Page 37 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Chase later whispered to me that Mik had sent flowers to the hospital in Ohio, and was Mik’s biggest fan until Mik decided that not only was the menu a disaster, so was the placement of the refrigerators in the massive industrial kitchen Chase had been meticulously putting together for months.

Suddenly, Chase’s mother was sick, too, and in my mind I didn’t see how we’d ever be serving a single meal or pouring a solitary glass of wine to any patrons any time this century. Mik never wavered in his decisions, and he seemed to have infinite money to throw at each new problem.

His perfectionism was kind of cute. Despite almost everyone secretly, or not-so-secretly, wanting to wring his neck, I could see how much he truly cared about making the place the best it could be. I felt bad for Andre having to fight for his menu once again, but as strong-willed as Mik was, he had to know what a prize his Michelin-starred chef was, and would have to back down.

The shelving issue I had worried about turned out to be fine, so I was coasting and glad that things were smooth with Mik at home. How could they not be when he was hardly there? I kept my head down, made sure my wines stayed at the proper temperature while searching for the rare vintages Mik wanted, enjoying the drama that had nothing to do with me for once.

Until it did. He called me into his office, and Andre sat at one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. I sat next to Andre, unable to gauge from his face what was about to happen. It wasn’t good. Andre had indeed caved, at least partially, and once again the two of them had agreed on a vastly different menu from the first one and the second.

“So now I have to pair new wines with these dishes,” I said.

“We can do test meals starting on Monday,” Andre said. “Do we have wait staff yet?”

“Do we?” I asked Mik. I had offered to do the interviews, and as time ticked away, I was getting more and more panicked about not having enough time to make sure they were properly acquainted with the vast wine list Mik was intent on stocking.

“I’m working on that,” Mik said. “You’ll have the best, don’t worry.”

I wished I wore a watch so I could hold it up and tap on it. Instead, I stared down at the new menu again and suddenly realized something. “There’s no rabbit dish,” I said. “You took away the rabbit dishes.”

“No one in America eats rabbit,” Mik said dismissively. “They keep them as pets.”

It looked like a vein might pop in Andre’s forehead as he kept his mouth resolutely shut.

“That’s simply not true,” I said on Andre’s behalf.

It was getting easier to fight with Mik now that I knew he took me seriously. The only problem was the arguments frequently led to both of us getting hot under the collar, which was a no-no. There was no danger of us lunging at each other across the desk with Andre present, so I laid out the reason for my dismay.

“You remember that extremely expensive Cabernet Franc?” I asked, thinking about that beautiful case of wine that had recently arrived. “We bought that solely for the rabbit dishes. I can’t really see it pairing as well with anything else on here, so now it’s going to rot.”

“Nonsense,” Mik said.

“If I’m finished here…” Andre got up and left, and Mik and I stared at one another.

Nonsense? So much for believing Mik had started taking me seriously. Yes, as much as I loved a good braised rabbit, I did often think of Thumper from Bambi a few bites in every time I ate it.

As we glared at one another, a slow smile started to curl his lips, and heat rose up my chest. Damn it. I shook my head. “At least bring it back as a special.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“That means you hope I’ll forget. I won’t.”

His smile was getting more and more sinister, and so damn sexy. I had been fighting for a month now to forget that perfect night of ours, and the only reason I succeeded was that he was out so often I never had the chance to give in.

And now that was irritating me, too. He was the worst, and it infuriated me that I found myself returning his damn smile.

“We can discuss it later,” he said, starting to rise, his eyes locked on me, roaming down my flushed chest and back up.

A loud knock sounded before his door swung open. His cousins, Nat and Mila, and his sister Sofiya tumbled in, dressed like they were straight out of a Beverly Hills advertisement for upscale leisure life.

“We’re taking your wife to lunch,” Nat said. “And shopping for a wedding present.”

Saved by the family members. Now I could get out of there before we were making out on the desk. “Oh, that’s so sweet, but there’s so much to do.”

“Go,” Mik said. “Have a good time. Weren’t you complaining about the espresso machine yesterday?”

“It’s settled,” Mila said. “First lunch, then gadget shopping.”

I managed to toss a glare at Mik as they led me away, and his smirk was infuriating. The three women were a little overwhelming at first as we piled into their limo, but it was clear they were trying to make me feel like one of them. Sofiya was especially sweet, linking arms with me as we waited to be seated at a bustling café on Melrose.