Page 39 of Cookie: Part One
“Okay, rich people,” I mutter as I walk over and amble up the path, opening the door and immediately pausing at the sheer beauty.
There are vines hanging from the ceiling, lavender and rosemary growing along the walls, fat peonies blooming in the corners, and little wind chimes swaying with the breeze. There’s an old wooden bookshelf stuffed with faded leather journals, and soft lighting, giving it a more inviting feel, and the best part…it’s warm!
I take a step forward, enchanted, taking the stunning roses a bit closer and looking at the many different fruits and vegetables growing with such care.
“It seems you have habit of vondering into places you aren’t meant to be in.” I jump when I hear a low voice and whip around, eyes going wide when I see Mikhail, sleeves rolled to the elbow, one hand with a watering can like he belongs in a home and gardening magazine
“I… I’m sorry… I uhm… I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to come in here,” I murmur, taking in how utterly beautiful this man is. With his massive body, seeing him inside a greenhouse garden feels laughable, yet here he is.
“Vhatever… you’re here.” He finishes watering the lilies and moves on to some gorgeous orchids, and I follow him.
I feel uncomfortable just standing there, so I look around for Nadya and Dimitri, but they aren’t here…I haven’t seen them since the club.
“U-uhm… have you uhm… have you seen Nadya and Dimitri?” I ask, and he cuts his eyes to me.
“I have.”
“Oh… where are they? I haven’t seen them since the…” I blush, heart skipping a beat. “S-since the club.” He watches me for a long second and then looks back at the flowers.
“Zhey are recovering,” he voices casually, making me panic.
“Oh my God! Are they okay? From what?” I step forward, worried, and he glances at me with a smirk.
“From me.”Good Lord!I place my hand on my hammering heart, nervously stamping down the little part of me that wants to pry.
“O-oh… uhm… it’s beautiful in here,” I whisper, changing the subject and he stays quiet for a while. I assume he’s not going to say anything, but he shifts towards me.
“Was my babushka’s… my grandmozher,” he says after a long pause. “She built it after my parents died. Said plants vere quiet. Safe. Said zhey didn’t hurt people.”
“Smart woman.” I smile and he nods.
“Da, she vas kind, but hard voman. She vas quick offer hug vhen I needed, and vould clean my vounds vhen I got in trouble… vould beat me vhen I deserved it,” he chuckles dryly.
I glance around the garden, and my fingers brush a petal.
“She sounds like a total badass.” I want to say boss bitch, but yeah… I don’t know how that would fly.
“She vas.” His voice dips. “Strongest voman I knew. Tougher zhan half ze men in ze house.” Silence falls again, but for some reason it’s not awkward at all. It’s warm and heavy like a blanket. “She vould have liked you.” He surprises me by breaking the silence as he lifts his hand to brush a piece of hair from my cheeks, and I forget how to breathe.
His fingers linger, rough from work, but gentle for a man like him. His knuckles graze my cheek, and I should pull back, Ishouldsay something slick to break the moment, like mention his fiancé… but I’m a shameless, gluttonous, thirsty bitch, and I can’t do it.
My lungs stutter. My blood heats, and as his hand grazes my lips, a sharp jolt of electricity hits my pussy, causing my body to sway toward him before I even think to stop it.
The air in the greenhouse is thick and humid, smelling of damp soil and blooming jasmine. It feels like a jungle here, a perfect place to get lost in him. I know I should step away but instead I lean into him, body tingling as Misha’s arms tighten around me.
“Pechenye…” he pulls me closer. “Tell me about you.”
“W-why?” I go still not expecting that demand.
“Because I vant to know.”
“But again…why?” I pull away from him going over to look at a ladybug crawling. “It’s not like you need to know about me… I’ll be gone next week an?—”
“Do I need a reason?” I peek up at him, snorting.
“I guess you don’t, but there’s nothing to tell,” I shrug. “My family is as normal as they come,” I start, trying to sound casual as I trace the moisture bead on a giant fern leaf. “My mom’s a school teacher, my dad runs a small construction firm upstate,” I murmur.
“Do you have siblings?”
