Russian Billionaire's Virgin Assistant

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said lightly, kissing me on my lips. “Carry on, woman. I’m starving.”

“You’re such a caveman,” I sighed, shaking my head at him. “You want to go join your brother and Becca in the other room? I just have a few things to do in here before we can get started. Well, if my dad ever finishes his disgusting cigar.”

Maxim gave me a funny look I couldn’t quite decipher, but nodded shortly and left. I expelled the breath I’d been holding in a whoosh, tossed the wine down the sink and hid my glass again, and dashed away to conceal the pregnancy test in my purse. It wasn’t as good as the neighbor’s trash, but there was no way I would be able to slip away, especially now.

When I returned to the kitchen, my dad made me jump out of my skin. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands jammed in his pockets, regarding the copious amount of wine that had materialized in the kitchen while he was outside.

“Your strays here, Ruth?” he asked, eyeing me. “Can we get this over with?”

“Oh, stop it,” I said, brushing a few ashes off the front of his pullover. “You love Thanksgiving as much as I do. You can’t fool me.”

“It’s hard not to like all this food,” my dad remarked. “It’s the inane socializing I dislike.”

“Just think of it as the price of admission,” I reasoned. “Besides, you like talking to Becca.”

We entered the living room in a lull of conversation. At least, that’s what I told myself when everyone looked up first at me, then at my dad. Becca looked worried, but she knew more than anyone else here. Alexei looked … flushed. Like maybe he had warmed up before he got here by having a bottle or two of that wine. He was relaxed, an arm slung around Becca, his wine glass already drained.

Maxim was probably as physically uncomfortable as I was, his muscular bulk perched on the edge of a chair I didn’t have the heart to tell him was my dad’s. He gripped his wine glass like a lifeline.

“Dad, these are the Volkov brothers — Maxim and Alexei,” I said. “Max and Lex, this is my dad — Gerald.”

“Mr. Miracle is fine,” my dad said with a shortness that made me peer at him.

“I’ve always liked Mr. Miracle,” Becca said, smiling as she attempted to diffuse whatever tension had built upon our arrival. “I think it sounds like a superhero. But what would your superpower be, Mr. Miracle?”

“Family can call me Gerald,” he fussed at her. “And Dad.”

“I think his superpower would be his hospitality,” I said, patting his back perhaps a little too hard. “Are you all hungry? I am. I’ve been having to smell it cook all afternoon — that’s the hard part, you know. Let’s go load up our plates.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me how you know these two?” my dad asked, apparently intent on being difficult.

“You know full well how I know Max,” I said. “He’s my boss. For my internship. And Lex is his brother.”

“Maxim Volkov is the CEO of Volkov Telecom,” my dad said. “That should make him the boss of your boss of your boss — and on down.”

“Several more bosses, in fact,” Maxim said, straightening his sweater as he stood. He was taller than my dad, and in our tiny living room, he seemed to take up a ton of space.

“So tell me then, please, Ruth.” My dad turned to me with a hard smile I didn’t quite understand. “Why have you invited the CEO of Volkov Telecom to my house?”

“It’s been a while since we talked,” I soothed. “I report directly to Max at my internship, now. It’s been an amazing experience.”

Maxim looped an arm around my shoulders and I froze. “And one thing led to another, of course. You have an amazing daughter, Gerald.”

“That’s Mr. Miracle to you,” my dad hissed.

I wasn’t ready for any of this. Sure, I had thought the topic might come up. But with everything that had happened between me inviting Maxim to Thanksgiving and him actually being here, I wondered if this might have been one of the things my dad deemed important enough to warrant a phone call.

It wasn’t my fault I still couldn’t properly interpret those quirks.

“Please, let’s eat,” Becca said. I hadn’t even realized she and Alexei had stood up from the loveseat. “I’m starving — I bet we’ll all be able to access our superpowers once we have a plate of amazing food in front of us. Ruth did almost all of it, but don’t let her try to take credit for the green bean casserole — that’s all me.”

“Have some wine, Mr. Miracle,” Alexei said with a smile. “We brought a case.”

“I’m sure you did,” my dad muttered, but we all somehow moved through the kitchen with our plates and into the dining room. I thought the crisis might have been averted after we all tucked in to dinner, but I was wrong.

God, I was wrong.

“When my daughter told me of her internship at Volkov Telecom, she did not tell me it was directly under the company’s CEO,” my dad said tightly, barely touching the range of foods on his plate. He didn’t look up at Maxim, but Maxim smiled.