“Thank you,” I say with a bit too much cheer. “Chocolate is probably best, I think. I’msolooking forward to it, I love everything you make. I’ll go let my father know what the plan is.”
“He will not be dining with you,” Grigory tells me before I can leave the room. “He has the annual meeting with underbosses tonight.”
“He does?” I ask, surprised that he didn’t tell me. “Is Uncle Mikhail going?”
My chef shrugs. “I do not know.”
He may or may not be, but I doubt Dad will leave me alone in the house with Matteo. If it’s not my uncle left behind to keep an eye on us, it will be guards. Still, that means we’ll probably be eating by ourselves, at least.
When I find my father, it’s in his office just as he’s strapping a gun to his ankle. He’s wearing one of his best suits—one of the ones with thin kevlar sewn into the inside of the jacket. Uncle Mikhail is nowhere to be seen, and my father looks like he’s preparing for war.
“So it’s true,” I say, rather than my typical warm greeting. “You’re leaving? I just got home.”A few hours ago, but semantics.I can hear the disappointment in my voice, and judging by the frown on his face, so can he.
“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” Dad reveals, standing up straight as he rolls his pant leg back down. “I don’t want to leave so soon after you’ve arrived either, but this meeting has been planned for months,dochen’ka.It’s important that I be there as Pakhan.”
My posture slumps, but I nod in understanding. “Matteo is going to make dinner tonight. I’ll leave some in the fridge for you.”
“Spasibo, Anya.” He lessens the space between us and sets his hands on my shoulders. “Uncle Mikhail will be with me,okay? I’m trusting you to be alone with Matteo, and I hope you will not make me regret this choice.”
My heart swells an almost prideful feeling, hearing his faith in me. I know we won’t be entirely alone, and that there will most certainly be eyes on the pair of us while Matteo is here, but it means a lot nevertheless.
“The guards won’t swarm in the room and hurt him if we hug, will they?” I ask, biting my cheek to keep from smiling.
“We’ll see,” he grumbles. His watch beeps and he looks down at it. “He’s here, and I have to go. I love you, Anya. Have a good time, okay?”
“I love you too,Papochka.I’ll see you when you get home.” Or, more likely, in the morning tomorrow. These meetings typically run long.
Dad doesn’t stick around to greet my friend, which is a little rude, but it also means he doesn’t stick around to threaten Matteo with his typical fatherly glares, snappish words, or warning looks.
Matteo grins at me as I let him into the house and show him into the kitchen. He has two bags of groceries filled with cooking supplies and ingredients to put away, but he sets them on the counter instead of making a move toward the fridge. “Are you hungry? We could do an early dinner if you are, or we can wait a while before I start cooking.”
“I’m hungry,” I admit a little reluctantly. I don’t want to put him to work as soon as he’s arrived, but I can’t deny that dinner sounds lovely right about now. “I didn’t eat enough lunch this afternoon. I was so preoccupied with getting settled in after traveling.”
“No worries. I’m always ready to eat,” Matteo tells me, wiggling his eyebrows with a grin plastered on his lips. “Early dinner, it is.”
I’m not sure why he seems amused by his comment, so I simply move the conversation along.
“Um, the pots and pans are right there,” I say, gesturing to the designated cabinets. “And the cooking utensils are in the drawer above them.”
“Sweet,” he quips, beginning to look for what he needs. “How many people am I cooking for?”
I swallow, remembering I haven’t told him that we’re alone yet. “Well, um, it’s just us.”
“Is it?” He looks up, his intense gaze meeting mine.
“There’s a meeting tonight, it’s a big thing. It’s just us and the staff but they don’t eat with us, they have their own kitchen and options for food. If you could make enough for my dad to have some when he gets home, that would be nice, though. Oh, and maybe Grigory, if that’s okay? He’s going to make us something with chocolate for dessert.”
“Well, if he’s feeding us something with chocolate, I have to cook for the man,” Matteo decides, nodding happily. “I’ll make enough for him and your dad. More pasta can never be a bad thing. I’ll get started, and we’ll have dinner in a half hour.”
“And maybe I can take you on a real tour after?” I suggest, smiling hesitantly. “My dad didn’t say anywhere was off limits this time, so I can show you everywhere you missed before. I know that made men like to have an idea of the layout whenever they’re somewhere unfamiliar.”
“A tour sounds great,” he agrees, beginning to pull food out of his cloth bags. “But not because I need to know your house’s layout for security purposes. I just want to see more of the place that you grew up in. I bet you have plenty of stories that go along with different parts of every room.”
“I don’t know if I have any good stories.” I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “But it would be nice to show you around anyway. We have a movie theater, and a game room that almost neverget used anymore. Ivan and Dmitri used to love games. They were always so competitive but they still let me win at almost everything.”
“See,” Matteo says suddenly, snapping his fingers and pointing at me. “That’s exactly what I mean. That’s an adorable story about your home.”
My face goes warm and I lick my lips. “I guess you’re right.”
