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This doesn’t mean we’re going to leave the house defenseless. Even though Katerina and I will be attending the gala with an army of men, enough of them will remain at my residence to hold down the fort there. I’ve also put extra men on the watch at Stefanov’s, Pavlov’s, and Besov’s dwellings. If they move so much as a meter, I’ll know about it.
Katerina is surprisingly accommodating about all the precautions. I expected her to complain and sulk about her loss of freedom, but she bravely carries the undeserved burden I’ve dumped on her shoulders. In turn, I bend over backward to fulfill her whims and wishes, even if it goes against every instinct I possess. Letting her play nurse to my men isn’t easy for me. I explained to her in detail why it upsets me, but she makes an effort not to worry every time I put a foot outside the house—or she’s simply not showing how much the concern affects her—and therefore I try to keep my jealousy in check.
The men flock to the house as if Katyusha lives there for their fucking benefit. Igor and Leonid transformed one of the lounges into a sick bay complete with an examination bed and medical equipment. The men come to her with everything from sprained ankles to headaches. Since my kiska seems to be genuinely happy to help and less stressed when she’s keeping busy, I grind my teeth and bear the wimps’ presence in the house. They never complained about a cut on a finger before. I suppose the novelty of Katerina’s presence has yet to wear off.
I’ve never compromised for anyone before, but Katerina is a first for me in many aspects. Besides, the reward for my suffering is most effective. She’s been more open with me during the last few days, her advances both sweet and hot.
I’ll do anything if it means she’ll give me access to her body and her heart.
When I come home from the office on Friday evening, I go straight to the homemade clinic. The room smells of disinfectant as I open the door. It’s empty. For once, there’s no patient with a splinter in his skin to be pampered.
Urgency drives my steps as I walk through the house. I’m eager to see her. I left while she was still sleeping this morning and didn’t get a chance to kiss her goodbye. Her laughter comes from the end of the hallway, the sound beautiful and clear. Tima says something in his baritone that makes her laugh more.
I follow the sound of their banter to the kitchen. Tima is scrubbing pots in the sink, and Katerina is leaning with her backside against the table. She’s wearing a tight-fitting sweater and a skirt that hugs her thighs. Paired with high-heeled boots, the outfit looks sexy as hell. She’s been mostly wearing dresses or skirts for the past week, and the reason heats my veins and sends blood to my groin.
“Alex,” she says, offering me a smile. “Tima was telling me about some of your less appetizing local dishes.”
Tima acknowledges me with a nod from over his shoulder. Despite the fact that I’m jealous of the attention Katerina gives him, I’m grateful to him for keeping her company when I’m working late. He doesn’t have to hang around in the kitchen. It’s long after his usual sign-off time.
Advancing toward her, I take in her shapely form. “Is that so?”
“Keeshka,” she says with an adorable accent, wrinkling her nose. “Intestines stuffed with meat and meal? Or pig blood?” She shivers. “He told me it’s one of your favorites.”
“I’m an adventurous eater,” I say, stopping short of her.
The huskiness of my voice must betray my lust because her throat bobs with a soundless swallow as she stares up at me.
Tima dries his hands on a dishcloth. “I’m done for the evening unless you need me for anything else?”
I don’t break eye contact with Katerina. “We’re good.”
“Good night then,” he calls on his way to the door.
It slams behind him with a bang, enclosing us in silence.
“How was your day?” she asks after a beat, her voice a little hoarse.
“Good.” I lean my palms on either side of her body on the tabletop. “Yours?”
She wets her lips. “The usual.”
I narrow my eyes at the act. Innocent or not, it makes me want to kiss her. “I hope you didn’t overexert yourself.”
“It will take more than that,” she says, ducking underneath my arm and escaping to the other side of the room.
Her walk is unhurried, but she’s running all the same. On top of sensing my desire, she must also know intuitively that I have special plans for her tonight.
Going on tiptoes, she opens the overhead cupboard. “I was going to make tea. Would you like some?”
Smiling inwardly at her futile diversion attempt, I stalk to my innocent little prey. She stretches to grab hold of the tin of tea. I reach over her and take the tin, making a mental note to tell Tima to put the refreshments on a lower shelf. The action puts our bodies together. Her back presses against my chest and her buttocks against my thighs. I put the tea aside and lean closer, capturing her between the counter and my body.
