Everything had been going pretty well, so far. The plan to get closer to Mikhail in order to gain his trust has had no hitches whatsoever. I’d gone into typical wife mode since I woke up (after wading through memories of last night), and it had been going smoothly. It would go on this way until it was time for me to pull the rug out from under him.
Of course, I wasn’t stupid enough to expect him to be swept away immediately or even soon. Mikhail’s pauses and curious glances told me he was trying to gauge my actions and behavior. But that wasn’t a problem. If anything, it was an added reason, an incentive, for me to keep at it and make him come to truly trust me. If he’d just trusted me blindly and gone all in, he wouldn’t think twice before putting it aside if something suspicious happened. But if the trust came slowly after his second-guessing everything he did, his brain would remind him of how much he had come to trust me, and that would just make it easier for me to ruin him from the very core.
So, from how private his penthouse is to his attraction towards my body, I had more than enough tools at my disposal to work my plan. It would all be perfect in the end.
“These pancakes are good. Very good,” he remarked, gobbling up the pancakes on his plate.
“You said as much the first time. They’re just pancakes. Why is it so surprising?”
“Iamsurprised.”
“Uh, why?”
“Your father has a large staff, I know that,” he started. “You definitely never had to cook for yourself or anyone else, for that matter. So, yes, I’m surprised you can cook, and you’re good at it.”
I chuckled.
“The fact that my dad’s house was always so full of people was probably what I hated the most about it. It still always felt so…empty. Cooking was something I mostly did for the sense of control it gave me, even if it was temporary,” I explained, looking back down to my pancakes as I cut another piece.
“And they always allowed you. I mean, the staff. And even your father.”
“Nope. But I can only be stopped if I want to be stopped,” I revealed, looking up to meet his pale blue eyes.
“I bet that’s true,” he answered with a small chuckle, clearly not catching the double-meaning my words had.
“Hm.”
We continued eating in silence for a few more minutes until his plate, which was to my left, became empty. I looked up from the table, only to meet a gaze that wasn’t characteristicof him. There was no smirk, no silent show of power, no calculation. It was just him…looking. Maybe appraising. His eyes didn’t drift away even as my gaze met his.
“What? Want another mountain of pancakes?” I asked, attempting humor despite the puzzlement nagging at me.
“Nope,” he answered, shaking his head for an emphasis I definitely didn’t need. “Waiting for you to finish. To pack the plates.”
“I’ll do it. You can go to work, your warehouse, or wherever it is that you mafia bosses go to every day,” I answered, randomly gesturing towards him with my fork.
His lips curved in the tiniest fraction of a smile, but he didn’t say anything.
“I lived with mafia people almost all my life, so I know how these things work. So, get going,” I went on.
“You’re beautiful. Adorable,” he said, his tone low and deep.
“Right,” I drawled sarcastically, going back to my lovely food.
I’d be lying if I said his compliment didn’t scatter my thoughts for a second there.
“I work from home sometimes. And, this is one of those times. I mean, I just got married yesterday,” he casually clarified.
“Okay.”
“You should be here. On my left,” he let out, making me look in his direction again to see him gesturing to the vacant chair opposite mine. “You’re my wife. The space on my left is for you. Always.”
Thinking better of informing him that I would sit wherever I wanted to, I answered, “Okay.”
He was silent as I finished my food and just as I dragged the chair back to stand, he uttered, “No. Just sit.”
Rising to his feet, he grabbed my plate, put it in his, and took them to the kitchen.
“Don’t come. I’ll be done in a minute,” he instructed as he made his way into the kitchen.
