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“You know, he has housekeeper.” The heavily accented voice sounded suddenly from behind me, making my entire body shoot up off the floor with a choked gasp. “You put her out of job, she no longer makes money. She no longer makes money; you make her angry.”
Of course, it was Shura. He grinned from the doorway before swaggering through the kitchen, his jeweled teeth flashing in the fluorescent lighting.
“Your husband, he is not here?” His piercing blue eyes sharpened as he stared at me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“No? Aren’t you supposed to know where he is?” I bit back ineloquently, trying to calm my thumping heart and stuttered breath as I allowed the washing machine lid to slam to a close. I was uncomfortably reminded of having to go to him the other night through fear Dmitry had gone missing.
As if Shura could see straight through my skull and into my thoughts, he huffed a sharp exhalation of air that was almost a dismissive whistle. “Nyet, girl, do not make that face. Dmitry is fine. Probably out busting heads. I wait outside, so as not to raise suspicion of your fidelity, no?” His eyes touched briefly on the robe I was in, but only the very tops of my shoulders, his grin breaking out at my red-flushed face.
“That’s really not necessary, I—” My voice was haughty, raised an octave in my discomfort, but he dismissed it all with a deep belly laugh, heaving his considerable girth around and turning down the hallway as if I hadn’t even been speaking.
“I kid! Manya, I kid! You and Dmitry, both so uptight,” he chuckled, continuing down the hallway even as I followed after him.
He exited out of the front door with a brief wave of his hand over his shoulder. I stared at the closed door for longer than was probably necessary, my heartbeat still unsteady.
“Coffee . . . avocado toast, and no more interrupting byki,” I mumbled to myself. I turned back to the kitchen, knotting the silk robe more tightly around my waist as I headed to follow my own advice.
