Her Russian Billionaires #2 SACHA

By: Susan Westwood

She pressed her lips together then nodded. She clearly didn’t like it. She clearly didn’t like him even though she didn’t know him.

“I think you’ll find I’m pretty likable when you get to know me,” Sacha said.

She didn’t turn her head. “I don’t like anything about this situation. Least of all, you.”


Kendra thought the ride up to Sacha’s penthouse was interminable. He held a sleeping Cliff in his arms as if he weighed nothing. He’d insisted that they not wake the boy.

“He must need the sleep if he’s doing it when he’s hungry.”

Kendra couldn’t argue with him. Cliff with too little sleep was not a pleasant experience. Waking him from a nap ensured he was grumpy. The elevator didn’t even open on a hallway. It opened to a living room. She wasn’t sure about the security of it all, but she’d had to show her license before Sacha could bring her up. And he owned the penthouse. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been fingerprinted.

“Follow me,” Sacha said.

Lights turned on as he walked down the hallway. Kendra was only a few steps behind.

“Cliff can sleep in this room.”

He put the boy on the bed as if he were fragile. He seemed comfortable with Cliff. As if he actually liked children. Adults could be so odd around kids if they didn’t know them or like them. This would make this stay easier. Not that it was going to be fun. She was out of her element. She’d have to retrieve her car at some point and figure out a route to work. She suspected that her commute would be longer. She didn’t work in the nicest part of Manhattan and where she was now, was.

The traffic would be a pain. Could Cliff go to school? She decided that they could discuss all of this when Cliff was settled. Sacha knelt down, in his suit that probably cost more than Kendra made in a year, then he took off Cliff’s shoes.

“I can do that,” she said.

“It’s fine.”

He pulled the comforter over Cliff she had shifted to his stomach. Sacha looked down at the boy and Kendra thought she detected an affectionate look. She must be imagining it.

“The light will turn off in a minute of him not moving. Does he need a night light?”

“No, he’s fine.”

She didn’t want to be any trouble. Sacha directed her to the next bedroom down the hallway. “Here’s is your bedroom. There’s a bathroom off of it if you want to freshen up. I’ll see what we have to eat.”

“You don’t have to feed me.”

“I have to eat so you might as well join me.”

He left as if the discussion was over. They would have to set ground rules. She’d pull her weight. She wouldn’t be an awful house guest. She’d cook and clean if necessary. She wasn’t disabled. She had more time since she wasn’t caring for her mother. She‘d have to get the number of the place Sacha sent her. She wanted to check that she’d settled in okay.

The bathroom off of her bedroom was bigger than her bedroom in her apartment, bigger than two of the bedrooms. It had gold fixtures and a deep tub. A separate shower took up one corner and that was bigger than her kitchen. For a moment, she was starkly reminded of Sacha’s wealth. He was a man used to getting his way, she was sure. She have to guard against that otherwise he might run her over. She didn’t want to lose herself while she was in this situation.

She didn’t want to lose control of the life she’d carefully planned. It wasn’t a life full of luxuries, but it was her life. She was pretty happy with it.

Splashing water on her face, she realized just how hungry she was. Dinner sounded good. She checked on Cliff as she went by. He was still asleep. The light had turned off. She closed the door gently.

She found Sacha in the kitchen. He had changed from his work clothes into jeans and another button-down shirt. This one had he the sleeves rolled up on. He’d tied on a white apron that looked like a professional chef would use it.

He smiled as Kendra stood in the doorway. “All I have to cook are some chicken breasts. Chicken Kiev okay?”

She didn’t know what that was so she nodded. She wasn’t a particular eater so anything he put on a plate would do.

“Can I help?”

“You’re my guest, no.”

“Sacha, we don’t know how long this will last. I’m going to pitch in and pull my weight. You tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

He eyed her for a moment. “Okay. Set the counter for us.”

He pointed to a drawer then indicated an eight food island at the other end of his kitchen. She put out placemats and silverware for three. In case Cliff woke up.

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