Crash into Me: A BWWM Russian Billionaire Romance

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Crash into Me: A BWWM Russian Billionaire Romance Page 2

by Cristina Grenier


  The sisters laughed warmly and Alexei couldn’t help but smile at that. His father had never been inclined to displays of affection or declarations of love. Alexei had only seen him interact with any of his sisters a few times, but it was obvious that they loved him. It was obvious that he would be missed for more than the fact that he’d been good with numbers or was good at business. That was nice to see.

  Of course, he was the only one who felt like that. At the head of the table, Veronika slammed her glass down, splashing water over her hand.

  “I do not think this is appropriate talk for the occasion,” she said sharply.

  Every head swiveled to look at her, and Dagna looked confused. “What do you mean, Veronika? We’re remembering our brother.”

  “You’re making a mockery of him,” Veronika snapped, clearly upset. “Telling stories about him doing childish things. And in front of his children, too. Is that how you remember him?”

  The sisters exchanged glances and then soft spoken Ana smiled. “Of course we remember him for his accomplishments as well,” she said. “But he was our brother before he was a ruthless business man. We aren’t mocking him, but speaking fondly of the man we all loved. Don’t you want your children to know that there was more than one side to him?”

  “No!” Alexei’s mother said firmly. “I want them to remember him with respect.”

  “Mother,” Alexei said softly. “Leave it be.”

  “I will not! This whole thing has been a mockery of my husband and the man he was, and I won’t stand for it a moment longer!”

  She got to her feet and strode away from the table, heels clacking furiously on the floor as she went. The rest of the people at the table watched her in silence for a moment, and then the muttering started.

  Alexei sighed, wondering how long he could sit there and eat potato salad before he was expected to get up and try and do something about his mother’s tantrum. He could practically feel Vera’s eyes boring into him while he sat there; so he sighed and pushed his chair back from the table, smiling apologetically at his aunts.

  Vera followed as they made their way across the cathedral floor.

  “I can’t believe you just sat there,” Vera said lowly.

  Alexei gave her an incredulous look. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Take up for Mother!”

  “Are you kidding me? She was completely out of line.”

  “How? Because she didn’t want to hear about Father as a toddler? Let me guess, you probably thought that was lovely. You loved hearing about Father running about naked and refusing to eat his vegetables, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did. But I can understand how hearing that our father was human messes with your whole android thing, Vera. Must be hard to find out that he was actually a person because then we have to wonder where you came from.”

  It wasn’t a nice thing to say by any stretch of the imagination, but to be honest, Alexei was tired. He was sad and he was sick of his mother’s antics. Of course she was making this whole thing about her and her feelings, even though she was hardly the only one of them who had lost someone.

  Vera pursed her lips angrily and then shook her head. “Just stay here,” she said. “I’ll go find Mother and speak to her.”

  And then she was striding off, leaving Alexei where he was standing. He cracked his knuckles in irritation and then sighed. Instead of leaving like he had considered, he shook his head and went back to the table, giving a winning smile to his aunts. “So, tell me more about Father as a kid.”

  He didn’t stick around for much longer after that. Vera and his mother were probably holed up somewhere cursing his name and talking about how disrespectful he was, so he was perfectly fine with leaving. He hugged each of his aunts before he went, thanking them for the stories and for taking charge in the planning of the funeral in the first place.

  “I hope we didn’t upset your mother too much,” Leda said, looking concerned.

  Alexei shook his head. “It’s fine, I promise. This is just how she is.”

  From the church, he went back to his place and took a long shower, trying to shake the feelings he was having. There had never been any of that light heartedness that his aunts had displayed when he was growing up. If either he or his sister had run away from their lessons, there would have been hell to pay when their parents found out.

  On the one hand, it was nice to know that his father hadn’t always been the strict task master that he was as an adult, but on the other, Alexei was fiercely jealous that his father had been able to have a childhood.

  He sighed and finished his shower before collapsing into bed. What he needed now was a long nap and then to go out. He needed to get his mother’s voice out of his head and to stop thinking about how much his sister disliked him and how much he missed his father even though they had never really had a relationship that one would call warm.

  Thinking about that wasn’t going to make anything better, so he punched his pillow and sighed, letting the warmth of the day and his own exhaustion send him to sleep for a few hours.

  It was nearly dark when he woke up again, and that was perfect. Alexei had time to grab a bite to eat for dinner and then get dressed and decide where he wanted to go. He wanted to drink, he knew that much, but he was also very interested in having some company, so he took that into account and chose his club accordingly.

  Spectre was one of those hipster type places that served expensive alcohol and had an outlandish cover charge, but it was always packed and that was what Alexei was looking for at the moment. It was nothing for him to hand over his money at the door, and the he just arched an eyebrow when the bouncer gave him a once over.

  He already knew from his clothes and posture that the bouncer would be able to tell he belonged there. Alexei could only imagine that since he didn’t seem to be checking IDs at the door, he was checking for something else, and he stood straight backed and proud and let the man look.

  After a few seconds he was being waved inside, and he nodded to the bouncer and made his way in.

  It was a nice place, that was for certain. Carpeted in certain areas, hardwood floors in others, sectioned off to designate places that were for sitting and drinking from the places that were meant strictly for dancing. The music had a deep, thrumming beat, and it sounded like a dubstep remix of some popular song or other.

  All the furniture was dark and made of leather from what Alexei could see, and the bar was packed, the low blue lights showing three thin, pretty blonde women making drinks behind it.

  When he looked around, it seemed that there was another bar off to the side, servicing the people hanging around near the couches and loveseats of the lounge area. Deciding that he didn’t want to wade through the dancefloor and all the people on it, he made his way over to the less crowded bar and found a stool.

  The bartender here was a pretty brunette woman with hazel eyes and a tight black shirt with the name of the club emblazoned across the chest in light blue letters.

  Considering how large her chest was, it was good advertisement as far as he was concerned.

  She passed a drink to someone further down the bar and then turned to smile at him. “What can I get you?” she asked.

  Alexei gave her his best winning grin. “Well, now, that depends,” he said, letting his accent stand out. Women were always intrigued by it, and he had a good idea of who he wanted to end up going home with that night. “How is your vodka?”

  The bartender grinned back, eyes lighting up. “I thought that was just a stereotype. Russians and vodka, I mean.”

  “Perish the thought,” he replied. “We take our vodka very seriously. There are two things you should never keep from a Russian man.”

  “Really? Just two.”

  “Only two that matter,” Alexei said. “The first is a very pretty girl and the second is good vodka. And since the first is already here in front of me, now all I need is a good vodka.”

  He was gratified to se
e her blush, and just like that, he knew how the night was going to go.

  As it turned out, it didn’t go exactly according to plan.

  His plan had been to flirt with the pretty bartender (“Camille,” she’d said), until the end of her shift and then proceed to taking her back home with him or accompanying her back to her place.

  The flirting definitely happened, and she was definitely receptive to it. So much, in fact, that they ended up not making it to the going home part. When Camille took her break, she had looked furtively around and then motioned for Alexei to follow her.

  He’d done so, and been surprised to find himself pressed against the wall in what appeared to be a supply room.

  Before he could suggest that they move to a more appropriate location, she was kissing him and practically tearing his shirt out of his pants, so he decided to just go with it.

  After all, she was very pretty.

  She kissed like someone who knew what she wanted, all lips and teeth, biting down on his lower lip and sucking it into her mouth, humming with pleasure when his hands slid up her back.

  “Don’t rip anything,” she panted. “I still have to go back out there.”

  “Likewise,” Alexei said, and he pushed his hands up under her shirt, displaying her breasts, cupped in dark purple lace.

  “Touch me,” she breathed, and he obeyed, grabbing twin handfuls and then dragging her bra down over the mounds of her breasts to display her dusky nipples. Dipping his head, he licked one and then bit it lightly, enjoying the soft intake of breath that was the result.

  They didn’t have a lot of time for foreplay, but they kissed a bit more. Camille got his shirt open and touched his chest in return, grinning when her hand slipped down to his crotch to palm the rapidly growing erection there.

  He bucked his hips into her hand with a low moan and then groaned when she pulled back. Of course, he didn’t have to wait long before she was moving over to a table in the back of the room, shimmying her pants down just enough that she could spread her legs a bit and show off her pert bottom and wet sex.

  Alexei didn’t want to think about how many times she’d done this before or how many times this room had been used for similar activities. He didn’t want to think at all, actually. That was the point of this. He wanted to let go of all of his family drama and sadness and just enjoy himself. By looking at what was being offered to him, he was sure there wouldn’t be any issues there.

  Without wasting anymore time, he buried himself inside of her, gritting his teeth at the tight heat that engulfed his length as he pushed in.

  Camille muffled her moans with her face in her arm and bowed her back in more, leaving no room between them.

  It was a glorious sight, and Alexei took hold of her hips and set a quick, hard rhythm, their skin slapping together every time their bodies met. It was fast and dirty and good, and by the time the hot pleasure was ready to explode out of him, Alexei’s head was gloriously clear.

  Chapter 2: Coping

  It had been nearly a week since the funeral, nothing much had changed at all. His sister still wasn’t speaking to him after their confrontation. His mother was still being dramatic. Alexei was in his bed in a tangle of sheets with a redhead, nursing a hangover that made him want to swear off drinking all together; even though everyone who knew him (including himself) knew that was never going to happen.

  He was face down in his pillows trying to remember the redhead’s name so he could tell her to leave because he didn’t do mornings after; when his phone vibrated on the night stand against an empty glass, producing a buzzing sound that made his head ache.

  “Just kill me now,” he mumbled into the pillows, sighing with relief when the phone stopped buzzing.

  Of course that relief was short lived, as the phone started up again two seconds later, and he wanted to throw himself into a lake.

  “Your phone is ringing,” said the redhead, and Alexei rolled his eyes. Apparently he hadn’t been thinking very clearly when choosing who to go home with the night before because he never did like people who spent all their time stating the obvious.

  “I’m aware,” he said dryly. “Leave, please.”

  “Excuse me?” She untangled herself from the sheets and from him and frowned. “I haven’t had breakfast or coffee or anything.”

  “Yeah, I don’t do all that,” Alexei replied, flapping a hand at her. “Out.”

  She huffed and got out of the bed, stomping around the room as she hunted for her clothes.

  The phone started vibrating for a third time, and Alexei swore and snatched it up, not bothering to check and see who it was before he answered. “What? What is it? What in the name of God’s green, though rapidly turning brown Earth is so important this early in the morning?” he snapped.

  “Is that how you speak to your mother?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “You never call my cell, Mother. I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Is that not why they created that screen that tells you who is calling?” Veronika asked, voice dry and clearly annoyed. “Furthermore, it is after eleven in the morning. You should have been up hours ago.”

  “Why?” Alexei asked, watching the redhead as she pulled on her pants and enjoying the shapely curves of her hips. Maybe he’d been hasty in telling her to leave. After a conversation with his mother, he was definitely going to need some stress relief.

  But she was grabbing up her things and slamming his bedroom door on her way out, so he figured that was probably just a dodged bullet.

  “Because you’re not an invalid,” his mother replied. “And what was that noise?”

  “Just someone leaving, Mother. What do you want?”

  Veronika sniffed. “Some streetwalker, I presume? That’s a filthy habit, Alexei, and your father would be appalled if he knew.”

  “Just doing my part to help the economy, Mother,” Alexei said, gritting his teeth and ignoring the part about his father. It was too soon for them to be using his late father against each other, but his mother never did play fair. “And she wasn’t a streetwalker. Who even says things like ‘streetwalker’?”

  “Never mind that,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay, so talk.”

  “Not on the phone. I only called your cell because Vera said you were more likely to answer that than your landline.”

  “Did she?” Alexei asked, unsurprised. Yep, seemed like Vera was still upset with him.

  “Yes, she did. Now, I want you to come over for dinner tonight so we can talk.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Mother, I can’t. I have things to do tonight. Plans have already been made, and it would be horribly rude of me to back out of them.”

  “I don’t want your excuses, Alexei. I am your mother, and I am telling you that I want you to come over for dinner tonight. Whatever hoodlums and thugs you have plans with tonight can see you some other time.”

  “Hoodlums and thugs?”

  “Don’t think I don’t know what kind of people you spend your time with, Alexei. Your father would be turning over in his grave if we’d buried him to know the way his son spends his time and money.”

  “Can we not do this?” Alexei cut in. If left unchecked, his mother would build up to a rant, and his head was already aching from the conversation as it was.

  “Do what?” Veronika snapped.

  “This thing where you tell me I’m a disappointment to the Alexandrov name or whatever. I get that already, and to be honest, I have a headache the size of Russia, and would like this conversation to be over as soon as humanly possible.”

  His mother was silent for a long moment and then she sniffed. “Dinner will be at seven sharp, Alexei. I’ll see you at six.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her that it was absurd to expect him a full hour before dinner was even going to be served, but she had already hung up, leaving him muttering to himself as he dropped his phone on the floor and flopped back into bed.

 
; Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it, then fine.

  Alexei pried himself out of bed and headed down the stairs from his bedroom to make coffee and breakfast. He’d need it if he was going to have the energy to get through the rest of the day.

  His parents’ manor was a bit ridiculous as far as Alexei was concerned. When they’d moved from Russia, he’d been eager to shake off the way they had lived before. He had gone and gotten himself a very nice penthouse apartment in the city. His parents, on the other hand, had apparently loved the drafty halls of the near literal castle they’d lived in back home, and had sought something nearly the same when they’d moved.

  The house here was smaller than the one in Russia, and less elaborately furnished, but it was also emptier, which just seemed silly to him.

  His sister still lived there in her own wing of the house, and there was a wing that was for him, as well, but he never stayed in it.

  The whole house was sprawled out over the grounds, a gleaming concoction of brick and glass that went up three floors, complete with balconies and a couple of turrets. The lawns were elegantly manicured, trees and flower beds and grass alike all groomed and pruned within an inch of their lives to the best effect. It all looked lovely, of course, and yet Alexei was always wary every time he set foot on the grounds here.

  He parked in the large garage, sighing when he glanced over at his father’s collection of cars. Most of them didn’t even get driven, and now they never would. His mother didn’t even know how to drive, and it made him sad to think about the cars sitting there just gathering dust.

  But he shook that off and got out of the car, heading into the house.

  “Good evening, Mr. Alexandrov,” one of the maids said as he walked in, bowing and holding out her hands for his jacket. “Your mother is waiting for you in the Rose parlor.”

  “Thanks, Thalia,” he replied, handing it over and then rubbing a hand across his face. He hadn’t bothered to shave before he left his place, and he knew what he looked like. Eyes slightly bloodshot, dark circles under them, hair barely tamed.

 

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