I might need to start tagging along to the diner more often. This is entertaining.
When dessert comes, Lev gets a chocolate chip cookie, but she brings two and sets the second one down in front of him like it’s a secret between them.
“This one’s on me,” she says with a wink. “For the chocolate.”
Kirill watches her. When she catches his stare, her cheeks flush.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I should’ve asked first. I just thought?—”
He lifts a hand, stopping her mid-ramble. “It’s fine.”
And for the first time since he stepped inside, the corner of his mouth twitches. Barely a smile, but it’s there.
She lets out a quiet laugh, relief softening her features. “Alright, then. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
Then she slips away, darting into the kitchen.
“She likes you,” I tell him.
“She doesn’t know me, and she doesn’t want to.”
“Doesn’t matter. She still likes you.”
Kirill says nothing.
When we’re done and getting ready to leave, he stalks toward the counter, stops beside her, and pulls a folded stack of cash from his wallet.
“This is for you.” He grabs her hand and presses the bills into her palm.
She looks down at it, eyes widening. “Wait, this is too much…”
But he’s already walking away.
FIONA
By the time I walk through the front doors after work, all I want is a hot cup of tea and maybe a quiet hour with a book by the fireplace in his den.
I kick off my shoes and leave them by the bench in the foyer, then hang my bag on the hook in the hallway, phone still in hand. The staff moves around me in practiced silence, wiping down surfaces that already gleam. The guards posted throughout the house do little to hide their presence, and the weight of their stares makes the place feel less like a home and more like a beautifully furnished prison.
“Aleksei here?” I ask, turning toward the nearest guard.
He meets my eyes while standing with his arms crossed, expression unreadable as he answers in a clipped tone. “Boss is at work.”
The disappointment creeps in so fast, I barely catch it. It settles somewhere low and uninvited, curling in my stomach before I have a chance to reason it away.
His absence should come as a relief. A break from his madness, from the intensity that slithers around him like he’s one with me. I should be grateful for the space.
But…I’m not.
Some stupid part of me imagined walking in and finding him waiting. Maybe not smiling or warm, but present. A nod. A look. A question about my day. Anything.
But why? Why do I care? Why do I want that? Am I that desperate to find someone who gives a shit? Who wants to burn the earth down just to have me?
Or have I somehow stepped into the dark side without realizing I was there to begin with?
My God, this is a nightmare.
Keep your shit together, Clark.
