I shrug. “I had to go to a specialty store. I have to say, breaking into grocery stores was a first for me. I’ll make sure to add it to my résumé if I’m ever in need of new employment.” I gesture at the berries. “Those were the best I could find.”
She opens the container, selects a strawberry, and bites into it. I watch her face as she chews, trying to read her reaction.
"Well?" I ask when she doesn't say anything.
"They're good." She takes another bite, and her expression softens as she looks up at me. "Really good."
"And the chocolate?"
She examines the bars I brought, reading the labels. When she opens one and breaks off a piece, I find myself holding my breath.
"Perfect," she says quietly.
The way she says it, her voice slightly husky, sends a shiver of heat down my spine. My cock twitches as I watch her wrap her lips around another strawberry, and I can’t help but imagine her saying that about something else. About my cock as she purses her lips around it, running her tongue down?—
I swallow hard. "Good." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "If you need anything else?—"
"I know." She meets my eyes. "Anything."
We stay like that for a moment, looking at each other across the room while she eats strawberries and chocolate at midnight. While I try not to think about what it means, making her happy feels better than anything I've done in years.
"Thank you," she says finally.
It’s two very simple words, but they feel like a victory.
The next morning, she emerges from her room as I’m getting ready to leave to meet Ilya at the office. I glance at her as she goes to the fridge, putting berries on a plate. “Artem is outside,” I tell her. “Doing a round. He’ll come in after a bit, and if you need anything, he’ll contact me.”
“Anything?” Her voice sounds slightly more unsure than before, almost a little vulnerable, instead of the challenge it was last night. I nod.
"Svetlana, I meant what I said. Anything you need, anything you want—it's yours."
She stares at me for a moment. "You can't just claim people, you know."
My gaze flicks down to her still-flat stomach, then back up to her face. “I already have.” I reach for my jacket. "I have to go. Artem will be here in ten minutes. Please don't make this difficult."
Her eyes narrow, a bit of that rebellion returning. "Or what?"
"Or I'll worry about you all day and be completely useless at my job, which will make Ilya suspicious, which will put us both in danger." I soften my voice. "Please."
She purses her lips. "Fine."
"Thank you." I make it to the door before she speaks again.
"Kazimir?"
I turn back immediately. "Yeah?"
"Next time..." She pauses, and when I look back, she's smiling. Just a little. "I want fresh pasta. The kind that’s handmade. And those little pastries from the Italian place in the North End."
“Cannoli?” I frown.
"No, not that. I don't know what they're called. The ones that are crispy and have the ricotta inside."
I nod, fighting back a smile of my own. “I’ll find them.”
She looks at me suspiciously. "Tonight?"
"Tonight," I confirm.
