Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
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.