by Marian Tee
When I Moan
Russian Stepbrother Romance
Marian Tee
Contents
Blurb
About the Book
Also by Marian Tee
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Also by Marian Tee
About the Author
Blurb
When I smile, I think about how lucky I am, to have the three hottest guys in town doting on me.
When I scowl, I think about how unlucky I am, to have three crazy protective Russians as stepbrothers.
When I cry, I tell myself I’ll never do anything to jeopardize what we have.
But oh, when I moan…I tell myself it’s just for work.
When I moan, no one should know I can only feel this beautiful, terrible need to touch and be touched by secretly fantasizing about him---
Vassi.
The gorgeous Russian celebrity every girl wants to own---
And the one man I’m forbidden to even want…because he’s the stepbrother I’ve fallen in love with.
So I just moan, knowing that one day he’d fall for another girl and then I’ll have to close my eyes, hoping that my moans can mask my tears.
About the Book
She closed her eyes again, and her mind had no problems picking up from where it had left off, so easily it was as if her fantasies had been with her from the very start.
In her mind, she saw Vassi stepping out of his jeans, and now he was only in his boxers, sleek black silk that outlined the bulge---
“Aaaaaah.” The sound was blissfully perfect, but it wasn’t loud enough to hide the click of someone opening her bedroom door.
“Seri?” It was Vassi. “I want to talk.”
She stood there, stunned into immobility while water continued to cascade down her body. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, Seri realized that she had also forgotten to lock her bathroom door.
His footsteps came closer. “Seri? Are you still mad?”
The door creaked open, and Seri---
Pretended not to realize he was there.
Also by Marian Tee
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Copyright 2016 by Streak Digital Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Four years ago
Misha Grachyov absently walked down the hallway, his gaze trained on the medical journal he was reading. Tall, dark-haired, and silver-eyed, he made head turns whenever he went, and with his imposing height and hard-hewn body, he looked more like a Cossack warrior than anything else.
Or at least Cossack warriors who also happened to wear glasses and a lab coat over his school uniform.
“Hey, Misha.”
“Hi, Misha.”
“Good morning, Misha.”
Both male and female students he walked past were eager to greet the town’s hottest nerd, half out of sheer admiration and infatuation, the other half in hopes of exploiting a friendship with any of the Grachyov brothers. The Grachyovs were the wealthiest family in this side of California, and everyone knew that each son was slated to inherit at least a billion dollars from their Russian magnate father.
Misha walked past all of them without a glance.
Everyone silently sighed in disappointment, all of them having secretly hoped they’d be the one to break Misha’s legendary concentration. A moment later, the sighs turned into scowls and glares when they saw their target slow down in front of Room 1C.
They had hoped the rumors about the Grachyov brothers weren’t true, but now that Seri Devereaux was in high school with them, there was no escaping reality.
Misha Grachyov had a sister complex.
* * *
Seri rushed out of her classroom the moment she saw who was waiting outside. What was he doing here?
A small group of girls had formed a circle around Misha by the time she reached him. They were all fawning over her brother, flirting with their gazes and cooing words, but Misha appeared oblivious to them all.
She tapped Misha on the shoulder. “Hey, Misha.”
He looked up right away, as if her voice was the only sound his ears recognized, and Seri could feel the other girls glaring harder at her back.
“Seri.” He smiled down at her. And then he blinked, as if only seeing the girls around them for the first time. He smiled at them, too, and the girls sighed. Out loud.
Seri mentally shook her head. Misha was so clueless. If he weren’t her stepbrother, she would have thought he was faking it. But because she had known him since she was five and had lived with him and the other boys since she was eleven, Seri knew it was real.
Misha was the hottest and most clueless nerd there was.
Ever.
“So, umm, what are you doing here?” Aside from ruining her plans of becoming anonymous, she added silently. She had hoped high school would be different, and that maybe – just maybe – no one would know she was the Grachyov’s little sister. She had even left home ahead of her brothers, opting to walk to school rather than sharing a ride with them.
But all her efforts were useless now of course.
She wanted to get mad at Misha, but how could she, the way he was ruffling her hair with a fond smile on his face?
“Do I need a reason to see my little dove?” Misha teased.
Seri mentally cringed, knowing his pet name would just make the girls more jealous of her. She opened her mouth to tell him that he wasn’t ever to call her ‘little dove’ in public, if he still wanted her to live, but then she saw the affection in Misha’s silvery gaze---
Seri said weakly, “”I’m happy to see you, too.” She could feel the number of glares that was being sent her way doubling as she spoke.
Yup, she thought morosely. I’m definitely going to get bullied again.
He raised his hand, lifting something up at eye level. “I also came here to give you this.”
Guilt singed her cheeks when she saw what he was holding. “Sorry,” Seri mumbled as she took her lunchbox from Misha. She knew how much work Fyodor put in every day, personally preparing her lunch, and this despite the fact that her stepfather had a full-time chef in his employ. It was a probably a Russian thing, the way they took deathbed promises a little too seriously. As part of his vow of being both Seri’s Mama and Papa, Fyodor had committed to doing everything Marianna used to do for her daughter.
Like, everything, to the point of even taking online classes for the art of bento making.
“I’ll text Papa later, I promise,” Seri told Misha.
He patted her head. “Don’t forget your lunch next time, da?”
She nodded, hoping that would be the end of it.
But unfortunately, it wasn’t.
Misha actually leaned back against the doorframe, looking like he didn’t mind spending forever with her.
Which was great and all, Seri thought, if there didn’t happen to be scores of other girls in the same hallway, all wanting a piece of Misha…as much as they wanted to tear her into pieces.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Aren’t you worried you’ll be late for class?”
Misha only shrugged. “Not really.”
Right. She had forgotten about the teensy weensy fact that Misha could have graduated high school at thirteen. Only he didn’t ---
“I wish the school would reconsider letting me sit in with your class,” Misha grumbled.
Because of that.
Misha had a huge sister complex over her, to the point that he had been okay with twiddling his thumbs in high school just to spend more time with Seri.
“It’s unf
air that Sergei gets to teach your class while I get stuck with only seeing my cute little sister during breaks---”
She said uneasily, “Umm, Misha---”
“And Vassi’s the lucky bastard because---”
The school bell rang, cutting him off.
Thank you, Mother of Russia!
Trying not to show relieved she was, she said, “I gotta go, Misha. Class is about to start.”
Misha reluctantly pushed himself off the doorway. “Will you be meeting with your voice coach later?”
“Err, no. Why?”
“Great.” Misha’s grin had the girls behind Seri giggling.
“I can have lunch with you and Davey then.” The giggles stopped, and the intense scowling resumed, enough to burn a hole at Seri’s back.
He placed a kiss on the top of her forehead.
Derr mo. That meant ‘shit’ in Russian.
“See ya, little dove.”
Srat. This still meant shit.
Seri tried to creep back to her seat as inconspicuously as possible, but it was no use. As she got to her seat, another student deliberately shoved her from behind, snarling under her breath, “Die, you bitch.”
And so it begins, Seri thought with a silent sigh, just another day in her not-so-ordinary life as stepsister to the Grachyov brothers.
* * *
First period was Business Math, something unique to their school because it aimed for its students to be responsible Fortune 500 heirs. It was, however, a subject Seri didn’t look forward to, and not just because she was abysmal with numbers.
Students rushed to their seats when Professor Alexeyev came in, followed moments later by his aide, the nineteen-year-old Sergei Grachyov. The two were nearly identical, being both tall dark-haired men with the same impeccable taste in suits.