Surrogate Breeder

The coffee had long gone cold, and what remained was a sour, shit-like taste on my tongue. I smoothed my dress before adjusting myself on the sofa for the tenth time.

"We'll discuss this later, Marcus. Let me attend to Miss Marlowe," Mr Kstervenchi said.

"Yes, sir." 

I stared at Marcus, silently begging him to stay. He glanced at me, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he walked out. My gaze followed his retreating form until the door closed behind him. Then silence followed. I tucked my hands between my thighs, my toes curling tightly.

"Miss—"

"I am deeply sorry, Mr Kstervenchi. I didn't mean to push you out—"

He chuckled, cutting me off. "If I were upset about what you did, we wouldn't be sitting here about to finalize a contract, would we?"

I let out a relieved exhale. 

"Did you read through everything carefully?"

I nodded.

"How do you like your new home?"

I cleared my throat. "I actually asked for an apartment—" I paused, pursing my lips. "Not a house." I leaned forward a bit, squinting at him as I thought of the best way to ask the question without making it sound like I was ungrateful. "How much exactly did this... cost, sir?"

He let out a low laugh. "Do not worry about the cost, Miss Marlowe. Your sum remains yours."

My brows pinched slightly. "I don't understand, sir."

"I paid for it."

"Oh."

I stared down at my lap, fidgeting with my fingers. "That is... very kind of you, sir, but you shouldn't have done that."

He hummed. I peeked at him to find him leafing through the documents in front of him. My gaze slid down his face, then his arms. 

He definitely worked out, that much was certain.

"True."

My attention moved back to his face, but his focus wasn't on me. It was still on his file. So I waited a few seconds, expecting him to say something else.

He didn't.

"I don’t... really like owing people," I said quietly.

"You don’t owe me anything." His gaze left his file, meeting mine. "Consider it settled."

I shifted in my seat. "I still insist, sir."

Seriously, Amy? Are you playing the humble girl or what? There's no way in hell you'd actually pay for something you didn't ask for. 

He turned back to his documents with a low hum as he began scribbling away. I stared at his fingers, or his handwriting rather. Clean. Even. Bold.

"Nine hundred thousand dollars."

"I'm sorry?"

"It cost nine hundred thousand dollars, Miss Marlowe. Would you have rather I pulled that out of your sum?"

Nine hundred thousand. 

I began doing the maths, wincing as I thought about what would have been left of my money after Mum's bills were settled, and then the house—

I glared at him, thankful that he wasn't staring at me. "I would rather I got the apartment I asked for."

He stared at me, his lips tilting into a tiny smile. Then he leaned back in his seat, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip. "You insisted on paying even though you knew it was a house, which makes me wonder—" He cocked his head to the side. "What exactly were you insisting on paying for?"

Christ. This was one of the reasons I hated intelligent people.

I cleared my throat, blinking sharply as I stared at everything except him. "Well, I was insisting on paying for the apartment I asked for."

"Even after knowing it was a house?"

There you go, Amy. Instead of saying thank you like any normal human being, you decided to drag it out.

My mouth opened. I wanted to argue, but I could tell I’d only trap myself. So I shut my mouth. "Thank you for getting me a house, Mr Kstervenchi. Even though I'd clearly stated I wanted an apartment."

A low chuckle reached my ears, the sound deep and soothing.

"Thank you too for dropping the polite attitude, Miss Marlowe. I find it doesn't quite suit you." 

He knew. The fucking bastard knew.

He pulled out a sheet of paper. "You'll sign here," he said, tapping a line on the page. "And that will finalize everything."

"I'm sorry to ask, Mr Kstervenchi, but what about my mother?"

"The hospital will call you shortly after this."

I nodded as I picked up the pen. My gaze lingered on the page, my hand hovering over it. Then finally, I signed.

"I will take my leave now. Should you need anything, don't hesitate to call Mr Larvin or any of the attendants. Everyone is at your service, okay?"

"Yes, Mr Kstervenchi. Thank you."

He gave me a smile, then gathered his things before walking out.

.............

I paced my room, biting my fingernails as I stared at my phone. True to his word, the hospital called.

"Hello."

"Miss Marlowe, this is Angela."

"Hey."

"So... the hospital just received a transfer covering all of your mother's bills."

"Ah... yes. That was from me. How's she doing?"

"They've commenced treatment already."

"I see..."

Silence lingered on the other end, stretching for a few seconds.

"I know I have no right to pry, Miss Marlowe. But I hope you didn't do anything illegal—"

"Of course not, Angela," I rushed out. "I just got a good job and they paid in advance, that's all."

A loud exhale floated through the phone. "If that's the case, then I have no choice but to believe you."

"Thank you."

"But if you ever feel unsafe at any point, the hospital is just a call away, okay?"

I chuckled. "I think you mean the police."

She laughed softly. "Take care of yourself, Miss Marlowe, and have a good day ahead."

"You too, Angela."

The line ended and I plopped into bed, staring at the ceiling.

..............

Christopher's POV 

I glared at the men as they offloaded boxes from the van. A box dropped onto the concrete with a dull thud.

"Ostorozhno!" I yelled. [Be careful!]

"Izvinite, shef," he said, bowing low before going back to his duties. [Sorry, boss.]

I crossed my arms over my chest, my fingers tapping against my arm. Two men heaved a box up, walked toward me, placed it on the floor then opened it. 

The familiar smell of gunpowder and oil wafted toward me. I scanned its contents, making sure everything was intact, then I nodded before they grabbed the box and walked away.

"Boss," Marcus called as he came to stand beside me. "They're here."

It was the moment I'd been dreading ever since my uncle called to say they were coming, without giving me a reason. The old bastard didn't make surprise visits, but whenever he did, it was never for anything simple.

"Let's go," I said walking off. He followed close behind me. The house was quiet, save for Marcus's footsteps and mine.

Familiar voices drifted toward me as we neared the meeting room. They were already arguing. I didn't need to know what it was. I already knew I wasn't going to like it.

I stepped into the room and they stopped talking.

"Nephew." My uncle came forward, pulling me in for a hug. "Davno ne videlis', kak dela?"

[It's been a while, how have you been?]

"U menya vsyo khorosho, dyadya," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. [I am doing well, Uncle.] "Khotya vash vizit dovol'no neozhidannyy."

[Although your visit is quite sudden.]

"Yes, yes. We just wanted to know how our discussion the other day is going."

"Ah... It is going well. I'm still working on it, Uncle. I will let you know when I've finally sorted things out."

He hummed.

My gaze trailed to my older half-brother, Victor, then to Uncle Noel's youngest son, Adrian, and lastly, his eldest son, Benji. It was bad enough that Uncle was here, but with Benji, I knew things were about to get worse. 

I raised a brow at the pout on Adrian's lips and the way he was actively trying to avoid my gaze.

I huffed, a smile tilting at the corner of my lips. "What is it this time, Addy?"

He glared at me. "How long did you intend to keep it from us, huh?"

I frowned. "Keep what?"

"He knows about the girl, brother," Victor said calmly.

Benji scoffed. "More like we all know about your surrogate breeder, Chris."