Seven years ago I insulted Kirill Safronov at graduation by refusing to be his girlfriend. What could a guy offer me whose mother is a cleaner?! I had a road—Harvard and great prospects… Back then, I didn’t think life would turn by one hundred and eighty degrees.
We met again. Only now Kirill is a confident bastard, a champion whose name the whole world knows, and I… instead of Harvard, I’m saving on everything to afford a new blouse from my favorite designer’s collection—two seasons ago.
I thought his feelings hadn’t gone away. But I was wrong. Twice. About him and about my own feelings.
I never want to see him again! Never! Despite the test that showed two lines a month after the reunion.