The world as Fredericka knew it stopped existing the moment Sergei officially introduced her as the mother of his unborn child. The first major change was the shift in media coverage. It used to be that she appeared in headlines of dailies, and articles written about her were focused on the cases she handled. Now, she still did appear in headlines, but this included all sorts of tabloids and gossip rags, and the articles were more a collection of rumors and innuendos rather than facts and figures. They also all talked about what an older woman like her could have done to snag a gorgeous Russian billionaire like Sergei Grachyov.

“I think this is the best article about me so far,” Fredericka decided over breakfast one morning, and to prove her point, she turned the paper around so Sergei and the other Grachyovs could read the headlines.

Taking the newspaper from Fredericka’s hands, Seri Devereux read out loud, “Fredericka Spears, following in the footsteps of her mentor Amal Clooney.” A blonde with striking good looks in her early twenties, Seri was famous all over the globe for several reasons. One was because of her work as a seiyuu or voice actor, second was because she was the one girl that all the Grachyov men openly doted on and would readily kill for, and third was because she happened to be dating her stepbrother, Vassi Grachyov.

The second major change in her life, Fredericka mused, and something she was still reeling from if she had to be honest. Pregnancy seemed to have made her unable to say ‘no’ to Sergei, and before she knew it, the Russian billionaire had convinced her to move back to California and live with him and the rest of the Grachyovs in their sprawling mansion.

Since her mother’s death, the only people she had allowed herself to form attachments to were Anneke and Alyx and her family. When she had felt her life was too empty, she had only toyed with the idea of being someone’s girlfriend, and now she knew she had chosen the professor because while he was perfect on paper and he could make her heart skip a beat, he didn’t threaten her. Her world wouldn’t collapse if he left her or said no.

But Sergei was different. The Russian billionaire hadn’t just gotten under her skin but had found a way to permanently glue himself to a part of her heart. Even worse, Fredericka thought with just a tiny amount of unease, the other members of his family had somehow managed to make themselves just as important to her as well.

What was it with these Grachyovs that they made you want them to stay in your life forever?

“Is it true, Freddie?” she heard Seri ask.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she asked, “What’s true?”

“That Amal’s your mentor?”

“Nope,” Fredericka admitted cheerfully, “but Sergei brought me once to an event, and George Clooney and Amal were there, and I sort of did a photo-bombing thing---”

“Sort of?” Sergei coughed politely. As far as he could recall, Fredericka had practically pushed her way to the front in hopes of catching Amal Clooney’s attention.

Misha, the middle Grachyov brother, took the article from his sister’s hand and scanned the rest of it. Dark-haired and silver-eyed, Misha was the family’s genius, with two degrees under his belt – and counting – at the ripe old age of twenty-four. When he looked up, he said dryly, “I don’t think you should take this article as a compliment.”

“Why not?” Fredericka was confused.

“Because, my future sister-in-law---”

Fredericka turned red and Sergei grinned.

“It’s saying that the two of you are hooking up with famous rich guys because you want trophy husbands.”

Her jaw dropped open, but before she could respond, Sergei leaned close to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s fine, pchelka.” His tone was silky smooth. “I’m fine with being a trophy husband. It means I can retire and you’ll start working for us, da?”

His siblings burst out laughing, and even the patriarch of the family, the intimidating ex-pugilist Fyodor Grachyov, was doing his best not to smile.

“No one’s going to be my trophy husband,” she protested.

But no one was listening to her. The other Grachyovs were too busy congratulating Sergei for finding the ideal wife.

Fredericka made a face, but she knew deep inside that she was just pretending to be mad. The truth was, she loved this family. If love at first sight was possible, then that was exactly how she felt the moment she had moved in with this rich, gorgeous bunch of lunatics. They had made her feel like family from day one, so much so that she couldn’t even recall what life was like before Sergei Grachyov and his family entered the picture.

Beside her, Sergei leaned close to her again, and she tried not to sniff appreciatively when she caught a whiff of his cologne. He had always smelled so good, but these days she just couldn’t get enough of his scent.

“Eat the rest of your food, pchelka,” he urged gently.

“But I already feel full.”

“You have to eat for yourself and for our baby, you know that, right?” Sergei reached for her spoon, asking, “How about I feed you---”

What? When she saw that the billionaire was indeed serious, she hastily grabbed the spoon from his hold, muttering, “I can feed myself, thanks.”

Sergei smiled. “Good girl.”

And just like that, she knew that he had only bluffed about feeding her, knowing that it would get her to eat.

Jerk, Fredericka thought without heat.

Sergei Grachyov should have been everything that she hated, but instead he was proving her every prejudice wrong.

Younger guys were supposed to be immature, but instead Sergei had taken his impending fatherhood in stride. He had issued a press release about her pregnancy, and he had his secretary pen all her doctor’s appointments and workshop dates into his calendar. He also seemed to know more about the ins and outs of pregnancy than she did, and when Fredericka had asked him about it, he had told her without an ounce of embarrassment that he had already read six manuals on the subject.

He was perfect husband material in other words, and it was getting harder and harder for her to remember why she had to turn his proposal down.

When everyone was finished with breakfast, the Grachyovs started to stand and Fredericka cursed in her mind. Shit. She had been so busy daydreaming she had forgotten about this. She hastily came to her feet, hoping to escape, but it was too late.

Vassi, the youngest Grachyov brother and the family’s prankster, reached for her first. He might look like a silver-haired angel at first glance, but he was really the devil in disguise and he gave her a crushing bear hug, murmuring piously, “Seri and I have to leave for work, big sister. We’ll miss you and the baby.”

“Ha!” But her face still ended up flaming, and Vassi released her with a laugh.

Seri reached her next and the younger girl placed a kiss on her cheek. “See you later, Freddie.”

The two linked hands as they walked away, both of them at ease with being a couple made infamous by the fact that they were also stepsiblings.

When she noticed Misha reaching for her, she quickly tried pulling back, but because he had really long arms, he still managed to ruffle her hair in the end. “It’s my turn to babysit today, so I’ll be checking on you later on.” Although notorious for being coldly indifferent to everything and everyone outside his family and work, Misha had made an exception in her case.

Unfortunately.

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered.

“I know that,” Misha answered patiently. “But big brother over there---” He inclined his head to Sergei, who was leaning against the breakfast counter and gazing at them with amusement as he took a sip of his coffee. “---will die if anything happens to you. The entire family, actually, will be devastated, so I need to do my part and make sure nothing happens to you while you’re on my watch.”

“I am not a kid,” Fredericka growled.

“I know that, too.” And this time, Misha slanted a pointed glance at her tiny bump, which her wraparound dress couldn’t hide.

The innuendo had her muttering, “S-shut up.” She glared at him as he walked away, but then she found herself face to face with Fyodor Grachyov. Although he was in his mid-forties, the older man looked more like a big brother to his grown-up children. Sergei was, in fact, the mirror image of his father, and looking at Fyodor, Fredericka already knew that Sergei was blessed to look beautiful for the rest of his life.

“Has the pregnancy caused you any discomfort?” Fyodor was asking.

Hurriedly pushing all envious thoughts of Sergei’s gorgeousness aside, she shook her head, mumbling, “It’s been great so far. Just a few unusual food cravings, but other than that, nothing.”

Behind them, Sergei coughed politely, but Fredericka pretended not to hear it. So ‘a few’ and ‘unusual’ were understatements, but so what? He had knocked her up, now he had to live with the consequences, and that included looking for an exotic Asian shrimp paste paired with an equally exotic variety of mangoes – in the middle of night.

“That’s good to hear. If you need any of us, do not hesitate to call, okay?”

She nodded.

He raised a brow.

Aaaaargh. He really was like the rest of them. Or rather, all of his children took after him. She said obediently, “Da, Papa.”

Fyodor grinned. “It gets easier, da?”

“Nyet,” she returned honestly, but her answer only made the older man laugh.

And then it was just her and Sergei, and she told him accusingly, “See what you’ve done? It’s like this every morning!”

But the billionaire only smiled, saying mildly, “All I told them was to make you feel like you’re part of the family because you’ve spent most of your life alone.”

“What you really mean is you’re all sadistic by nature, and you all enjoy torturing me by smothering me with hugs and kisses.”

“That, too,” he agreed.

She watched him place his cup down on the counter, and when he turned to face her again, the gleam in his dark gaze made her gasp. “No!” But her breathless tone gave her away, and when he took a step towards her, Fredericka’s knees buckled as a sweet, thrilling kind of dread filled her.

“N-no, Sergei.”

“You mean yes,” he mocked, “don’t you?”

This time she didn’t bother to answer and simply whirled away and ran out of the Grachyovs’ informal dining room. Unfortunately, she only made it as far as the stairs by the time he caught her, and Fredericka let out a little shriek when he swept her up in his arms from behind.

His slumberous dark gaze met hers, and her heart started to hammer. “Pick a place, pchelka.”

The husky, accented words made her shudder, but she tried to hang on to her common sense, saying weakly, “You might be late for work.”

He shrugged her concern off, saying, “This is more important.”

“But---”

“Choose, little bee, or I’ll choose for you.”

And since she knew he would choose a place that was particularly risqué or even public, she said right away, “Our bedroom please.” She hugged him tightly afterwards, but it was only a pretext so she could hide her flaming face in the crook of his neck.

Life was so different now, she thought. It used to be that she had woken up every day, feeling like she was in a race against time, a race to prove her self-worth, a race to show her dead father that he would regret running out on the child he had sired. Work had been everything to her, and she had scrimped and saved every penny just so she could afford to go to more classes and workshops. She had done everything possible to make it to the top as quickly as possible.

And she had, but in the end, she had found it so easy to walk away from what she had worked so hard for her entire life.

When Sergei laid her down on their bed, his handsome face filled her vision, and Fredericka thought dazedly, This is my life now.

Life was now made of mornings where she would wake in the billionaire’s arms, and he would make love to her even before she could tell him ‘good morning.’ Life was about going to class so she could learn about safe deliveries and early motherhood, life was about going shopping with the entire Grachyov brood in tow as they hunted down the best crib, the best pajamas, and everything else that was deserving of the first baby in the family.

“I can feel you thinking,” Sergei murmured. “Are you worried about something?”

She shook her head, whispering, “Life just feels so different now.”

“Because it’s good?”

“Too good.”

“And that’s bad?”

She lifted her shoulders in an uneasy shrug.

“How about we do something bad then, for a change?”

Her eyes widened.

But he was already pulling away and rising to his knees, and Fredericka bit her lip to keep herself from protesting at the sudden absence of his weight over her body. She watched him reach for one of the bedside drawers---

Wait!

That was her drawer.

And hidden inside it was---

“Sergei, stop---” But when he looked back at her, she realized it was too late. He already had her little pink toy in her hands. “Oh my God!” She moaned in embarrassment, and the billionaire laughed.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” he asked dulcetly.

Fredericka could only let out another moan. Was there no end to her embarrassment?

“I know everything about you.” The billionaire’s voice was rough with need, but his touch was gentle as he pushed her dress up to her waist and pulled her panties off her legs.

Being half naked while the billionaire was still fully clothed made her feel wanton and heady at the same time, and she could only watch at him with eyes clouded with passion as he pushed her legs apart. “Hold them up,” he commanded, “but keep them wide open.”

She did as commanded, feeling all the while that she was setting herself up for the most delicious kind of fall.

And then she felt him pressing the toy to her clit---

Oh God.

It started to vibrate.

Her head fell back against the pillows, her fingers tightening around her knees as she gasped his name out loud.

As the toy whirred busily against her clit, the billionaire slid one finger inside her.

“Sergei!”

Two fingers now.

“Oh God.” His fingers started to move.

“Oh God, oh God.” Three fingers now.

And then he was fisting her, the same time increasing the strength of vibration of her little toy, and her entire body shudder. “Sergeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiii-----” It took only a few more shoves, a few more vibrations, and she was screaming as she came, the force of her release making her eyes roll back.

When she finally regained her senses and managed to catch her breath, the billionaire had already scooped her off her back and was now arranging her on her fours.

“S-Sergei?”

He positioned himself behind her.

Again? She twisted her head around to gape at him, saying weakly, “It’s too much.”

He ran a hand lovingly down her back, but instead of answering he simply thrust his engorged erection inside her, his cock plunging so deep inside it shoved her forward and she gasped.

“I’ve only fucking started, pchelka.” And when she felt him pressing her toy to her clit once more, she knew it was true. The fun was getting started, and it would be torture, pure, beautiful, excruciating torture.

It was over an hour later by the time Sergei left for work, and he only did so when he had helped Fredericka take a bath, told her sternly to rest, and kissed her on the forehead before tucking her in.

She did as asked even without planning to because this, too, was another inevitable change that pregnancy had brought in. She was just so damn sleepy all the time.

It was half-past ten when she woke up, and only because one of the live-in maids employed by the Grachyovs had gently woken her up, telling her that she had a visitor.

Remembering that her cousin had flown in to visit her and was due today, she hastily got up and asked the maid to take Alyx to her office. Upon moving in, Sergei had told her explicitly the first day that he would not let her have her own room. Instead, he would give Fredericka her own home library, and she could do with it as she saw fit.

Alyx grinned in relief when the door burst open and her redheaded cousin came rushing in. “You look fantastic,” she exclaimed as she gave Fredericka a rare tight hug. She would never admit it, but she had worried greatly about her cousin. “You’re practically glowing,” Alyx continued admiringly. “Does this mean everything’s going great with you and your Russian boy toy?”

“Alyx!”

“Your Russian billionaire, I mean?”

“Alyx!”

“How about trophy husband?”

“No!”

“Then what about---” When Fredericka growled, she said laughingly, “Okay, okay, just answer the question. Are you happy with Sergei?”

“Yes.” But her voice came out strangled. “I’m really happy. With him. His family.” And without warning, Fredericka burst into tears. “I’m happy when I should feel suffocated, and it’s not right. I think I should leave him.”