by Nicole Fox
Her face is still bruised, and I can’t wait for the reminder of our experience to be gone from her skin. My own wounds will leave scars, but Eve will carry her scars internally.
I’ve seen them show up already.
The way she gets up in the middle of the night to stand outside Milaya’s door. The way she checks the security system again and again and again before we go to bed.
Hopefully, with time, those scars will fade, too.
I limp over to her, a hand pressed to her lower back. “Yes, I’m listening.”
“Good,” she says, dropping a hunk of butter in the cast iron skillet. “Because this is the important part.”
“I thought cooking the steaks was the important part,” I say. “It is called steak au poivre, after all.”
“Yes, but a badly made pan sauce can ruin the entire dish,” she says. “Now, pay attention.”
I grab her waist and press my body against her backside, nuzzling into her neck. “I love it when you boss me around.”
Eve circles her hips, grinding back into me, and then bangs her spoon against the pan loudly. “Eyes forward.”
I stand to attention, grinning. “Yes, ma’am.”
I watch and listen as she drops shallots into the butter, letting them brown, and then adds a broth.
“That comes to a simmer,” she says, turning away from the stove to grab something on the counter.
When she is mid-reach, I wrap my arm around her middle, spin her into me, and kiss her.
“Luka,” she moans against my mouth. She is doing her best to sound annoyed, but her hands are gripping the backs of my arms, holding me against her. “I’m in the middle of things here.”
“The soup needs to simmer,” I say, waving a hand towards the stove.
“The broth,” she corrects, rolling her eyes. “Clearly, someone wasn’t paying attention.”
I kiss her again, nibbling on her lower lip. “Clearly, I just need a less distracting teacher.”
When I finally let her go, she grabs a bottle of Cognac from the bar and adds it to the pan, stirring as it begins to bubble and reduce.
Milaya screeches happily from her high chair, and I walk over to her, grabbing the large wooden spoon she was playing with.
“I believe you dropped this, madam,” I say in my worst British accent.
As soon as I hand her the spoon, she screeches and throws it again, sending it skittering under the sink.
“She’s hungry,” Eve says. “I’ll feed her as soon as I’m done with dinner.”
“She could have played in the other room while we cooked,” I say.
Eve looks at me from the corner of her eye before turning her attention back to the pan. “I know. I didn’t mind, either way.”
I limp back over to her and kiss her cheek. “You flinched when I suggested it.”
One by one, she grabs the steaks and places them in the sauce, flipping them over to ensure they are all evenly coated and cooked through.
“I’ll get better,” she says softly. “It will just take time.”
“Is it the security system?” I ask. “The company told me it is the highest quality package they offer, but I can find another company. We can get second and third opinions.”
“No, it’s fine,” she says. “Though, I have been thinking about a dog.”
“A dog?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “I never took us for dog people.”
“Me neither,” she admits. “But since … everything. I don’t know. I think it could be nice to have a dog around. Something to bark at strange noises and scare people away.”
“And drool on our furniture and tear up our leather shoes and knock Milaya over when she learns to walk,” I finish, counting off my reasons one by one.
“We’ll make sure it is friendly and good with kids,” Eve says.
“That only solves one of the three issues I brought up.”
She turns, stretches up on her toes, and kisses me with her entire body.
Her chest arches into me, her hips circle against mine, and she drags her fingernails through my hair and down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. When she pulls away, she smiles up at me.
“How about that?” she asks. “Did that solve your other two issues?”
In a daze, I nod. “I can buy new shoes and furniture.”
She laughs, and I kiss her again, picking her up for a second until she kicks in protest. “You shouldn’t be picking me up on your bad leg. It is never going to heal if you keep that up. Put me down, mister.”
I slap her butt as she walks back to the stove. “Worth it.”
Eve carries out a board of steaks in a row, and I grab Milaya. The doctor told me I couldn’t carry anything heavier than our daughter for a few days, so I have to leave the heavy lifting to Eve.
In the dining room, Eve is swatting Grigory’s hand, telling him to keep away from the steak until everyone has been served. And the women from the auction, plus Kari, are grouped together at the far end of the table, looking nervous but happy.
“Let me get the sauce and potatoes before these men go rabid,” Eve teases.
As she passes me to go back into the kitchen, I see her luminous smile. The one she saves for when she is truly happy.
It is the same smile she wore the day she got the phone call from Kari.
After sending the women away from the inn, Eve kicked herself for not finding a way to contact them. She gave Kari her number, but she couldn’t reach out to any of them or find out where they were. She insisted she was fine, but I could tell she worried.
When Kari called last night, Eve almost cried with relief. She invited all of the women over for dinner, as well as Grigory, Vito, and a few of the other Bratva members who helped with the escape.
“Everything looks delicious,” Maddie says, wafting some of the steam from the steak in her direction.
Vito is sitting next to her, staring at Maddie like I’ve never seen him stare at anyone. “It does,” he agrees, though I’m not certain he is talking about the steak.
Eve tells everyone I helped her cook the meal even though it isn’t remotely true. Unless standing around and lusting after her while she cooked counts as helping, in which case, I was essential to the operation.
“I’m surprised you are cooking, let alone standing up,” Grigory says. “How is your leg?”
“Thanks to Kari, it’s great,” I say. When I turn to her, she is blushing a deep shade of red that makes her blonde hair look even paler. “Have you thought about my offer?”
If possible, her face goes even redder. “I have.”
“What offer?” Grigory asks.
“I thought we could use an emergency surgeon. Someone who will work for us and keep us all out of the emergency room.”
“That would be a great idea,” Vito says. “Maybe Maddie could help her.”
Maddie frowns. “I don’t know anything about surgery.”
Vito shrugs, looking disappointed.
“Well?” I ask, turning back to Kari. “What do you say?”
Eve leans forward, biting her lower lip. “It would be nice to have another woman around.”
Kari smiles warmly at Eve and then turns back to me, looking less certain. “I need more time to think about it. I’m not sure yet.”
“Of course,” I say. “Take your time.”
It is a good offer. One of the best Kari is going to get without going back to school. And according to Eve, Kari isn’t sure she can handle school. Since working for the Cartel for so many years, she is nervous around large groups of people, which is understandable.
“Well, we would be glad to have you,” Grigory says, leaning back in his chair to catch Kari’s eye.
Her cheeks flush again, and she quickly looks down at her plate, but I see the smile on her face. I think everyone does.
Eve nudges me in the side, and I nod.
Kari might be smitten.
By the puff of Grigory’s chest, he might be smitten, too.
>
After dinner, we leave the maids to clean up and move into the sitting room.
The fire is lit and the curtains are drawn, giving the entire affair a very cozy, personal touch.
It was planned that way on purpose. Eve and I wanted to arrange this night to give everyone—ourselves included—a fresh start.
Once everybody is seated, Eve nods at me, and I stand and lift my glass.
“Thank you all for coming over tonight. It feels good to be with friends and family after a rather difficult couple weeks.”
Grigory raises his glass and then takes a large drink. “That’s an understatement.”
“We lost good men. Loyal men. So tonight, we honor those men who fought to free me and my wife and my child.”
“And me,” Kari says softly.
“Me, too,” Maddie says.
The other three women murmur in agreement and nod along.
“And all of you, too,” I agree.
Everyone stops and takes a drink, but then Eve stands up next to me, her glass raised. “And I’d also like to honor the woman who was killed during the auction. I didn’t know her name, but—”
“Angela,” Kari says. “Her name was Angela.”
I see Eve’s eyes go glassy, and she lifts her glass. “To Angela.”
Everyone drinks again.
Eve stretches up to whisper in my ear. “Do you mind if I—”
I step back and gesture for her to have the floor. My leg needs a rest, anyway. Standing for even a few minutes at a time makes my muscles spasm.
“I don’t want to bring down the mood of the night,” Eve says. “But I do want to say thank you for everyone who came to help us. I’m not sure where my family would be tonight if it wasn’t for all of you.”
We both look to Milaya, who is lying on a soft blanket on the floor, batting at stuffed fish that are hanging from a mobile above her.
“Please don’t thank us anymore,” Grigory says. “You are our leaders. Of course we came for you.”
Eve’s lips pinch together nervously, and she looks back at me, trying to gauge my reaction.
Leaders. Plural.
As in, Eve and myself. Together.
In another lifetime, that might have bothered me. Thinking that I don’t have the full control of my men. Thinking that I, in any way, had to share their respect, would have bothered me.
But now, I feel nothing but pride.
Eve is strong and respected. More than just my wife, my men see her as my equal. They see her as their leader. And I get to claim her as mine.
My wife, my love. My queen.
I can only see their respect for her as a compliment. As their blessing on us and our marriage and our leadership over the Bratva.
I reach out and grab Eve’s hand, kissing her knuckles. Then, I turn to Grigory. “You won’t hear another bit of gratitude from either of us on the subject.”
He lifts his glass again, downing the second half of it. Judging by the color in his face, that was not his first.
“I’m grateful to all of you for getting me out,” Eve says, winking at Grigory when he rolls his eyes. “But I can’t push aside the guilt I feel that we are all here and others aren’t.”
Eve talked to me about this last night when we were lying in bed. I knew the fact that so many of the women had been given over to bidders before we could save them weighed heavily on her. And I also knew there would be no way to deter her once she set her mind to it. So, I am now behind her one hundred percent.
She turns towards Kari and Maddie and the other women. “I am going to keep my job as head chef at Fleurs Vingt, but I’m going to spend as much of my time as I can tracking down the women who were sold and helping them get their freedom back.”
“And I told Eve she would have access to any service the Bratva offered that could help,” I say.
Grigory and the other members nod in solidarity. “Of course.”
“You don’t have to help me,” Eve says to the women. “But since I think this journey will be so important in my own healing, I thought I would offer you the opportunity to help as well.”
“Of course,” Kari says, her eyes going glassy with tears. “I would love nothing more than to help.”
“Me too,” Maddie says. Then, she bites her lip. “I just—I’m not sure I can face the Cartel members again.”
Her lip begins to tremble, and Vito reaches out to lay a meaty hand on her knee.
Maddie doesn’t bat him away instantly, which he seems to take as a good sign, his mouth twitching up in a half smile.
Eve sets her glass on the mantle and moves over towards where the women are grouped on the end of the couch. The part of the evening where we formally address the guests is clearly over.
I keep my distance while she comforts Maddie and talks through her plan. In fact, it is the furthest apart Eve and I have been in almost three days.
Since getting home, we have stayed close to one another. When we sit on the couch, she sits close enough that her leg brushes against mine. While she cooks, I am within arm’s reach, ready to hug her and kiss her between stages in the recipe. After being forced apart so much at the auction, we can’t seem to get enough of having full access to one another.
Milaya is still batting happily at her toys, and I’m watching her when Grigory lifts himself out of his chair and stumbles over to me.
The man is large and can hold his drink, but he is clearly pushing his limits tonight.
“You know,” he slurs, dropping down on the hearth next to me. “When you first married Eve, I wasn’t certain you were making the right choice. I mean, she is beautiful—”
He lifts his hand in surrender when my attention snaps to him, eyes narrowed.
“She is beautiful, but she was from an enemy family,” he continues. “A lot of us thought it would cause way more trouble than it is worth. To be fair, for a minute there it did cause a lot of trouble.”
“More than it was worth?” I ask.
Grigory smiles and shakes his head. “No, definitely not. We like Eve.”
“She’ll be glad to hear that,” I say.
“I mean it. We all like her. Even more now that she has shown us her true colors.” Grigory tips back his drink, and I consider reaching out and stopping him, but I don’t. He can sleep in the guest room if need be. Tonight is a celebration. A time for everyone to relax, Grigory included. “Eve is tough. And kind. She cares about people.”
“She cares about all of you,” I tell him.
“And we care about her. Maybe even more than we care about you.”
He nudges me in the side playfully, and I nudge him right back even harder. “I can see why you married her. You obviously saw something in her from the beginning that we didn’t.”
Milaya begins to fuss, kicking her little legs, and I reach down and pick her up, balancing her on my good leg.
“I don’t think I knew how great Eve was when I married her,” I admit. “But marrying Eve is definitely the best decision I ever made.”
From across the room, Eve sees me with Milaya and grins. It lights up her entire face, as though a lamp has been turned on inside her eyes, and I feel the certainty of my statement in my heart.
Yes, Eve is the best decision I have ever made.
THE END
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Sneak Preview (Knocked Up by the Mob Boss)
Keep reading for a sneak preview of KNOCKED UP BY THE MOB BOSS by Nicole Fox.
They’re coming to take her baby. They’ll have to kill me first.
She’s an innocent maid.
I’m a ruthless Bratva boss.
She says she wants nothing to do with me.
But in my world, when I want something, I take it.
And I want her.
<
br /> The problem is, Zoya is hiding a terrible secret:
A baby in her womb that was never meant to be.
And I’m not the only one who knows.
Our enemies are coming.
To hurt her.
To ruin me.
What they don’t know is this:
I’ve found what I want in this world.
And they’ll have to kill me to take it.
Aleksandr
I’ve been in the office for hours. Long enough that my eyes are burning, and I’m not sure what time it is. I could stand up and open the blinds covering the window, but part of me doesn’t want to know. If the sun has set, then I’ve been here too long. If the street below is emptied of people, then I’ve been here way too long. If the sun is already coming up, I’ll need more coffee to make it through another day.
“What in the hell are you still doing here?”
The sound of another human jolts me from my work, and I push back from the desk, my wheels squealing, prepared to fight off the intruder. It takes me an exhausted second to recognize my own face, standing in the doorway
My twin brother.
“It’s after midnight,” Mikhail says, checking his wrist, though he doesn’t have a watch on. He pushes the door closed and drops down into the leather chair across from my desk. The focused light of my desk lamp means that he is half-hidden in shadow, but even in the dark, I can see how worn he looks.
“You came here looking for me. Why do you sound so surprised to have found me?”
Mikhail lets out a humorless chuckle. “Because I hoped I was wrong about you, but apparently your life is just as sorry as I thought.”
He is only half-joking, and we both know it. It isn’t healthy, how much energy I devote to the family business, but it is all I know. It is all I’ve ever known. From the moment I was born, there were expectations, and I’ve always been willing to kill myself to meet them. Not just to please my father and my mother—though that is part of it. Mostly, it is for me. Who am I if I can’t live up to my family legacy?