But then a knock came at the door, causing Sarah to jump back and untangle herself from me. “It’s probably the cleaners,” I said.
Her brows furrowed. “Cleaners?”
“Yeah, I didn’t want you or your mom having to clean up Silas’s mess.”
“Oh,” she murmured as her eyes grew teary.
After cracking the door, I saw it was the wives of two of our soldiers. They gave me hesitant smiles. “Good evening, Mr. Korolov,” the older of the two said.
“Good evening, Vlada.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes that I knew her name. My father barely knew the names of his soldiers, least of all their wives. Except for the ones he fucked.
Dima joked that I would be the good cop to his bad cop as co-pahkan–the heart of our team. One way I planned to do that was by knowing the men who worked for me and their families.
Turning to the woman beside her, I said, “Nice to see you, Raisia.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied more to the foyer floor than to myself.
“Please come in.”
After opening the door wide, the women came inside. I motioned to Sarah. “This is my friend, Sarah. Her parents experienced a break-in t-tonight.”
At my lie, Sarah’s brows popped wide to which I gave a slight shake of my head. “We just need the living and dining rooms cleaned.”
“We’ll get right on that, sir.”
“Thank you.” Taking Sarah by the arm, I started leading her to the kitchen. “Where are your parents?”
Sarah smiled. “My parents have a huge ensuite. Dad took his leftovers there.”
“I gotta say I’m a little hungry myself.”
“Me too.” Jerking her thumb at the fridge, Sarah asked, “Want me to see what they have?”
“I’d love it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: SARAH
After making roast beef sandwiches with the remaining roast, Maksim and I sat down at the kitchen table. We were hungrier than we thought because when we dug in, we devoured the sandwiches at a rabid pace.
Although I wasn’t finished, Maksim had emptied his plate of chips and pickles, so I rose out of my chair to make him another sandwich. “You know I’m capable of d-doing that myself,” he argued.
“You’re the guest in my house, so let me be hospitable,” I argued with a smile.
He grinned. “So fucking stubborn.”
“It’s one of my best traits.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded as I swiped mayo onto a slice of bread. “I would’ve never made it this far in life if I hadn’t been stubborn.”
“I can see t-that.”
“I’d say you were pretty stubborn.”
“I’m Russian,” he mused.
