Page 33 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

“Shall we?”

He steps aside, his eye on me as I walk out of my room. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asks me.

“I did,” I respond. “Quite well, actually. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good. I’ve been planning something special for tonight.”

That sends alarms up my spine. “Special… Sir?”

“You’ll see after dinner,” he says, offering me a sly smile.

The dining room is as it always is, wooden table with a linen tablecloth over it, rectangular and long, but not so long that it fills the room. There are only two chairs, one on either end. My chair is near the wall with the portrait of his predecessor on it and his is near the doorway. He walks me to my chair and pulls it out for me.

“Tonight, I asked the staff to prepare something hardy,” he says. “Borscht as a first course, Beef Wellington for the main course, and for dessert…” He pauses. I look at him and realize he’s noticed me wrinkling my nose. “Is there a problem?”

Man, I didn’t want to start with him tonight. Then again, I suppose it’s better for me to be truthful than to try and bullshit him. “I hate Borscht.”

“You… hate Borscht?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. It makes me roll my eyes.

“I know. But I’m just not a fan of cold soup. I think it’s weird.” He laughs. “What? Because I’m Russian, I should like cold soup? That’s insane.”

“Well, I guess that’s valid,” he says. “Borscht has an interesting history, though.” He walks the length of the table to his chair. “For instance, did you know that there are people who confuse it for a Ukrainian dish made from beetroot?”

I blink with slight confusion. “Borscht isn’t beet soup?”

“Not traditionally, no. Its had several variations over the years, but it’s actually derived from pickled hogweed.” I wrinkle my nose again and his smile broadens. “It’s had a few upgrades as people migrated through Europe over the centuries.”

“Is it still cold?”

“Tragically, yes,” he says. “But you might like it the way I’ve had it made. I had the staff use an old recipe.”

I shrug a little. “I’ll try it. But you can’t punish me for not liking it. I warned you ahead of time.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he says.

The food comes and I try the borscht. It’s still weird. Sour, savory, and more… I don’t know… grassy than what I’m used to? It tastes like somebody living in a hut made it and therefore, it’s actually a little worse. I grimace after the first bite and Titussays, “You’re excused from finishing it. Thank you for at least giving it a chance.”

We go on with dinner and the conversation is light. I find myself stealing glances at him to find him smiling at some of my quips… almost like he’s actually being kind to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that this was a date.

We’re about halfway through dinner when he says, “I need you to do something for me.”

I straighten up slightly. Whatever he’s about to ask will probably be physical. I’d better steel myself.

“I want you to watch Luka during the day. More than that, actually. He needs a nanny of sorts. Someone to help him with his studies as well as keep him entertained. I have staff now, so you don’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning?—”

“Hold on. You want me to watch your kid? Are you serious?”

His amber eyes darken a little. “Is that a problem, Sofia?”

This is usually my cue to bend to him, lower my head and utter a meekyes, sir.But this isn’t sex or some arbitrary command. This is looking after a child. “I… I don’t know,” I stammer. “I didn’t think you trusted me to that extent.”

He sighs. “It’s less about trust and more about your morality. You may still want to hurt me. I don’t think you have it in you to hurt an innocent boy.”

That’s a fair assessment, I’ve got to admit. Still…

He wipes his face with a napkin and stands up, walking over to me. “If you need incentive,” he says as he caresses my cheek,“I can provide it. If you do well with him, I might be willing to reward you for your work.”

His touch is warm and soft against my cheek as he moves up to my hair. He grabs my braid and yanks it back, exposing my neck to him. I gasp with surprise as he leans in and kisses it, his lips warm as he subtly licks the groove on the side.