My brows furrowed as he took out butter, parsley, and chicken stock.
“Chicken marsala?” I guessed, thinking back to the ingredients I’d memorized after the hours of cross-examining the recipe.
He nodded before he began slicing the chicken breasts with precise, sharp movements.
“Is it a good idea to let Jayden know we’re onto him?” I said, entranced by the expert way he handled the knife. I’d planned to put the book in its rightful spot before Jayden got home. Not throw it in his face.
“If the ingredient changes are his master key to cooking the accounting books, then he’ll panic when he discovers we know. And while he’s covering it up…” Dmitri slammed a mallet onto the chicken breast, pounding it flat.
It was brilliant. If the changes in the recipes were meaningless, then there’d be no harm. But if he started panicking, then we’d have the answer to the Pakhan’s question.
“Do you need any help?” I asked, nodding towards the ingredients.
Dmitri leaned against the counter and absently twisted the mallet in his hands. “I’d prefer to survive the meal,” he drawled.
“Are you that concerned about my cooking?” I said with a laugh.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
The roughness in his tone set off a memory from the day we’d sparred and I’d threatened him with poison. ‘I’d hate to snap that pretty little neck of yours, Alisa.’
I blinked back to the present, and this time when he slammed the mallet into the chicken, my stomach thudded along with it.
Chapter twenty-three
Alisa
Later that night I laid in bed, cursing the showerhead for not relieving the throbbing ache between my legs.
Thathadto be the problem. And it certainly wasn’t because I kept replaying the experienced movements of Dmitri’s hands while he fixed us dinner.
Nope.
I tried to let my mother’s silent tears at my brother’s funeral rush over me. The pinched expression on her face when she heard my brother had died. The look in her eyes that plainly told me she wished it had been him who survived instead of me.
I’d been forced to take credit for Dmitri’s murder of my brother, so the Pakhan didn’t murder me for disobeying his orders. Now every time I went home, I knew without a doubt that my parents were wishing they were greeting Kiril at the door instead.
When all of that failed to dull the ache between my legs, I moved my mind to a neutral place. The look on Jayden’s face when Dmitri offered him some leftover chicken marsala. Fora moment Jayden’s eyes widened comically large, and Dmitri’s lips curled into that signature smirk.
By itself, it wasn’t enough evidence, so now we just had to wait for Jayden to make his move. Just one screw up on his part, and then we’d be out of here with our mission accomplished.
Metal thumped against the wall in the other room, and tension coiled deep in my lower belly.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and willed my body to listen to reason. I needed sleep. But all my muscles clenched for an entirely different reason.
My doorknob suddenly rattled. I stared into the dark space, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me. The sound stopped jerkily, and something that felt suspiciously like disappointment washed over my skin.
A metallic clicking noise sounded from my locked door, and my heart rate sped up. In the shield of darkness, I glanced down at my nightgown, feeling the almost painful way my nipples were straining against the cotton fabric.
The door knob slowly turned. Anger battled against arousal as the door silently swung open. Who the hell did Dmitri think he was breaking into-
My breath caught in my throat as the moonlight outlined the thin frame of the intruder.
It wasn’t Dmitri.
Jayden silently slunk into the dark room. Air was trapped in my lungs, and I couldn’t force anything out. This couldn’t be happeningagain. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare with dawning terror.
No, not like before.
