“What the fuck. That’s sexy. What does it mean?” Orion asks. “Tell me it’s not just babe or sweetheart.”
“I want one. What would you call someone who is…” Callum starts.
“A fucking menace?” Juliet adds.
“Bespredel’ets,” I say.
“I’ve got a boner now,” Callum says. “Make eye contact next time you say it and I’ll come right here.”
I meet his eyes. “Bespredel’ets,” I say slow.
Callum actually stands up, pretends to adjust himself, and announces to the table, “Excuse me, I need to go change my pants. That was a critical hit.”
“Sit down, you’re not allowed to come until the new guy does. House rules,” Orion says flat.
“Jesus Christ,” Elliot pinches the bridge of is nose. “Excuse him. We can’t seem to civilize him no matter what we try.”
I turn to Orion. “And you, Zver.”
“Did you just verbally dom me?” Orion says. “Because I liked it. Say it again slower.”
“I love this,” Juliet bounces a little. “Do Elliot.”
“Gospodín.” I say.
Elliot’s gaze barely flickers.
“Now you’re exaggerating,” he says, and sips his wine. Then adds, “And yet…” His fingers graze Juliet’s arm. “…I’ll take it.”
“Don’t encourage him.” Noah laughs and takes a bite of the medivok. “This is delicious as always.”
“Spasibo, Dusha,” I say. “Sweetest soul in the house.”
“Well, now that I’m one more pet name from orgasm, my volk,” Juliet says.
“Let’s turn it into a drinking game. Every time Vitaly accidentally doms someone with a Russian word, everyone else has to drink and moan exaggeratedly,” Callum says.
“By the time he calls Noah solnyshko, Callum will be fake-sobbing into a pillow and pregnant,” Orion says.
“Let’s pause on volk. Vitaly Volkov,” Callum says. “You could have been anything with that name, and you chose baker?”
“He’s not wrong,” Orion adds. “That’s a hitman name. And you’re out here just… making pastries?”
“Good pastries,” Noah adds.
“Top tier,” Elliot says.
“Volkov sounds like a werewolf who runs a gluten-free bakery, stares at your soul, and silently judges your croissant order,” Noah says.
“He does have that brooding Eastern-European intensity,” Orion says.
“That voice though?” Callum says. “Can we keep him, Madness? He can be our designated weapon of mass seduction.”
“He’s ours,” Juliet says.
“Seriously though. Do you at least have a secret past? A body count?” Callum asks leaning in. “Or is your biggest crime illegally delicious pastries?”
“That’s not a crime,” Elliot says. “It’s an asset. You can’t fucking cook.”
