Page 39 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai woke up hungry the next morning. He’d had a restless night, and didn’t feel like he’d gotten much sleep at all. He kept seeing Elliot in his dreams. Back in Vitale’s clutches, crying out as he was hurt—

Nikolai wouldn’t let that happen.

As he went through his morning routine, his thoughts turned to the text conversation he’d had with Gerard and Meredith yesterday. The plan to lure Vitale back to the states. Gerard and Meredith were right; knowing the kind of man Vitale was, it had a high chance of working, and working quickly.

Nikolai still didn’t like it. Didn’t like any plan that involved Elliot in the line of fire. He’d—he’d already gone through so much.

But did Nikolai really want to drag this out? Vitale had already killed a woman, injured more. If Nikolai let him run rampant, there was no telling how many casualties there might be. Not to mention the bad business Vitale was trying to bring into Nikolai’s city.

Did Nikolai want to risk not getting Vitale back in town quickly, to put him down?

He rinsed off his razor and reached for his toothbrush, glaring at his reflection.

No. No, Nikolai didn’t want to just sit around to wait and see what Vitale would try next.

He was already perfectly aware that for Vitale, Nikolai’s head was next on the chopping block.

And if Nikolai fell, Elliot would be collateral too.

He couldn’t help but think about how excited Elliot had been at lunch yesterday.

He’d wanted to learn about every one of Nikolai’s favorite meals.

Nikolai had practically seen him compiling a mental list. He’d never met anyone so into cooking, but seeing how it lit Elliot up, Nikolai was dedicated to giving him every opportunity to do so.

Nikolai couldn’t bear to see that light shattered. Elliot had come out of his shell enormously since he’d first been… brought to Nikolai. But he still jumped at shadows. Still had difficulty making eye contact. Still bit down on his lip to keep quiet.

Nikolai knew that such behaviors couldn’t be unlearned in such a short time, but if he had anything to say about it, Elliot would soon be free of Vitale’s shadow. They all would be.

Which meant getting Vitale back in town so that Nikolai could put a bullet in his skull.

Fuck.

He finished brushing his teeth and went to his closet, choosing a loose fitting pair of slacks and a long sleeve shirt.

He went to the bureau that held his jewelry, sliding on a hublot before picking out a thick-chained necklace as well as one additional ring that he slipped onto his pinky with the regulars he wore.

His shirt didn’t have holes for his favorite pair of cufflinks, so he slid one of his lockpick sets into his pants pocket.

Unlocking his phone, he went to check his calendar. What did he have to do today?

Some overdue tasks for his father’s businesses—make some rounds and have his face seen.

Ugh. He didn’t expect it to be dangerous or strenuous, but it would be taxing.

Anytime he had to handle his father’s businesses, it wore him down.

None of them were nearly as rewarding as the jewelry work he did with Gerard and Meredith.

But it was a nonnegotiable part of all of this. If he put it off too long someone might make a phone call back home, and that was the last thing Nikolai needed right now.

When Nikolai stepped out of his room, he got a whiff of something savory in the air. His stomach rumbled again, and he headed quickly through the house toward the kitchen.

Nikolai paused in the doorway to the kitchen. Elliot was busy working and hadn’t noticed Nikolai approach. Nikolai let himself just take a moment to watch Elliot in his element.

From where he was standing, Elliot wasn’t facing him. He was instead side-profile, dicing cubes of melon. Nikolai watched the flash of the knife, smooth and elegant. Elliot wielded it well, making easy, neat cuts.

It was almost incomprehensible that he’d ever had thoughts about Elliot using a knife for anything other than cooking. He was such a gentle, soft soul.

Nikolai watched him finish dicing the fruit and then take the knife to the sink. He rinsed and soaped and washed it with careful reverence, then dried it and returned it to the knife rack. He followed that up with cleaning the cutting board.

He looked so cozy there in the kitchen in a plain blue T-shirt and black sweatpants, moving around the space as though he’d been cooking here for years.

Except he hadn’t. His entire life had been disrupted and he’d been all but dropped into Nikolai's care. Dropped with almost nothing of his own.

Which reminded Nikolai that he really, really needed to put Meredith on that. Elliot needed things, more than just the handful of items they’d gotten him so far to get through a few days.

In fact… if Vitale had fucked off to Italy, now might be the perfect time for it.

Nikolai didn’t want Meredith to simply do all of Elliot’s shopping, he wanted Elliot to be able to pick out his own things.

He wanted Elliot to have control of that aspect of his life.

Nikolai could send the two of them out with one of his bodyguards—Alex, maybe.

He was slightly more friendly-looking than Pyotr, which Elliot might appreciate.

As Elliot moved to set the cutting board to dry, Nikolai assessed his bruising. There was still a deep purpling around his throat and eye, and it would draw attention if he went out in public. But putting the shopping off would just leave Elliot without.

Hm.

Nikolai should have a sweater somewhere that wouldn’t swallow Elliot completely, and he could loan him a scarf as well to cover his throat.

Seasonally, it was getting cold enough to justify both.

He could text Meredith about something for the eye, some concealer just to tone down the vividness.

He doubted Elliot would care for the attention it would bring.

The timer went off on the oven and Elliot walked to the cupboard.

He retrieved two plates and took them to a muffin tin that Nikolai noticed now had been sitting on the top of the stove cooling.

Elliot started plating whatever it was, and Nikolai stepped further into the kitchen to announce himself.

“Good morning,” he said. “What it is you’re making? Smells good.”

Elliot startled, but when his eyes met Nikolai's he didn’t shrink away. There was already color on his cheeks, perhaps from the heat of the oven, and it was a pretty effect. Or maybe it was the way his eyes lit up at the same time, bright and excited about what he’d made.

“It’s breakfast quiches,” Elliot said with a tentative smile. “Onion, tomato, spinach, cheese. Plus melon.”

Elliot had put two on each plate and Nikolai managed to grab the bowl with the melon before Elliot could attempt balancing it all.

“Oh, thank you,” Elliot said as he started toward the table.

“I’m have spinach?” Nikolai asked as he followed.

Elliot ducked his head bashfully as he set the plates down and took his seat. “I put it in the grocery order you let me place yesterday after lunch, I hope that’s okay.”

“Is not ‘I’m let you’ for grocery,” Nikolai said firmly as he put down the melon and took his own seat. “You are my new chef now.”

Elliot blinked wide-eyed at Nikolai in surprise. “I–what?”

Nikolai shrugged. The idea had just come to him, but he liked it. Maybe it would make Elliot feel like he had more of a sense of purpose, with an actual job to do.

“You make good food for me and you like cooking,” Nikolai said easily. “So I’m say yes, new chef.”

“But–” Elliot started and then stopped, apparently at a loss for words. “You can’t—can you just make me your new chef?”

Nikolai tapped his chin thoughtfully, enjoying the color that darkened Elliot’s cheeks even further. Yes, this was an excellent idea.

“Is very easy,” Nikolai said. “I say so, you make good food, I’m pay you. You have Meredith’s number now, but we will put grocery delivery app on your phone, so you can order anything.” The less barriers Elliot had to navigate to do what he loved to do, the better.

“I—wha—” Elliot stammered. “Nikolai–”

“Meredith will talk to you about salary,” Nikolai said, fighting to keep a straight face. “You are here, you’re cooking for me. No one should work for free, you see?”

Elliot sputtered through several more consonants that never became a word. While Elliot was working his way to a response, Nikolai picked up his fork to try the quiche.

The first bite was warm and rich on his tongue. It reminded Nikolai of a corn muffin in texture, but with all the best flavors of an omelet. He made a sound of approval as he chewed, and then popped a second bite into his mouth right after.

That seemed to focus Elliot. “Oh you… you like it?” He asked hopefully.

Nikolai nodded approvingly as he finished the muffin. “I’m say to Meredith that you’re making me eat spinach, and is even good.”

The smile that bloomed on Elliot’s face then was beautiful, and the second quiche that Nikolai had been reaching for was entirely forgotten. All of Elliot’s smiles were hard earned, but Nikolai wanted desperately to keep seeing them. To keep making Elliot feel safe. Safe and valued.

“You see? This is why I’m say you’re new chef,” Nikolai said when he recovered. He was on a roll now, so he decided to press his luck. “You can talk about it with Meredith when you’re going out with her today.”

“I’m… what?” Elliot asked. “I’m going out with Meredith?”

But Nikolai couldn’t answer because he was already deep into the second quiche. His enthusiasm worked though, and Elliot picked up his own fork to start eating.

“Since you’re here and have nothing,” Nikolai said when he’d finished the next quiche. “Meredith will take you to buy what you need.”