Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
The way he said my name made something in me tighten. “Yes?”
“Naden' platye segodnya vecherom. Bez trusov.”
I exhaled, loving the sound of his Russian, his voice deep and gruff. I didn't understand him, but that didn’t matter. I could have come just from hearing him talk to me.
“Wear a dress tonight. No panties.”
The line went dead after that, leaving me standing in the quiet kitchen, but the silence didn’t feel the same as it had before. I lowered the phone slowly and set it on the counter, my hand lingering on it for a second before I moved.
It was barely after lunch, but I started to gather what I needed without hesitation, pulling ingredients from the fridge for the osso buco, setting everything out in front of me. The familiar rhythm of cooking came back easily. I wanted to make this dinner special. I wanted to take my time in hopes I could see that smile on Alexei’s face once more.
Once I had everything laid out, I smiled as I decided to make homemade bread for dinner. As I started baking and as everything came together, this place started to feel like a home… even if just for right now.
By the time the bread was baking and the osso buco was simmering, filling the air with rich, savory scents, I realized something had shifted without me noticing. I wasn’t just trying to adjust to his world anymore. I was starting to find my place in it.
And when he walked through that door tonight, I wanted him to feel it.
Chapter Fifteen
Alexei
Iwalked through the front door and the aroma of dinner hit me like a drug. The scents of savory meat, fresh herbs, and homemade bread filled the entire lower level of the estate.
My wife had cooked for me. The thought made my cock harden and press against my zipper. No one had ever done that in this house. No one had ever dared to claim any part of my space like that, not unless they were paid help.
Lucia. She was becoming something dangerous to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop wanting to claim every single part of her. Lucia was the only one who made me feel human for the first time in my life.
I’d sent home all staff that worked within the estate but kept the armed guards stationed at every exterior entrance and exit. I wanted tonight to just be the two of us.
I followed the smell into the dining room and stopped, seeing her at the stove in a little dress and white apron tied around her waist. I drank in the sight of her.
She had set the small table adjacent to the island for two, candles lit, wine poured, and everything arranged with care. She looked over her shoulder when she heard me, and the tentative smile on her face made something volatile and hungry uncoil low in my gut.
“You really did cook for me,” I said, my voice low and rough as I crossed the room.
She nodded, cheeks flushing. “Of course. I wanted to do something for you.”
“It smells delicious.” I grabbed her by the waist, pulled her against me, and kissed her like I was claiming territory. Hard, deep, and possessive, my tongue fucked her mouth the way I planned to fuck her pussy later. When I pulled back, she was breathing shakily, lips swollen and red.
The need I felt for Lucia made me feel even more crazed than normal.
I growled against her throat, teeth scraping her skin. “Every day with you makes it harder to remember this was ever just an arrangement, Lucia.” Before I pulled away to sit for our dinner, I crushed my lips to Lucia’s, giving her a long, deep kiss, a pre-thank you for what I was about to eat.
The meal was perfect. The veal melted on my tongue, the sauce rich and deep. I praised her with every bite, telling her how incredible it tasted, how no five-star restaurant could compare to her cooking in my kitchen.
Each compliment made her glow, and every time she smiled at me like that, my obsession dug its claws deeper into my soul. She was becoming my everything. My Italian princess. The only person in this fucking world who made me want more than power and blood.
When she brought out panna cotta with fresh berries for dessert, I leaned back in my chair and watched her set it down with quiet pride.
“I’m sure it’s delicious,” I said, my voice dropping into that dangerous tone she was learning to recognize as my raw, hardcore need for her.
“But I’d rather eat my dessert from between your thighs.”
Her breath caught. Before she could respond, I took the dish of panna cotta, set it on the counter, and swept my arm across the table, sending everything crashing to the floor. Plates and glassed shattering, silverware pinging against the floor tiles.