Billionaire Flawed 1(350)

And, what else?

That's it, Mr. Sokolov. I don't know anymore. She cried out when he slapped her across the face.

What else? I won't ask again.

They went upstairs together. Mel burst into tears.

Jesus Christ. What next? I thought I could trust him. He tightened his grip on Mel's blouse. Screwing a journalist is going too far, but screwing a black journalist in my restaurant is disrespectful and deceitful. Tell him I want a word with him as soon as he comes back. Mel nodded and attempted to cover herself up.







Jesus, what the ..... Lela exclaimed just as she was about to take the boiling kettle from the stove. She ran upstairs and banged on the bathroom door. Nicki, what's the matter. Are you okay?

Nicki didn't reply; she was sitting on the edge of the bath with her head in her hands. If only she hadn't stopped taking the pill during her stay in Moscow, Nathan hadn't been with her, and she'd had no intention of sleeping with anyone casually so she'd just stopped. Andrey had worn a condom, yes he had, she remembered distinctly.

Nicki, Nicki, let me in. Lela was getting frantic. Nobody screaming like that could be alright. She jumped back to one side as the door opened and Nicki ran passed her. Inside, Lela picked up the pregnancy tester and read the text on the tiny display. Pregnant 2-3.









Why the hell do you still work with him? Andrey asked himself as he drove up to Sokolov's mansion. You have enough cash to last you a life time. You're a fool to have anything to do with him. All because you love the Crab and Lobster. Buy it off him and then tell him to F-off.

I hear you wanted to seek me, Maxim. Sokolov's mansion was on the edge of Brighton Beach. It was just like one would expect a man of Sokolov's breeding to own. Brash and full of gold.

Andrey, come in and sit down. Sokolov was sitting in his favorite chair next to the fire. It was another cold day and under normal circumstances, the sight of the burning logs would have raised anyone's spirits. But Andrey wasn't in the mood for cozy fires. He hadn't liked what Sokolov had done to Mel. Mel was just a kid, and she didn't deserve the kind of treatment he'd afforded her.

What did you do to Mel? The poor kid couldn't stop bubbling when I came back yesterday evening.

What did I do to Mel? he retorted sarcastically. It's your fault.

Andrey looked around trying to calm himself. It was a pretentious house. All the sofas in the large sitting room were gold, and the carpet was a different shade of gold. The wallpaper was gray with gold stripes, and all the pictures on the walls had gold frames.

How is it my fault?

Andrey, how much money have you got in the bank?

What the hell has that got to do with Mel? About thirty million.

And how did you come by all that money? Sokolov was being smug and coy, and Andrey hated him for it. Sure he'd helped him a lot during the early days, but there was no need to keep reminding him.

Real estate deals.

Yer, real estate deals. And who gave you the first piece of real estate?

You. This was what he always did. Whenever he disliked something Andrey did, he'd call him in, and reminded him that it was he who had given Andrey a property to get him going. Sokolov was also from St Petersberg and when he'd bumped into Andrey they'd chatted about the city. Sokolov had been impressed by Andrey's physique and given him a job as one of his rent collectors. Some of the things Andrey had done, he was not proud of. Evicting men and women with young children had never been his thing, but he'd done it. He'd seen Sokolov's real estate gift to him as justified payment for the sleepless nights he was still having.

Me indeed. Sokolov looked at the fire for a while then jumped up and took Andrey by the throat. What the fuck were you doing screwing that black journalist in my restaurant the other evening?

It was just that, a screw, so what's your problem? Andrey thought he was strong enough to push Sokolov from him, but he wasn't sure he could beat him in the boxing match that was bound to ensue if he did so.

My problem is two fold. First she's a journalist and second; she's black. I don't want a person like that snooping around in my life. If I see her again, she's a goner. Got it?

So what if she's black, you racist pig? She's hotter than any slut you've ever had. Andrey fell back onto the sofa as Sokolov landed an upper cut to his chin.







Nicki stood outside the Crab and Lobster for half an hour before she got the courage to go inside. Mel looked at her and turned away.

Mel is Andrey here?

Mel had nothing against Nicki but she didn't need another confrontation with Sokolov, and she was scared he would do worse than tear her blouse next time. Upstairs, but leave now. You're not welcome here.

I need to speak to him. It's important.

Mel turned to her. When she saw Nicki's face, feminine intuition told her why Nicki had come to the restaurant, and she felt sorry for her. You know the way, Mel said pointing to the stairs.