Page 95 of Ruinous Need
I’ve forced him to take some time off from scheming over Bratva and Mafia relations to help me with dinner. My family are visiting us for the first time, so we’ve decided to attempt Russian cuisine.
Viktor complains about cooking. Which is ridiculous for a thirty-five-year-old man who has existed alone in the world for a long time.
It’s because he grew up with staff. Well, he still does havestaff. They’re giving us major side-eye right now as we make piroshkis wrong and ignore their advice, but — as I’ve explained many times — we’ll learn nothing unless we try it ourselves. Our baby, I’ve decided, is going to receive cooking lessons.
Viktor frowns as he kneads the dough, his tattooed hands working the mixture until it’s smooth.
“Perfect.” I smile at him and kiss the spot of flour from his cheek, bumping him out of the way with my hip. “Now this bit, I can do.”
He settles against the kitchen island and watches me fold the meat inside the dough. His hand lingers against my hip.
“What’s wrong?” I say when I see his frown.
His dark eyes are stormy. I don’t know how he operates in the organized crime world when his emotions are always this obvious.
“I still don’t know who betrayed us, at the safe house.” His brow creases in thought.
“Are you serious?” I splutter and stop my folding. “How long have you been wondering this? I know who betrayed us.”
Viktor’s jaw drops open, and he looks at me accusingly, like I’ve been keeping a secret from him.
“Don’t give me that look. You never asked me.”
“Who was it?”
I raise a finger to my chin in thought. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. Maybe this is a sign that your wife should be kept in the loop with serious mafia business more often.”
He growls at that, pushing me back against the fridge. “What if I promise to keep you in the loop more?”
“Ifyou promise to keep me in the loop more, I might tell you.”
“Then I promise.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t think I would have been able to keep this secret anyway. Viktor can be convincing, especially when we’re in bed.
“It was Daria. She was on Semyon’s side the entire time, feeding him information about you. It’s why the security threats got so bad. The extra security was a security threat.”
His eyes widen. He rakes a hand through his hair. “I thought she hated Semyon.”
“She hated him, but she was also deeply in love with him.”
“Terrible taste.” His mouth quirks up at the edge.
“I know.” I shudder. “I liked her. Maybe I’m a bad judge of character.”
He snorts at that. “You’re not a bad judge of character. You’re not a judge of character at all. You like everyone.”
“Not true,” I pout.
“Name one person you don’t like.”
“Semyon?”
“Sure, the man who bought you and ruined your life for years. Shocker. Anyone else?”
I drop my hands to the dough and focus on folding another piroshki, my stomach turning with guilt. “Sometimes my father. I just wish he had fought for me more, you know. I didn’t even know that was something I was allowed to want, until you showed me.”
He cups my face and traces his thumb over my cheek. “Of course. You were eighteen and terrified. If you resent him for that, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
