“We’re eating here?” I ask him as the car parks out front.
“Why not? The food is good, and I know you want to see Boris,” Ivan replies as he helps me out of the car. He’s not wrong.
Boris greets us with enthusiasm when we walk in. Apparently as a personal favor to Ivan, Boris has closed the restaurant for just the two of us. He won’t let us order from the menu, and instructs us to just sit down and enjoy what he brings.
Ivan sits next to me at the table he usually shares with his brothers when they come in for their weekly lunch. I find myself getting a little wistful when I think of how much fun I had working here. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back to it when there’s no longer a threat to deal with.
After lunch, Ivan takes me to his home in Beacon Hill for the afternoon. He shows me around, and then guides me to the library. The library is just as beautiful as the one in his home outside the city. It’s rich and warm, and has a pretty amazing collection of books from all genres, but nothing that’s really favored by a generally female population. I’m going to have to fix that.
Wait a minute.I’m going to have to fix that?Where did that come from? Will Ivan still want to keep me around when this is all over? I know he said earlier this morning that he had feelings for me, but even I know that can change.
“Earth to Emma,” I hear Ivan saying. “There you are. Where did you go?”
“Sorry. I just zoned out for a minute. I got carried away with all the books,” I explain while I gesture towards the shelves.
“Come sit with me.” Ivan takes my hand and guides me over to the couch in the library. Ivan leans back into the couch and drapes his arm across the back. I take my seat next to him, hands my lap, wringing my fingers together at what else he may have to say to me.
“Don’t be nervous. I promise I don’t bite.” Ivan smirks.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask nervously.
“I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you. It’s the only thing on my mind after my business,” he starts out. “I meant what I said that we wouldn’t do anything until you were ready.”
“I still don’t fully understand what you do. Where is this going?” I ask him.
Ivan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. He hands it to me, and then leans forward to place his forearms on his knees.
“What’s this?” I ask him.
“I went to the doctor for a full work up. These are the results,” he says, pointing to the sheet of paper in my hand.
“Oh!” I say as my brain catches up to what Ivan is implying. It’s a grand gesture that I wasn’t expecting, and the fact he wants to give another layer of reassurance for when I’m ready makes me smile. I take his face in my hands to kiss him. Ivan stands up, pulling me with him, and wraps his arms around me while he returns the kiss.
He places a small kiss right below my earlobe. “It’s time to go to dinner.” Ivan helps me into my coat before walking me to the car and holding the door open. We hold hands in the backseat all the way to the restaurant.
Imagine my surprise when we pull up to a building that is most definitely not a restaurant. It looks more like a store in a pretty building tucked in between a few other things.
“I thought we were going to eat,” I said as I got out of the car.
“We are.” Ivan smiles at me. “I’ve reserved us a private cooking lesson.” Ilya holds the door open for us to walk through.
“Aren’t cooking classes usually done with other couples?” I ask, looking up at him with confusion.
“Not tonight. One of the instructors here owes me a favor, so I called it in,” Ivan says like it’s not a big deal.
“Mr. Kiselyov, Ms. Murphy, welcome to our kitchen.” A man wearing chef’s whites steps into the kitchen classroom. “I’m Chef Brian, and I’ll be taking you through creating our menu this evening.”
Ivan and I put on aprons while the chef pours us each a glass of wine.
“I always cook with wine,” Chef Brian say as he pours. “On occasion, I even put it in the food.” That gets a laugh out of both of us. “Tonight, it will not be going in the food, but it will still be enjoyed.”
“Sounds good,” I say as I take a sip. It’s good wine, and probably expensive. It tastes like something I’d never be able to afford on a waitress’s salary.
Ivan and I spend the next three hours making the most incredible Italian dinner. There’s pasta and chicken with fresh veggies, a salad with tomatoes that made my mouth water, and a tiramisu for dessert. Naturally, there’s more wine. I wonder how Ivan found out that tiramisu is my favorite dessert.
“This is amazing, Ivan. Thank you,” I tell him as I savor the tiramisu.
”It’s worth it to see a smile on your face,” he responds as he sips his wine. I feel heat rising in my cheeks in addition to the heat pooling in my belly.
