Russian Billionaire's Virgin Assistant

“We’re going home,” he retorted. “The driver already knows.”

Sure, we went home. But I didn’t follow Alexei out of the car as it pulled up in front of the estate.

“Don’t do this, Maxim,” he warned me, offering me his hand to get out of the car. “Maybe you lost control of yourself earlier tonight, and that could possibly be excused — as long as you made amends and apologized to poor Ruth. Right now, though, you know exactly what you’re doing — and exactly what it will cost.”

“Let’s go,” I called to the driver lazily, and I didn’t so much as look back at my brother as we drove off

.

I found myself at the old club I used to frequent. The one I visited back when my life was normal. Manageable. Something I actually understood.

“Mr. Volkov, it’s been a while,” the bouncer said, ushering me through the VIP entrance immediately. “Welcome back, sir. Your usual?”

“Yes,” I said, hoping I didn’t look as wrecked as I felt. “A bottle of vodka — cold. No mixers. No interruptions.”

“Yes, sir.”

All I wanted to do was drink and forget. Reach that place of complacency once more. Reset myself to zero so that I could start moving forward again.

But I could barely see the dancers below me. I had used to watch them so carefully, picking apart their flaws, and finding the characteristics I liked in a woman. Now, they all blurred together. None of them were even close to Ruth.

It was fine. So what if I couldn’t focus on the dancers? That had happened plenty of times when I was too invested in a deal happening at the company. I came here to try to unwind, and ended up doing work over drinks and the booming music.

If I could lose myself in work, it was almost as good as losing myself to a dancer.

I opened my phone and called Ruth before I could catch myself, like it was some kind of goddamn reflex. I cursed and ended the call before it could be answered. That was the absolute last thing I needed — gasoline to be thrown on an already raging fire. What would Ruth think of me being in a place like this tonight?

Instead, I looked at my emails. Thought about sending Ruth one. Glazed over and read the same message over and over again until I realized that I didn’t have a taste for work, either.

What did it matter? Why work at anything at all when I wasn’t with the woman I loved? Working so hard was meaningless when I didn’t have anything to work for. Like it or not, no matter what I was doing over the course of these past few months, I had been working for Ruth Miracle. She had driven me and motivated me and challenged me. She had made me wake up in the morning ready to conquer the day and go to sleep at night with a smile.

She had made my work — and my life — worth doing.

I’d barely made a dent in my bottle of vodka, but it was time to go. I left a generous handful of bills as a tip and left the way I’d come in.

I didn’t want any of these women. I didn’t want anything like this anymore.

There was only one thing I wanted, now. Ruth Miracle. And I was going to get her back.

Sixteen

Ruth

I didn’t remember the ride back to the condo from my dad’s house, but I remembered the cold press of the passenger side window against my hot face.

I didn’t remember the walk inside, but I remembered the circular buttons in the elevator, the one that was supposed to be our home illuminated.

I didn’t remember getting in bed, but there I found myself, weeping and shaking just as suddenly as I’d been silent before, Becca lying next to me and trying to hold me.

“Just breathe, Ruth. I’m sorry this is happening, but you have to just breathe.”

It was such a simple task — one my body usually took care of for me without me having to think about it. But getting oxygen into my lungs was nearly insurmountable. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

“I’m going to call a doctor, okay?” I could hear the strain in Becca’s voice even as she tried to keep it calm and even. “You need to see one anyway, right? Might as well do the two birds, one stone approach.”

“I’m just sad,” I managed to say. “Please don’t call a doctor.”

“I know you’re sad, Ruth. But you’re hyperventilating. I don’t know how that can be good for you … or the baby.”