Page 8 of Fergus

“Separately or together?”

“Either.”

“Didn’t Yegorov help to pay your way through university?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He never offered, and I never asked.”

“Your mother?—”

“Never asked or offered either. I was an adult, Fergus,” she defended when she saw the disgust in his expression. “By that time, I was more than capable of looking after myself.”

“That isn’t the point?—”

“It’s the only one that matters,” Thea insisted.

Fergus had never thought Jessica was a particularly good mother, indicated by the fact that she had left Thea home alone that evening when Jessica had received the call to go to the hospital. Thea had only been fourteen at the time, too young, in Fergus’s opinion, to be left at home on her own all evening in the middle of London.

It didn’t sound as if Jessica’s maternal leanings had improved much after that, and from the little Thea had said, it seemed that when Jessica married Yegorov, she had mostly abandoned her maternal role altogether. Possibly because, as had been the case when she dated Fergus in the past, she hadn’t wanted Andrei’s friends to know she had a grown-up daughter.

“My mother and I didn’t see each other often after she married Andrei,” Thea said, confirming that theory. “I was already working my way through university, and I preferred to carry on paying my own way rather than asking for any financial help. I knew how Andrei came by his money, and I’m pretty sure there would have been a price to pay on my part if I’d asked for any financial help from him. My mother and I would meet for lunch on birthdays and before Christmas, but otherwise, our lives were too different. We simply had nothing in common other than what was left of our familial connection.” She grimaced. “I’ve seen more of Lev the past four months than I saw of his father in the three years he was married to my mother.”

“Because Lev wants to marry you.” Fergus couldn’t quite hide the distaste he felt thinking of this beautiful young woman married to that old lecher. The Yegorovs, senior and junior, were both known for their drinking and womanizing.

The thought of that lecherous old bastard touching Thea, let alone caressing and making love to the bottom Fergus now coveted, made him feel like hitting something. Preferably Yegorov.

“Lev always wants what he can’t easily have.” Again, Thea confirmed some of what Fergus had been thinking.

“And this time, he wants you.”

“Yes.”

“You would be marrying a billionaire,” he reminded.

She lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “Exactly what are you implying?”

They both knew what he was implying!

“My name is Thea, not Jessica,” she snapped before he could answer her. “I would never use deception to try to blackmail someone into marrying me. Considering our history, I would certainly never try to do something so awful to you. Besides,” she added mockingly, “as you’ve already pointed out, I already have one billionaire who wants to marry me, so I would have no reason to use subterfuge on another one.”

Fergus scowled. “I would like to think that there are noticeable differences between myself and Lev Yegorov.” Such as their almost twenty-year difference in age. Their personalities. The fact that Fergus kept his body in trim condition and Levlookedas if he overindulged on the vodka and donuts Thea had said he did.

Fergus was aware that a part of him was judging the daughter by the mother’s actions. But knowing Jessica Morgan, however briefly, had been a mistake he and his wallet had almost paid dearly for. Was it any wonder he remained wary about her daughter’s intentions now in seeking him out?

Although that fifty million pounds Thea had inherited from her mother and her aversion to marrying the very wealthy Lev Yegorov were both pretty good indications that Thea really wasn’t a fortune hunter like her mother.

That she had continued to work, even after inheriting all that money, was also indicative of Thea’s true nature.

As was the fact she had offered to return that fifty million pounds to Levwithouta marriage needing to take place. In fact, she had made it perfectly clear how much she would prefer that it didn’t.

“What kind of work do you do?” Fergus prompted curiously.

She blinked at this sudden change of subject. “I’m a teacher.”

“Of what?”

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