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And so would he, he thought grimly. As soon as he reached his place, he would jerk himself off, imagining that it was his beautiful little bee holding his cock—-
This was how both of them would survive until Fredericka learned to trust him.
Chapter Eight
Walking into the diningroom of his family home, Sergei Grachyov stopped dead when the first thing he caught sight of was his baby stepsister Seri Devereux, being thoroughly kissed by the man who held her possessively in his arms.
That man was Sergei’s own brother, Vassi.
“Dammit, Vassi,” the billionaire muttered irritably under his breath. Although the family already had over a year to adjust to the fact that Seri and Vassi were in love with each other, it hadn’t made the sight of their baby sister in a passionate clinch any easier. As far as he and the other men in the Grachyov family were concerned, Seri would always be their baby girl, and no man would ever do.
Squeaking upon discovering that her oldest brother had walked on them, Seri immediately tried pulling away from Vassi, who relented reluctantly, lifting his mouth away from hers.
But Vassi being Vassi, he only did so to change tactics. “Good morning, Sergei.” The respectful murmur was but a wicked taunt, Vassi bending his head to bite the curve of Seri’s ear right after.
Sergei swore under his breath.
At the same time, the door to the dining room swung open once more, and in came the middle Grachyov brother. Having overheard Sergei swear, he asked, “What’s wrong?” Then he saw Seri in the circle of Vassi’s arms, which were positioned right below Seri’s breasts, and Misha swore, too.
Seri turned red. “Vassi, please.”
But Vassi only gave her a devilish smile, which of course made her heart race.He was such a rascal, she thought helplessly. He had been like this from the very start, always wanting to yank their older brothers’ chains because seeing them pissed off gave him too much pleasure.
The door swung open again, and this time it was Fyodor Grachyov, the patriarch of the family, stepping inside. At the sight of her stepfather, Seri didn’t even think, guiltily elbowing Vassi away as she rushed forward.
Vassi’s grunt of pain had Misha and Sergei fist-bumping each other behind their father’s back.
“Dobroye utro,’ Seri said extra brightly as she curled an arm around Fyodor’s and walked with him to the dining table, her three stepbrothers following suit from behind.
“Good morning,kroshka,” Fyodor murmured indulgently. He watched his family settle in their seats, taking pleasure at seeing them together and at peace. Even now, the memories of the time that they had once been divided still haunted him, and Fyodor was determined he would not let such a thing happen again.
He would do everything possible to prevent his family from suffering such pain, even if it called for meddling – which was what he was about to do. The 44-year-old billionaire bided his time patiently, allowing his children to enjoy their meal leisurely. Only when they had moved to coffee did he finally broach the subject that was uppermost on his mind, turning to his eldest son, saying, “Today is the day Fredericka will leave,da?”
“Da.” Sergei’s face was impassive, his tone unruffled.
Misha raised a brow. “And you are not bothered by this?”
