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“And make your heart jump in terror because if you see me go on bended knee, you know I’ll just make you swoon and I’ll have my family record every damn second—-”
She wrapped her arms around him, laughing harder even as her heart tried hammering a hole out of her chest. “Shut up.” Her voice was muffled against his neck. “I hate it, you know.” She hugged him more tightly. “I hate it that so many women know your body, and I hate it that they’re all prettier than I am.”
“They’re not.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,pchelka.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “You are the only woman who turns me on. Does that not make you the only beautiful woman in my eyes as well?”
She pulled away, sniffing, “Oh, Sergei.”
He smiled at her. “Do you think I can propose to you now?”
She quickly hugged him again, hiding her expression from his gaze. “No.” He always asked this question every night, and it hurt that always had to turn him down. Swallowing, she added haltingly, “Or at least...not just yet.” Fredericka squeezed her eyes shut.Please God, please, please, please help me trust him.
Chapter Sixteen
IT WAS HALF-PAST EIGHTin the evening when a matte black chopper bearing the logo of Grachyov Enterprises landed on the helipad of the family’s corporate headquarters. The CEO and president of the company, Fyodor Grachyov, was the first one to step out, followed closely by his eldest son Sergei.
Seeing the executives lined up to greet them, Fyodor grinned, and the sight of it had everyone cheering. It meant that another multibillion-dollar-deal had been successfully closed, and as was tradition for the company, it also meant bonuses for everyone, all the way down to the rank and file.
When Sergei joined him, Fyodor said, “You’re doing it again.”
“What?” It was hard to hear his father over the deafening roar coming from the chopper, whose engine was still running.
This time, Fyodor waited until they made it to the elevator and were on their way down to the lobby. Turning to his son, he said, “You were doing it again:smilingwithout reason.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Nyet.” A grin curling on his lips, Fyodor continued matter-of-factly. “I’ve instructed security to make sure they save the footage of every instance they see you doing it. It shall be my wedding gift for Fredericka, a scrapbook full of your candid photos.”
Sergei cursed, and his father laughed.
By the time the pair made it to the lobby, the two was arguing heatedly, with Sergei threatening to resign as vice president if Fyodor pushed on with his plans.
On their way out of the building, Sergei’s phone vibrated, and Fyodor saw his son’s face harden as he read his text.
“Is it Fredericka?” he asked abruptly.
“No,” Sergei said slowly. “But it is a matter that does require my immediate attention.” Looking up, he asked apologetically, “Can you let Fredericka know I will be a bit late?”
“It can’t be about work, can it?” Although he had been gradually increasing Sergei’s workload in preparation for his son’s eventual promotion to CEO, Fyodor still knew everything that went on with his company. Right now, he couldn’t think of anything related to work that would warrant such concern.
Knowing his father would keep on digging until he was given a satisfactory answer, Sergei lied, “I need to meet with Elsa Nilsson, and you must keep it from Fredericka.”
Fyodor’s face became grim. “Are you cheating on your fiancée?”
“No, but Elsa is threatening to make up stories about us, and I’m only meeting her to teach the woman a lesson.”
“Then there is no need to lie about it.”
He shook his head. “You know how Fredericka is, Papa. She still has issues, and until I have my ring on her finger, I’m not taking any risk that could cause her to bolt.”
Fyodor reluctantly agreed then, knowing that Sergei was right about his woman. Fredericka was a lovely girl, and he couldn’t have asked for a better daughter-in-law. But he also knew of her past and did not blame the younger woman for still struggling to trust his son.
The waiting limousine took Fyodor home while Sergei went straight to the basement. Slipping behind the wheel of his sports car, he drove to a nearby hotel, where his mother Tanya Darby was checked in.
“You’re late,” were the first words his mother uttered upon letting him in. A tall, beautiful brunette in her forties, she had a silk robe over a rumpled black dress, and there were large bags under her eyes.