Page 51 of Scarlet Vows
She looks at me, then slowly nods, seemingly more reassured.
“Now, I have a full day, but I’ll be back. Eat your breakfast, talk to Svetlana, or stay in your room. I’ll see you tonight.”
And before I do anything stupid like break my just-made promise, I head back down to go to Demyan’s early.
It’s aroundeight when I get back. Melor is in the study next to mine. A door I never noticed before connects the two rooms. The big computer in his study is on as he moves between the rooms, working. I watch for a few minutes, a little more relaxed with the idea of him being me in this particular bratva relationship.
He did tell me he’d be helping me ease into the job, which I appreciate, so I hunker down to learn the system here better.
When he leaves, it’s nine, and the house is quiet. Svetlana lives on the property in a guesthouse, as does Melor. But they’ve both left to do what they do after hours respectively.
I’m about to head up to see how Alina’s doing when she appears at the study door.
“I like Svetlana,” she says.
I smile “Good. Me too.” I gesture to the door. “I’m going to make some dinner. I can bring you something up, or you can join me.”
Her face perks up. “Pasta?” she asks, a hint of hopefulness in her voice. “The Ilya Special?”
“Do I know how to cook anything else?” I say.
“You can cook. Better than me anyway.”
I laugh, and we head down. Alina chops while I cook, sauteing bacon, onion, and garlic. The chopped canned tomatoes are at the ready, the mushrooms, other veggies, and pork all set in dishes that Alina set up as amise en placefor me.
After she chops the herbs, she grates the cheese. Then she decides to get creative by choosing dried artisan pasta.
“Are you trying to open a restaurant here?” I ask as I stir the sauce.
“Only if I’m head chef.”
“You want to be head chef?”
She shrugs. “It sounds glamorous.”
“It sounds like thankless, hard work.” I bump shoulders with her as I salt the simmering water and drop in the pasta.
“I’ll have lots of Michelin stars.”
“Oh, you will, will you?”
The pasta takes minutes to cook, and then I toss it with some of the sauce. Alina sprinkles some of her signature fresh grated parmesan and cracked black pepper mix she makes on top.
I open the red wine and pour us both a glass. “Glad you got up and joined the land of the living,malyshka.”
She wrinkles her nose. “It’s just been an overwhelming few days, I guess. The lead-up to yesterday’s wedding, the wedding, all of it. It crashed down on me.” She looks at me. “But the thought of losing you as a friend’s too much, so here I am.”
“Alina.” I set down my fork and squeeze her hand. “That’ll never happen. We’ll get through this and come out with an even stronger friendship.”
I’m going to make sure of it. No matter what.
Chapter Eleven
ALINA
The next week’s…good. Like things are back to normal, at least as normal as things can be when you’re living in another bratva mansion and fake married to one of your closest friends.
Just another boring day, or five, of my life. I almost laugh.
