When I suggested he wear an apron, he didn’t hesitate. He let me tie it around his neck, and we both got a laugh out of that. He even pulled out his phone and sent a picture to his wife, grinning from ear to ear.
We continued to laugh as we got to know one another. That is, until Max appeared in the doorway.
Dimitri jumped up suddenly, startled by Max’s entrance. His elbow knocked the open container in my hand. A huge pile of salt landed right in the middle of the sauce. I stared at it in disbelief, watching the crystals dissolve into what was supposed to be dinner.
Shit.
Dimitri’s eyes widened, and he frantically tore at the apron, trying to take it off as fast as he could. The fabric tangled around his neck. His panic only seemed to make things worse.
Why did everything have to go wrong at once?
I tried to suppress my laughter.
Unfortunately, Dimitri didn’t manage to take off the apron fast enough. Max had already entered the kitchen. He took one look at Dimitri and gave him a blank stare.
“Did you make me dinner, Dimitri?”
I looked down, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud. I loved how grumpy he could be.
“Me?” Dimitri questioned, pointing to himself with a look of pure bewilderment. “No, I wouldn’t do something like that—why would I do something like that?”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer and laughed as I moved the food to the plate. My hands trembled, making it difficult to hold the pot still.
Max saw me struggling. He reached around me, holding the pot steady as I scooped out the rest of the noodles. His free hand rested just above my ass, his fingers grazing the small of my back.
I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, his breath warm against my ear. “I thought we weren’t doing the whole prudish Victorian thing?”
I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand, but his closeness was distracting. “We’re not.”
The sound of loud chatter filled the house the moment the front door swung open. I looked up from the stove and saw Mikhail and Lev, another one of his men, walking inside. They were arguing about something that didn’t concern me.
Mikhail’s voice cut through the air. “And I’m telling you, Lev, it’s not going to work like that. You need to think it through.”
Lev followed behind Mikhail quickly. He was tall, his strides just as wide as Mikhail’s. His hair was dark and wavy, his hazel eyes sharp and observant. “And I’m saying you’re overcomplicating it. We need to keep it simple.”
Their debate continued as they walked further into the house. “Sorry,” Max whispered in my ear, his breath causing goose bumps to trail across my arm. “I told them we could have a drink.”
I turned my head, meeting his eye. “That’s great, actually,” I said with a smile. “I made too much anyway. Tell them to stay.”
As I glanced back at the simmering pot, I crossed my fingers behind my back, silently hoping the food wasn’t too salty for them to eat. Dimitri just had to ruin it by being a careless klutz.
Max glared at me, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “No.”
“Why?” I asked, confused.
“Lev annoys me,” he said in a low voice.
Everyone annoyed Max. His patience was thin for anyone but me.
I shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Besides, he couldn’t possibly be any worse than you.”
Max sighed deeply, but he didn’t argue further.
I forced a smile. “Help me set the table, would you?”
Reluctantly, he helped me put more plates on the table, though it was clear he wasn’t too happy about it.
I took a seat next to Max. Mikhail leaned back in his chair across from us, already drinking from a glass full of vodka, his laughter filling the room as he shared some joke with Lev. Max, on the other hand, took a bite of the food I’d prepared. His chewing was slow and methodical.
