as I saw what was inside.

  “This leads straight to Mr. Grachyov’s office,” Sergei’s secretary told me frostily as she pressed a button.

  The elevator’s doors slid open, and I stepped inside gingerly. Turning around, I started to thank the woman, but the doors had already started to close, and the last thing I saw was the look of contempt in the woman’s blazing blue eyes.

  I think I just made an enemy, I thought with a gulp. Heated battles and shouting matches in the courtroom she was used to, but potential catfights with other women? It was completely unfamiliar territory and scared the hell out of me.

  The elevator opened to a tiny box of a room, with dark-colored walls and a door to my right. I tried the knob and it turned easily, the door opening to a vast carpeted room.

  Oh.

  At the center of the room was Sergei, seated behind a magnificent glass and steel desk. He had looked up the moment I opened the door, and he stood up as our gazes met.

  A devastatingly sexy smile curved on his lips, and I willed my heart not to react, even just this once. Friends, I reminded myself desperately. You’re just friends, Fredericka Spears, so why can’t your heart stop racing every time you see him?

  “Come in, pchelka.”

  Nodding, I stepped out of the room and turning around, I was surprised to see that the other side of the door had a sleek, metallic design, almost like the door for a high-end, state-in-the-art, commercial-sized freezer.

  “Wow.” I shook my head in amazement. “It’s like Narnia meets…50 Shades?”

  The billionaire smirked, drawling, “Quite the description, pchelka, coming from a proper and well-respected attorney such as yourself.”

  “Umm, oops?” But what I was really more concerned about was what I was doing here. I knew vice presidents of multinational companies like Grachyov Enterprises had to be huge, but the size of his office was insane. He made my own office look like a shoebox, and even the office of my boss would still look pathetic compared to this.

  “A whole apartment could fit in here,” I remarked weakly.

  The billionaire only shrugged. “It is sufficient for my needs.”

  “Really?” I looked at him doubtfully. “You need 2,000 square feet to work?”

  Sergei laughed. “I love your sense of humor, pchelka.” Taking hold of my hand, he pulled me to him, and even as I stiffened in shock, he bent down and placed a lingering kiss on my cheek, his lips landing alarmingly close to the corner of my mouth.

  Oh!

  Even as heat uncurled in my stomach, spreading to the rest of my limbs, I managed to push him away, mumbling incoherently in protest.

  He allowed me to put much needed distance between us but didn’t let go of my hand.

  When I finally had enough brain cells to string words together, I censured him shakily, “You should stop doing that. We’re friends, remember?”

  “I know.” The billionaire’s tone was lazy. “Which was why I restrained myself from kissing your sweet
, lush mouth.”

  Ah!

  He was so, so good at saying such sexy things, damn him. As I tried to keep my body from melting, the billionaire tightened his hold on my hand and drew me towards the living area in his office. It was an elegant and cozy setup, with a black leather couch, a rosewood coffee table, and a wingback chair on each side.

  The sight of Japanese bento boxes made me perk up, and my stomach growled. Loudly.

  I turned red, and Sergei grinned.

  “Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  “It’s my pleasure to feed you, pchelka, but I do wish you would take better care of yourself.” Leading me to the couch, he made me sit down and waving off my offer to help him, he unwrapped the bento box and handed it to me with a pair of chopsticks.

  “Itadakimasu,” he murmured as he took a seat next to me on the couch.

  “Ita-something,” I repeated dutifully even though I had no idea what I was saying.

  He grinned.

  The first twenty minutes were spent in contented silence, with both of us eating with gusto. I don’t think I’d ever admit this to a living person, but I really loved seeing how Sergei ate. Even with him as obviously starved as I was, he still managed to eat with such finesse. Honestly, it was like he spent years in a finishing school. Could that be possible?

  When we were done, both of us set up for work, since that was what tonight was about. When he learned that I was planning to pull an all-nighter at a coffee shop near my place, he had invited me to his workplace instead, tempting me with the promise of free unlimited coffee since he had his own espresso machine.

  As I pulled my laptop out from the bag, I watched him walk back to his desk and asked worriedly, “Are you really sure I’m not intruding?”

  Sergei only looked at me.

  “I’ll, err, get to work now.”

  Two hours later, and I felt completely at home in the billionaire’s office, with my legs stretched on the couch while I sipped on my second cup of cappuccino, which Sergei had personally prepared. After another half hour, I decided to take a break and setting my laptop aside, I looked up and saw that Sergei was still working. He had unknotted his necktie and loosened the first few buttons of his shirt while his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. He looked tired, but he also looked like he was enjoying every minute of his job, and I had to admit that for a workaholic like me---

  It made the billionaire look incredibly sexy.

  And that was bad, I thought.

  Trying to distract myself, I quickly reached for one of the magazines on the coffee table, which I suspected belonged to his sister Seri. He had told me a lot about his family, and it was actually one of my favorite topics. I loved the way he spoke of his father and siblings because of how it revealed an unexpected side of him.

  As I browsed the magazine, an article caught my eye, and a laugh escaped me when I started reading it.

  A few moments later, a shadow fell over me, and startled, I looked up to find the billionaire standing right in front of me.

  “What’s that you’re reading, pchelka?” He took his seat next to me on the couch again, but this time sitting so close I caught a strong whiff of his aftershave. The sides of our bodies pressed to each other, and only one word came to mind.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  The billionaire moved even closer, glancing at the magazine I had open on my lap. “The Ultimate Best Friends’ Bucket List,” he read.

  I grinned. “It’s divided into three categories, and some of it are just…umm…perfect for us.”

  He pointed to one of the items under the Easy category. “Painting each other’s toenails sounds fun.”

  “Uh.” Not really, I thought. That would mean having to touch each other, and that was more dangerous than fun. “I was thinking more along the lines of this one.” I pointed to an item under the Difficult category. “Dating the same person.”

  “No fucking way,” the billionaire said so swiftly that I couldn’t help laughing.

  “If we’re really friends, it should be okay,” I teased.

  But Sergei only looked at me, and I found myself laughing harder.

  It was almost three in the morning when he drove me home, and the billionaire insisted on walking me up to my apartment. But instead of leaving as soon as we made it to my front door, he followed me inside and walked to my couch.

  I blinked. “Sergei?”

  “You can tick this off our bucket list,” he murmured.

  “Tick what off?”

  “Crashing on your couch for the night without any warning,” he said blithely.

  When he started taking his shoes off, I realized he wasn’t joking at all, and I protested, “You don’t even fit on my couch!”

  “Then shall you take the couch and I’ll take your bed?” the billionaire countered without looking up.

  He was taking off his socks now, and I choked back a laugh. “Be serious.”

  After setting aside his shoes and socks, he glanced up at me, murmuring silkily, “I am serious.”

  Our gazes clashed as my throat went dry.

  We stared at each other.

  Kick him out, I urged myself.

  But instead I heard myself say, “We can share the bed---” I saw his eyes widen, and I added hurriedly, “But we’re only going to sleep.” Shit, shit, shit. What am I saying? I looked at the billionaire, whose eyes were gleaming wickedly, and knew he was just as aware of my inner turmoil.

  This was such a bad idea, but…

  Every time I looked at Sergei Grachyov, he made me want to do bad things.

  Chapter Five

  Sergei and Fredericka

  Sergei knocked on the door once. “I’m coming in.” He didn’t wait for an answer but took his time opening the door. The muffled shriek coming from the bathroom made his lips curve in amusement, and when he stepped inside he saw Fredericka frozen next to the sink, wide-eyed, a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

  “Mind if I brush my teeth next to you?”

  She sputtered incoherently in answer, which the billionaire took as an affirmative since it was what suited him. Moving forward, he stopped the moment the sides of their bodies brushed and was rewarded by a muffled whimper.

  Sexual inexperience had never been a turn-on for him, but with Fredericka, it had turned into an aphrodisiac. The way she reacted so quickly and powerfully to his every movement made his own body tighten in arousal, and he could only imagine how magnificently responsive she would be when he finally got to fuck her.

  Beside him, Fredericka had bent down to rinse her mouth and he gazed at her lazily, admiring the elegant length of her neck. She had already changed into pajamas – white cotton with pink polka dots. His type in the past could be summed up as beautiful and shallow, the kind that he would always be able to control. But ever since meeting Fredericka---

  Practical but feminine was his new type now, the kind that wore cotton pajamas with cute pink polka dots.

  “Excuse me.” Fredericka’s mumbled words drew his attention back to her, and his amusement grew when he saw how she studiously avoided his gaze.

  Taking a step back to let her pass, he waited until she had taken a step forward before moving again, deliberately bumping into her.

  She gasped, her gray eyes flying to him.

  “Why are you so nervous, pchelka?” he teased huskily.

  “I’m not,” Fredericka couldn’t help lying. In the years she had been living in her smaller-than-average apartment, she had never wished it could be bigger and more luxurious but at that moment, she did wish her apartment had more space.

  More space meant she wouldn’t be constantly forced to be in close proximity with Sergei Grachyov. More space meant she wouldn’t be constantly subjected to an up-close look of the billionaire’s impressively muscular body, which was built like one of those a-hoo-shouting Spartans in 300.

  And most importantly of all, more space meant she wouldn�
�t have to constantly feel like she was in heat, with the craziest urge to tear clothes off.

  His.

  Hers.

  It didn’t matter.

  Someone just had to be naked and then---

  Shit. Fredericka ducked her head again, heat blooming in her cheeks at the appallingly lewd direction of her thoughts. “I g-gotta go.”

  Watching Fredericka rush out of the bathroom like a criminal on the run, the billionaire thought, There’s nowhere for you to run, pchelka. She was the woman he wanted, and there was nothing – no one – he wanted that didn’t ever become his.

  Fredericka was in the middle of pulling the covers up when she heard Sergei walk back into the bedroom. A moment later and he was standing in front of her, and her eyes widened when he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded shrilly.

  “I never sleep with my clothes on.” As he spoke, the billionaire had already dispensed with his shirt, leaving him bare-chested.

  Her throat went dry, and her heart started hammering against her chest again.

  Abs.

  Too, too much abs.

  “You’re staring at me again,” Sergei drawled.

  Shit.

  She whipped her gaze away, muttering, “It’s because you’re so ugly.”

  But the billionaire only laughed, his ego immense enough to be insult-proof.

  “You’re doing this to torment me, aren’t you?” she accused him.

  “Not at all,” the billionaire dismissed as he placed his neatly folded shirt on the bedside table. “I’m just ticking another item off our bucket list.” Dark eyes gleaming, he looked at her, saying silkily, “See each other’s naked bodies and not be grossed out.”

  Oh!

  She remembered reading that line from the bucket list---

  And then she saw the billionaire reach for the buttons of his pants.

  Shit.

  Fredericka quickly turned around and switched the light off, the same time she heard the faint but distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down.

  Shit.