She turns and her eyes drop to my bloody knuckles and shirt. For a split second I see something flicker across her face. Worry and then relief when she realizes none of the blood is mine.
“You can help by getting cleaned up,” she says, turning back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
I couldn’t clean up any faster.
I took the quickest shower of my life, threw on a button-down and trousers, and headed downstairs, still damp at the collar.
She made dinner. Calina Morozova, the woman I forced into my house, is in my kitchen cooking. The thought alone has me equal parts suspicious and ridiculously curious to taste whatever she made.
When I reach the dining room, I stop short.
Dmitri and Viktor are already there. Dmitri is laughing at something she said while helping set the table, placing plates with that easy charm of his.
Viktor is actually carrying a bowl, looking less murderous than usual. The three of them look… comfortable.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” I growl.
Calina turns toward me quickly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I asked them to stay for dinner.”
Dmitri grins, completely unbothered. “I’m starving, boss. We’ve been waiting for you, please can we eat now?”
Viktor snorts. “You’re always starving.”
I narrow my eyes at all of them, but especially at Dmitri, who is standing far too close to her for my liking. Before I can tell them to leave, Calina gives me a look that saysdon’t you dare.
We sit down.
The moment I take the first bite of the pelmeni, I freeze.
It’s… incredible. The dough is perfectly thin, the filling savory and seasoned just right, bursting with flavor.
For a second, I’m transported, not to some fancy restaurant, but to a memory I rarely let myself touch.
A rare good day in the orphanage when one of the older cooks made something similar with whatever scraps they had. Warmth. Full belly. The illusion of care.
I don’t speak for a long moment. I just eat.
Conversation flows, mostly between Calina, and Dmitri, while Viktor and I eat in silence.
I can’t stop looking at her.
The way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Every small movement pulls my attention like a magnet.
I take another bite, watching her across the table, wondering how the hell this woman has managed to turn my entire world upside down in just a few days.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Calina
When I decided to cook tonight, I wasn’t thinking about Maxim’s reaction at all.
I know my family loves my cooking. They always praised me, asked for seconds, teased me about opening a restaurant one day.
But as I watched Maxim take his first bite of the pelmeni across the table, I realized I was holding my breath, waiting.
When his eyes closed for a brief second and he gave a low, satisfied hum, something warm and unexpected fluttered in my chest.
He liked it. He really liked it. And for some stupid reason, that made me happy.
