Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He settles himself on the sofa and watches me as I uncross my legs and rise. The way his eyes rove over my body and he takes everything in makes me feel like a queen. I stand tall, my shoulders back. I don’t miss the robe. It’s strange how comfortable it feels being naked when I know the only person who sees me loves my body.
I sit next to him and look at the tray he’s set on a small table. A few sandwiches wrapped in wax paper sit beside a small plate of cheese and crackers. Small, golden-brown pastry shells are nestled on a second plate, beside thick, pancake-like cakes.
“Wow, this looks amazing. And…interesting.” I give him a curious look.
“I’m not sure what you like to eat, and it would please me very much if my wife would join me in eating the traditional food of my homeland.”
Fortunately, I like a large variety of foods so I’m game to try Mother Russia’s spread. “Alright, then. Let’s give it a go. Can you tell me what they are?”
He points a fork to the pancake-like things first. “Syrniki. They’re like pancakes but made with cottage cheese. Breaded then fried.” Next, the golden pastries. “These are pirozhki. Pastries that can be savory or sweet, depending. These are savory, filled with potatoes, onions, and meat.”
“Interesting. Let’s go.”
I look to him and wait to see if I’ll be allowed to feed myself this time. He gives a subtle nod and looks pleased. I’m catching on.
I reach for the fork and cut a small wedge of the pancake first. It’s crispy on the outside with a crunchy breadcrumb edge, but the inside is mildly sweet and creamy. “Mmm. Delicious. Did you cook these? Right now?”
“I heated up the food I had staff leave us. I’m pleased you like it.”
The nod of approval and hint at a smile make my heart flip in my chest. The warning bells that were clanging to warn me of impending doom if I seek his approval are getting harder and harder to hear. I…I like pleasing him. It’s so rare that he isn’t scowling, I feel as if I’ve won a major battle. The words I’m pleased don’t often escape his lips.
Next up, I take a bite of the savory pirozhki. Flavors explode in my mouth. “Mmm,” I say involuntarily, reaching for another bite. “Mmm, these are delicious. I’ve never been much of a sweets person.”
“Me neither.” He joins me and we quickly polish off the food.
I sit back against the couch, my belly full. Finally, my eyes are sleepy again.
“Oh, God, I just realized I have my makeup—”
I reach for my face. No, wait. He helped me clean up last night, didn’t he?
Did he?
“Everything alright?”
“Did you…help me get ready for bed?”
With a shrug of his massive shoulder, he reaches for the last pirozhki and eats half of it in one enormous bite. “Of course. I told you I take good care of what’s mine.”
“True,” I say, changing the subject because this is dangerous territory for me.
Another casual shrug. He knows I didn’t miss his point.
I stifle a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”
And…naked. I can’t forget I’m absolutely buck naked. And I’m sitting next to a man twice my size who’s claimed me as his. My…husband.
He’s my husband.
It’s still so hard for me to swallow all this.
“We will go to bed. Tomorrow we have some work to do to prepare you to live here with me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mikhail
Aria adapts more easily to life here with me than I’d expect her to. I don’t blame her, when I think about it. She was on the run long enough, not even knowing where her next meal would come from, it only makes sense that she appreciates having a roof over her head.
She won’t like living with me, I can guarantee that. But I don’t need her to like it. I need her to stay.
It’s strange that when I look at her phone over the next few days, I notice no unusual behavior. She’s a hacker, after all. I half suspected she’d be downloading software, communicating with her friends, or at the very least researching and learning about my family and what she’s gotten into. She doesn’t so much as open up an app.
Does she have no friends?
I have a large volume of work to catch up on over the next few days, so I stay home and work from my at-home office while she gets accustomed to life here.
On the third day, she comes to my office wearing a pout.
“Alright, I’m bored out of my skull.” She crosses her arms on her chest and glares at me.
Ah. This is what I was waiting for. She can only behave for so long before her true personality will shine.
“Oh?” I ask. “Maybe download a game on that damn phone you hardly touch.”