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“No. Why?”
“Because of the dogs. They’re not really sociable, I’m afraid. It’s best not to wander out there until Drago takes you to meet them.”
An image of my dog Bonbon rises before my eyes. He passed away last year, and I’m the one to blame for that.
“Sure,” I mumble, even though I have no intention of meeting my husband’s dogs and reopening that wound.
When I finish breakfast, I carry my plate into the kitchen, almost colliding with one of the girls holding a stack of dirty dishes. Four other girls are running around the room, cutlery clinking against the china as everything is being loaded into the dishwashers. This must be the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen.
A long, wide island—piled high with used bowls, baking trays, and dishes—takes up most of the central part. An industrial fridge takes up space at the end of the counter and, based on its size, it can store food for a small army. Dozens of glasses, cups, and plates sit behind the glass doors of the white wood cupboards. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the sweet scent of baked apples coming from an enormous pot placed atop the stove. One of the guys I saw returning from the guard shift is reaching a spoon into the pot.
“Relja!” Keva yells, rushing toward him, and smacks his arm with a kitchen towel. “Don’t touch that!”
“I just wanted a taste. It smells amazing.”
Keva snatches the spoon out of his hand and scoops up something that looks like grated apples from the pot.
“Get lost.” She thrusts the spoon back into his hand, then turns toward the girl putting groceries into the fridge, shouting to her to make haste.
My eyes wander across the room to where Drago is leaning on the wall by the back door that leads to the yard. I thought he was still asleep. The guy who was at city hall with him is standing close by, and they seem to be talking about a shipment scheduled to arrive next weekend. I can’t hear everything they are saying from this distance, but something feels slightly off about their exchange. I just can’t pinpoint what it is. Instead of maintaining eye contact, Drago’s eyes are cast lower, as if he’s looking at the ground and not overly interested in what the other man is telling him. He grumbles a response I don’t catch and nods, then his gaze shifts to me.
Even though he is all the way on the other side of the room, it’s like I've been hit by a bolt of lightning when his eyes pin me with their power. I can still smell him on me even though I took a shower earlier. It’s as if, while spooning me, he somehow imprinted himself on my skin.
“We’ll speak later, Filip,” Drago says and heads toward me.
With each step he takes, my pulse skyrockets. When he finally stands before me, I can barely swallow over the cotton ball that has suddenly lodged in my throat, and my breaths become rapid and shallow.
He braces his hands on the kitchen island, caging me between his arms, and lowers his head. “Did you sleep well last night,mila?”
“Nope, not really. The mattress was too hard, and then an intruder snuck into my bed.” I smirk. Earlier, I googled the translation for “mila,” expecting to find a derogatory term of some kind, but instead, I was rather surprised to see that it’s a bit antiquated but still highly regarded Serbian endearment that means “darling”.
“I didn’t notice you complaining while you slept nuzzling my neck. Snoring.”
“What?! I do not snore.”
Drago leans in even further, his mouth just next to my ear. His breath teases my skin as he speaks.
“Yes, you do. It’s very subtle, like the purr of a kitten.” His lips press to the side of my neck, and a low rumbling sound sends a shiver down my spine. “Just like that, Sienna.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and close my eyes, trying to extinguish the urge to wrap my arms around him and pull him even closer. My body is somehow gravitating toward him, and I’m barely maintaining control.
“I wonder,” he continues, and the tiny hairs at the back of my neck rise. “Do you have claws, too?”
I shake my head and bite my cheek harder.
“Liar.” The word, delivered in his gravelly timbre, rolls over me.
A pleasant shiver runs down my spine, and I lean into him, wanting more of that sensation. Quickly though, I realize what I’ve done and pull away. He still has me caged between his body and the counter, so there’s only so far I can move.
“I promised some friends I’d meet them for lunch later today, and we’ll probably go to the mall after. Can someone drop me off?”
“Jovan will drive you.” He takes his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and lifts a credit card in front of my face. “For your shopping.”
“I have my own card,” I mumble.
“But I thought you married me for my money.”
Shit. I forgot about that. “Yup, that’s correct.” I grab the card out of his hand and grin. “Just a heads-up . . . you’ll probably regret marrying me.”
