My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3)

by Michaels, Megan

  “That’s a good idea. I can do that.” She meant it too. She’d eat any of those for lunch, and they would be better than a hot dog at the stand on 5th Ave, or one of the soft pretzels from Sal’s in the lobby.

  “What do you normally bring for lunch now?” He placed a small plate of cheese and crackers in front of her. “Eat all of it.”

  He returned to the chicken, taking the cover off the pan, the steam filling the little area in front of him. It smelled amazing, her stomach growling in response. “Keep talking, Lena.”

  “Caroline. Well, I don’t typically bring lunch. Sometimes, I get a sandwich or salad from the cafeteria.” She shrugged at him. “I’m not good at cooking. That’s why I’m hiring you, remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember. We’ll take care of that. From now on you bring lunch, or I bring you lunch. And on Mondays, you bring fresh produce for your office fridge.” He peeled the sweet potato, then sliced it along with the bell pepper. In another pan, he had olive oil and garlic sautéing while he opened a can of crushed tomatoes and another of tomato sauce. He dumped the contents of the cans into the pan, then stirred in some additional spices, turning her kitchen into what smelled like a gourmet restaurant.

  He grabbed the bottle of wine she had on the counter, adding some wine to the chicken and throwing in the sweet potatoes to let them cook. He covered the pan again to let it simmer, then added the pasta to the pot of boiling water.

  “Caro, where are your pasta bowls or plates?” He stood in front of a row of cupboards trying to guess which one had the bowls.

  “I’ll get them and set the table. You handle the stove. I’ll grab you the large pasta bowl for the table.”

  Just as she finished the table, he brought the meal out to the table. He’d put everything into it, along with a large, silver serving fork. The food smelled delicious.

  He placed a generous portion on a dinner plate. “This one is for Jason. You should bring it to him.”

  She’d forgotten that her bodyguard had hinted at wanting dinner tonight. She walked to the little office she had for him near the front door. “Jason, here’s your dinner — from Maxim.”

  “Thank you, Caroline. This looks amazing. Please tell me that you’re hiring him. He’ll be good for you.”

  She smiled back. Jason was more than just security or a driver. He had become a good friend, despite their occasional clashes. “Yes, I think I want him as a fitness trainer. He seems very good, doesn’t he?”

  “Very. And I get the impression he’ll help me to keep you in line.” He dipped his chin at her —another gentle rebuke.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about him. I’ll do better, I promise.” She cleared her throat and firmed her chin. “Now, eat. Let him know if you like it or not.” She turned on her heel before he could give her another sarcastic remark.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Maxim had placed her bowl at her place with a generous portion of the pasta — and served one even more generous for himself.

  “Dig in before it gets cold. I hope you like it. Sweet potatoes will be a nice touch to this plate. We like our potatoes in Russia. We add those or regular potatoes to many dishes. The sweet potatoes are better for you though.”

  He’d been correct. The sweet potatoes with the bell peppers and tomatoes was a perfect combination. They ate, stopping to sip wine and talking about different places of interest in Russia. He told her about the restaurant he was a chef at in Moscow, and the rather interesting personalities he encountered there.

  They both leaned back, enjoying each other’s company after dinner had ended, continuing to sip wine and talk.

  Jason walked into the kitchen, placing his plate in the sink. “Jesus, that was the best pasta I’ve had in ages. The sweet potatoes were such a nice touch. I’ve already told her that I hope you get the job. You’ll be a great asset her — and she needs all the guidance she can get. You definitely have my vote.”

  “Thanks for vote. Appreciate it.” He waved as Jason left the room. Turning his attention back to her, Maxim placed his wine glass on the table. “So, do I have job?”

  She felt her eyebrows raise. “You make it sound like you had to win me over. I thought you’d run screaming from here. If you’ll have me, you’re hired.”

  “It would be honor to help you with your goals. I think I’m going to like working for you. I typically work for two to three weeks, and then we have another serious discussion about job — how I’m doing, how things are going, whether it is working or no. I would like to do that with you too. Yes?”

  “Perfect.” But inside, it felt anything but perfect to her. She knew as a businesswoman that this made sense; it’s what she’d recommend if she were in his position. But, it made her feel like she was in a… trial phase. One screw up, and he’d be gone. How was it possible that she already felt this concerned about his approval? But he was steady, protective, domineering — and totally an alpha male. She liked having these strong men around her. It didn’t make sense though. As CEO, she should be trying to figure out who would be the next set of metaphorical balls she’d hang from her great room wall.

  Instead, she seemed to want nothing more than to be cloaked in security and safety, feeling the comforting male presence in her house — and if she had things her way —in her bed too. She thought it might be nice to see if Mr. Maxim Volkov would be as dominant in the sack as he was in all other areas of life.

  “Lena, you okay? You are flushed again.” His large hand covered hers on the table, his thumb lightly stroking her wrist.

  “It’s Caroline. And yes, I’m fine.” She pulled her hand from under his, the loss of his skin against hers as disconcerting as it was powerful. “I think a trial period will work just fine.”

  Chapter Five

  “Good morning, breakfast is ready. Coffee is in pot, help yourself.” Maxim smiled at the blur of a red dress that flew by him, Caroline quickly pouring coffee into her travel mug, opening the refrigerator and scanning the shelves inside.

  “Where the fuck is my coffee creamer?” She turned on him, looking just slightly less dangerous than a cornered rattlesnake.

  “Excuse me?” Maxim wasn’t used to someone speaking to him in that manner, and wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. If Viktoria had spoken this way, she’d be feeling his belt very quickly. And if Miss Caroleena didn’t calm down quickly, he’d lose his new job after he paddled her ass.

  “Don’t! No questions! I don’t have time. What the fuck did you do with my creamer?” She sneered at him, her eyes narrowed and sarcasm dripping from her words. “You know, creeeeeamerrrrr. They use it in cofffffeeee here. Do they use that word in Moscow?”

  He turned the flame down on the frying pan, and stalked toward her, plucking the rubber spatula from the countertop. Her eyes immediately went to his hand, and he nodded at her. “That’s right, I have implement in my hand. I do not plan on spanking you, but you never know. Will you change how you speak to me now?”

  Maxim stood nose-to-nose with her at that point, purposefully invading her personal space, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Yes, they say word ‘creamer’ in my country. But it is not usually said to me by someone as bratty and ill-behaved. Do you want to rephrase question?”

  Caroline definitely had an attitude this morning. She sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “Fine! I’m used to having creamer in my coffee, and apparently it’s been taken away.” With a peevish wave of her hand, she dismissed him. “Never mind! I’ll have my creamer when I get to work. I don’t have time for this shit!”

  She turned to storm out of the room, but she was about to find out that Maxim didn’t allow people to speak to him in such ways. He didn’t really care if they were his boss or a subordinate — no one spoke to him in the condescending and demeaning manner she had.

  “Nyet! Who do you think you are talking to? You do not dismiss me while I am speaking to you. You stay right here, and listen.” He gripped her arm tightly, easily holding her fast desp
ite her attempt to snatch it out his grasp.

  “You hired me, no?”

  “Yes, you know I did. Jesus Christ, I don’t have time for this shit! I’m late!” She tried again, unsuccessfully, to yank her arm away.

  Stubborn.

  “Stop! Since my job is to help you eat healthy, and help you tone your body, I cleaned your kitchen and made it healthy. One of things to go, is creamers.”

  She stilled, and he foolishly thought she had acquiesced. Instead, to his surprise, she let loose with a tirade unlike anything he’d ever heard a woman say before.

  “You did what? Are you fucking kidding me? I thought we’d discuss this shit first. I thought you’d gradually help me change to a healthy lifestyle. This fucking blows. I need my coffee and you, good sir, just fucked with the wrong person. Now, I’m late for work. Late for my meeting. And I get to do all of this without any fucking coffee. Thank you, genius!”

  She began to struggle against his grip again. However, her words and anger made it clear she was quite out of control. He picked her up and set her on the counter, as if she’d been nothing more than a forty pound child. The shock of his move stunned her into sitting still — and silent. Just as he planned.

  “You will not yell at me in such manner. I am your employee, I do what you ask me to do, no? But if you dare to shout at me in this way again, I will walk out the door and be on plane to Moscow. Am I clear?”

  The change in her was immediate. In a suddenly soft, quiet voice, unable to make eye contact with him, she said, “Yes... okay.”

  “Not yet. I am not done. This time you listen. You are late. Why are you late? Did you set alarm?”

  So, she responds to stern discipline and boundaries. Interesting.

  But her defiance returned in a heartbeat, and she rolled her eyes at him. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he grabbed her chin. “You are not to roll eyes at me again, yes?”

  “Okay.” She swallowed, watching him intently.

  “Alarm. Do you have one?” He backed up, giving her a little breathing room.

  “Yes, Sir. I just hit the snooze bar too many times.”

  “Lack of discipline. You should get up first time it goes off. If you cannot, it means you are tired. Then you go to sleep earlier. Problem solved. Then you are not yelling at me and not rushing to leave the house.”

  He ran his hand over his bald head. This damn woman had exasperated him too easily — and definitely too early in the day. “Now, next issue. Creamer. Creamer is full of sugar and corn syrup. It is not good for you. Period. Your coffee is caramel — if you can drink it black, it is best. If not, a little skim milk will taste fine with flavor.” He picked up the small pitcher next to the coffee pot. “Here, I pour it into coffee and you try it.”

  She started to roll her eyes again but caught herself.

  “Milaya devochka. You can learn. It is not respectful and very rude to roll eyes at people. Not a good habit for grown woman. At all.” He fixed her coffee, handing it to her.

  Sipping it, she smiled at him, and with blushed cheeks, she avoided eye contact. “It’s good, Maxim. It’s really good. I didn’t know flavored coffee would taste this good.”

  “And with no sugar. No corn syrup.” He stared at her for a while, clenching and unclenching his jaw. How did a woman this beautiful and this talented get under his skin so quickly? She wouldn’t have risen to the top without knowing how to handle people. Did she want to push his buttons? Thankfully, he wasn’t someone who lost his cool. But she had annoyed him — more than most had been able to do. Was it her rudeness and sarcasm? The outright disregard for his intentions?

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded small, delicate, her bright, brimming eyes signaling repentance.

  He put his finger under her chin. “Tell me what you are sorry about, Caro.”

  A tear spilled onto her cheek. Surprisingly, she didn’t correct him this time for calling her Caro. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, for not trusting you… and for being sarcastic and mean.”

  “You were mean and, yes, yelling. Why?”

  She swiped at a couple more tears. “I don’t know.”

  When he refused to answer her, looking upon her in silence, she took the hint and continued. “I guess I don’t like someone taking control. And I hate mornings, especially if I’m running late.”

  “Mmm. Looks like we need to make changes, if you agree. We can make mornings easier here. And I understand liking to be in charge, but you cannot always be in charge. You need to work on how to gracefully deal with this, yes?”

  “Yes. You’re right. “

  “We’ll deal with these as they come up. Changing your diet and making mornings more pleasant will be enough for now. Your attitude will evolve over time. Come. Let’s get you off the counter and off to work.”

  Just then, Jason walked into the room, grinning. “Amen to that, Maxim. You have no idea what Caroline puts us through most mornings. If you can get her to behave and be pleasant in the morning, we need to turn over the whole damned Turner Marketing company to you.”

  Caroline gave Jason a glare baleful enough to turn him to stone. “You know what? F—”

  “Uh-uh, Caroleena. Don’t do it. You’re better than this.” Maxim shook his head, wagging his finger at her.

  She gave Jason another pointed, cold glance, then smiled sweetly at Maxim. “You’re right, Maxim. He isn’t worth it. I am better than that.”

  “Milaya devochka.” He stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles. “Go get your bag and I’ll fix your breakfast to go. I’ll get some for you too, Jason, if you’d like.”

  “Jesus, that’d be awesome. I’m gonna like havin’ you around here. It’ll make tolerating Caroline worth it.” He stuck his tongue out at her as she passed by.

  Maxim laughed. “Don’t bother her! Caroleena is good girl — and good girls are always rewarded.”

  * * *

  After filling her dumpster with all the unhealthy food in her pantry, fridge and freezer, Maxim went to Turner Marketing to talk with a Miss Samantha, and glean some information about the habits and personality of Ms. Caroline Turner.

  After the morning they had, he’d be very interested in seeing how the rest of her day had gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much excitement before seven thirty. He shivered just thinking about it. He had to make some changes to her schedule so that they didn’t have to live that nightmare every day. He would, with her agreement, make sure she got to bed at an earlier time tonight — and then he’d set up a fail safe way to be sure she woke up on time.

  He’d be damned though if this became his new morning routine. He liked peace and quiet a little too much to tolerate that type of chaos on a daily basis. Now, he needed to see if she’d been a good girl once she’d arrived at work. As she’d grabbed her breakfast wrap from Maxim, she’d grumpily informed him that she’d be in meetings all morning. He knew he’d be able to speak freely with Samantha in the meantime.

  He exited the elevator to her floor — and there behind her desk, was Samantha, cheerful as ever. “Hi, Maxim! How are you today? It’s such a gorgeous day in New York City, isn’t it?

  “Good morning, Samantha. Yes, it is very nice spring day in big city.” He took his light overcoat off, draping it over his arm. “Are you well?”

  “You can call me, Sammi. Everyone does.” She was such an adorable, sweet girl. Positive, bubbly, and simply exuding kindness.

  “No. Such a beautiful name should not be ruined by becoming ‘Sammi.’ You deserve to be called by your given name.”

  She blushed and dropped her gaze, obviously not used to being complimented. “Even Caroline calls me ‘Sammi.’ It’s all right. Really.”

  “Does it bother you if I call you Samantha?” Her reaction confused him. In his mind, there was no comparison between the names Sammi and Samantha. For a woman, even nicknames needed to be feminine and pretty.

  “No-no. I like it. My family cal
ls me Samantha. It’s fine.”

  “It is settled then. Samantha it is. Now I came here today to ask you some questions. It helps me serve my clients better to know some of their likes and dislikes, habits, and different personality traits.” He gave her one of his winning smiles, hoping it convinced her to share some tidbits about her employer.

  Instead, she scrunched up her nose, furrowing her eyebrows. “I’m not sure Caroline would approve, Sir.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to ask personal questions. I just want to know things like: does she eat lunch in her office, or does she go out? Does she drink coffee?” He stopped, waving his hand toward the K-cup brewer on a nearby table. “If so, how does she like it? You know, things like that. As her fitness chef, I need to know the answer to these things, and I’ve learned that administrative assistants can answer the questions — without me having to bother Caroline during her busy schedule. Yes?”

  “Oh, that’s different — you should’ve said so. I can do that. I just don’t want to make her angry again today.” With a grimace, she glanced toward Caroline’s office, as if reliving the events of that morning. “It’s not been a good day around here so far.”

  “I’m sorry, zaychik. If it makes you feel better, it was a rough morning at the house too.” He reached out and patted her hand. “I’ll do my best to make sure mornings start better — for all of us.”

  “Zai-chick? What does that mean?” She perked to life, her eyes brightening with a full smile.

  “It means bunny, in Russian. It’s a term of endearment in my country. You like it?”

  “Yes! I love that! It sounds so cute.”

  He chuckled at the new excitement in her voice upon hearing the nickname. “All right. Zaychik it is. Now, she drank coffee at the house. So, I believe she drinks coffee here too. Yes?”