Page 45 of Anton

“Friend. I was here last night. I’m not sure if you remember me, but…” I point to the box on the passenger seat. “I just wanted to drop off some food for him.”

“He is not home.”

Shit.

“Well, maybe you can let me in really quick? Or I can give one of you the box, and you can drop it off for me.”

“No. He does not like people in his home. You go now.”

Crap.

“I was really hoping to surprise him. Please?” I press my palms together dramatically.

“No. Go.”

My shoulders sink. “I can tell him I snuck in on my own.”

His expression somehow turns even more unimpressed. “Are you crazy?”

Disappointment continues to grow heavier, but I’m not ready to give up yet. As a last-ditch effort, I grab one of the boxes of cookies and hold it out.

“Well…since you won’t let me in, I guess you guys can have these.”

He looks from me to the box. “You are bribing me with cookies?”

“Yes?”

For a second, he just stares at me. Then he takes the box, opens it with a suspicious look, and pops one into his mouth. Poor guy doesn’t know he’s about to taste magic.

He chews once, then twice, and glances down at the box as though it just personally offended him by being that good. A second later, he mutters something in Russian to the other two men and passes it over.

Apparently cookies are a universal language, because within seconds, all three of them are eating them. One of the men even reaches in to get a second.

“So…does this mean you’re going to let me pass, or…”

“On nas ubyot,” another guard says, then puts a third cookie in his mouth.

“If you bring more cookies, we let this slide,” the terrifying one says with a rough chuckle. “Will be worth dying for.”

They all laugh, and honestly, even I didn’t expect that.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t kill you boys for this.” I pause. “Probably.”

One of them lets out a snort as the gate slides aside. “Go.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll bring more for everyone next time.”

I drive through and follow the long road to the house, pulling into the driveway before grabbing the box from the passenger seat. I’m halfway to the front door when one of the guards stationed outside descends the steps toward me.

“Do you need help, miss?”

“Yes, please.”

He takes the box, and I follow him inside.

“Thank you. Just put it on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay.”