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Nicholas slammed his hand down on the counter. “You’re my wife. Not a prisoner.”
Sloane felt the heat in her face as she raised her voice for the first time. “Then treat me like it! I want to work here. You know I like to bake. I can actually do something with my day. With my life. And interact with actual humans instead of just staring at a blank wall. Jesus Christ. I felt almost normal today, for the first time in years.”
Nicholas blinked, and took a step back from the counter. He looked around as the bell behind him rang and another customer entered the store. He nodded once. “All right. We’ll talk more of this when I get home tonight.”
Still looking flustered, he ordered two beef and cabbage pirogis to go. Her hands shaking slightly from the encounter, she turned her back on her husband to prepare the food.
Babulya came out, no doubt having heard the entire interaction—Sloane had spent the morning learning all kinds of gossip from the woman who might look ancient but was still smart as a whip. Babulya rang up the order, showing Sloane how as she did. Sloane almost had the hang of the register. It too was ancient, but Babulya knew it, and Bo had found a way to make the credit card machine interface with it, so it still worked.
Sloane wrapped the sandwiches, mostly getting it right, shoved them in a to-go bag, and handed them over to Nicholas. His hand brushed hers as he took the bag and lingered there. She’d been staring fixedly at the counter and finally lifted her eyes to his when he didn’t immediately take the bag.
His gaze was that intense, burning look that had initially made her such a sucker all those weeks ago. Even now she had to fight her breath being taken away by it.
She released the bag and yanked her hand back, averting her gaze at the same time. “Have a lovely afternoon.” Her standard end-of-transaction reply. She’d only barely bit back the “sir” at the end. With her luck, he’d only take it as some kind of kinky power play and drag her upstairs to make good on it. She bit her lip at the thought. Was he the kind who’d enjoy spanking her as punishment for bratty behavior? Her eyes inadvertently sought his out again, only to find he was still standing just as close, gaze still locked on hers.
“We’ll talk more tonight,” was all he said, gaze still heavy.
And she wanted to stomp her feet in fury and go fuck herself with her best g-spot vibrator to get rid of the tension and frustration building up inside her. A girl didn’t just go from having multiple orgasms a day to nothing without going through withdrawal. That was all this was. She wasn’t actually…attracted to her asshole kidnapper of a husband! That would be ludicrous.
She breathed out a sigh of relief when he finally turned and the bell rang as he exited the shop.
“Nicholas is a good boy,” Babulya said as she took the rag from where Sloane had dropped it and continued wiping down the countertop. “Not like some of the other fucking assholes who work for Papa.”
That was the other thing about Babulya. The woman looked like a Russian Mother Teresa but damn, did she have a mouth on her.
Sloane rolled her eyes. “Can we not talk about him?”
“Oh, not talk about the man you married, who wants to give you babies if the way he looks at you is any indication? Why not?”
Sloane let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know, because he kidnapped me!”
Babulya scoffed. “Yes, yes, and he saved your life. That other man who would have taken you, you think he would let you sulk and treat you so kindly when you disobey as you do Nicholas?”
Sloane blinked. Babulya was definitely of this world. She spoke of it as if this was all… normal.
“But this wasn’t what I wanted!”
“Psh, what, you don’t want a man who looks at you like he wants to put babies inside you, and is one of the good ones? What did you want instead?”
“I— Well, I wanted—” Sloane broke off as the other customer, a woman who’d been wandering the shop finally approached and made her order.
She was glad to be distracted by ringing it up. She tried it herself this time and managed with Babulya only having to intervene once.
After the woman exited with her order, Babulya continued right where she’d left off. “Until you have babies you can work here. I need the help and you are good with the baking, something that cannot be said for everyone. It is a skill, you have to have the touch, and I am happy to say you have it. Even after you have the babies, you can continue working, there are plenty of women in the building who can look after little ones—I know a career is important to all you young modern women. So tell me, my little elephant—”
