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A week went by that I could only describe as blissful. Or very close to it. No fighting, no drama. I had just about let myself forget how angry and scared I had been when Nik tossed me in his car and then ultimately forced me to marry him. It was even easy to forget I had some alleged villain after me when everything was going so perfectly. When I had a free moment, I stopped to wonder how the hell I’d made such a one-eighty.

Where was my raging determination to get out of this situation, out of Nik’s house and out of his life? Um, maybe I kind of liked being in Nik’s life?

The turning point must have been his family. The very thought of meeting them at all, let alone under their judgment, was enough to turn me into a meek little mouse that couldn’t utter a squeak for myself. They were freaking crime lords, Bratva kings, for goodness’ sake. Who wouldn’t be terrified?

But under the bluster, they were all so loving and supportive of each other, even when they disagreed and broke out in a noisy argument. It was only a matter of minutes before they came back to the fact they were family, and that was always the most important thing. It was novel to me since I had never experienced anything like it, and just plain exhilarating to be part of, even a little bit.

If only I could have something like that for myself, all the time, not just that once. Nik’s siblings’ excitement about planning the wedding made it easy to think it was all real. That we were in love and looking forward to the future together. Not solely because I was being hunted by Nik’s archenemy. In reality, the future was much too hazy and uncertain to think about, and it gave me a stomach ache when I did. It was so much easier to remain in the present, where everything was going perfectly.

We had fallen into a schedule where Nik would work at home in the mornings and then follow me to Khoroshiy in the afternoon. He was so agreeable I didn’t mind his constant presence too much.

Stopping outside the kitchen, he let go of my hand as we reached the doors. Before I pushed through them, Nik leaned down to give me a tender kiss before heading to his office in the back. The kiss lingered as I entered my domain, and a smile broke over my face as I snapped on the lights to survey my kingdom.

Probably the most important thing was that Nik was letting me continue working at Khoroshiy. Despite the extra plainclothes guards, he balked at the idea of me being out in the open. It was a concession on his part that I was grateful about, but if he dared try to take it away from me, the mouse would run to its corner, and a lioness would emerge. This was something I was prepared to fight for.

Khoroshiy was like my own slice of heaven. The moment I entered the huge, spotless kitchen, I felt grounded and sure of myself. When I’d first been hired, I thought I’d be overwhelmed by suddenly having so much responsibility. It seemed like it was a joke, and I kept waiting for someone to jump out and reveal I was actually starring on a hidden camera prank show.

Instead, everything slipped into place, like I was meant to be there all along. Even though I was so young and had so little experience, everyone on the staff listened to me with respect, and I found I was a natural at leading them. The recipes were difficult, but I mastered them to Nik’s high standards, which gave me even more confidence. I didn’t think I could live without this job, not when just standing in the empty kitchen made me feel like I’d come home after a long, weary journey.

Sliding on my chef coat, I perused that night’s specials, getting my checklist in order in time for the first of the fresh food deliveries to arrive. No tomato, scallop, or bottle of wine slipped past me without my approval, but I used every ounce of my Southern manners to keep the delivery guys from getting impatient with me.

“We’ve got some amazing halibut we weren’t expecting,” my fish vendor told me when it was his turn.

“Well, it’s not on the menu tonight,” I said, but followed him into his truck to check them out anyway. He was right. The massive fish resting in the ice chest all but begged me to put them on as another special. “Yeah, go ahead and bring them in.”

When Nik was just my boss two crazy weeks ago, I did everything I was told and followed the previous chef’s recipes to the letter. It was when I added my own touch to Nik’s Russian dumplings, and he approved them, that changed everything. Literally, since that was the same day everything popped off, and I was now Mrs. Fokin. Ever since he let me return to the kitchen, I’d been experimenting here and there, and so far, all my changes had been well received.

As visions of what these halibut could become danced through my head, I was practically giddy when the deliveries were finished. I could get down to butchering my new prizes. Brimming with confidence wasn’t something I was used to, just like being around a big, happy family, but I liked it just as much. Nik didn’t seem to mind the attention I had been getting and even though he hustled me back to the compound as soon as the kitchen was shut down every night, he’d caved when a food critic had asked for an interview.

I had been nearly jumping for joy when I got the message and even Nik was impressed that Torrance Harding was taking an interest. The world-famous critic had his own show where he traveled the world and sampled everything from food truck fare to the best fine dining. He’d never been to Khoroshiy before, and the fact that he wanted to interview me had me floating on air. The plan was to go to the hotel he was staying at for the interview, then he’d come for dinner tonight.

So, of course, whatever I did with this halibut had to be perfect.

“Oh my God, not fish!” a familiar voice called from the kitchen doorway. “You’re going to stink up the gowns I brought.”

I looked up at Mila, who had three brisk assistants in tow, each of them hauling a covered clothing rack through the kitchen. In my excitement about the interview, I had completely forgotten Nik’s sister was bringing more dresses for me to try on. She was a drill sergeant, egged on by Nik’s niece Nataliye, who had come back from her studies in Italy to help boss me around.

“I can’t today,” I said, apologizing profusely.

I had become friendly with Mila once my ridiculous and unwarranted jealousy was out of the way. She was sweet and helpful under all the whip-cracking, and there were a few times I’d felt close enough to her to almost admit my mistake in thinking she was Nik’s mistress. She would have thought it was hilarious, but I wasn’t quite there yet, still shriveling with embarrassment every time I thought about it.

Mila stood firm, waving to the assistants to set up the racks despite my fishy hands. “Since you refuse to take any time off, we agreed you’d do this in your downtime.” Making a big show of tapping her dainty gold watch, she reminded me that this was supposed to be my downtime. No amount of trying to explain the last-minute special would sway her.

I begrudgingly washed my hands and went to the banquet room, the only open spot suitable for trying on wedding dresses that all seemed to have twenty-foot trains.

“I swear, if a customer complains about getting a crystal in their food, you’re going to have to explain why,” I said.

“Gladly,” she answered, all business now that she was in her element.

The first choice was a hard no, and I refused to even put it on. “I hate the crunchy material, and the neck is way too low.”

“That’s silk organza,” Mila informed me, deeply offended on the gown’s behalf. “And it’s a flattering style for your proportions.”

The next dress was stunning when the three assistants held it up, but hung on me like a trash bag. Even with all the clips in place to show how it could be altered, nobody was able to work up much enthusiasm.

The third was a maybe, but then I realized how much time had passed since I was starting to have fun without noticing it. Mila’s passion for fine fabrics and designs was infectious.

“I really have to go,” I said, lamenting that I’d have to leave the halibut to the prep staff. When I proudly shared the news of my interview with Torrance Harding, Mila was suitably excited.

“That’s so amazing,” she gushed. “I’m surprised Nik’s letting you out of his sight, though.”

“Oh, he’d be going if he didn’t have a big meeting with some people from Tokyo. That’s been on his schedule for a month, and the whole thing with Torrance was super last minute, but I’ve got Vlad the Impaler going with me, so it’ll be fine.”

As if Nik heard us talking about him, he stuck his head in to say goodbye. Mila jumped in front of me, hauling one of the racks over to block his view. “You said this dress was a maybe,” she told me. “I don’t want him to see it if it’s still in the running.”

“I want to kiss my wife goodbye,” Nik bellowed.

“Too bad,” Mila yelled back. “You can wait a couple hours until you both get back.”

Nik narrowed his eyes at her, but gave in with a grumble. I poked my head up and blew him a kiss, getting a heart-stopping smile in return.

How had things changed so radically? How was I having such a good time, completely on top of the world? Did it really matter when I was enjoying this dreamy existence so much?

I left Mila and her crew to get changed back into my regular clothes, and the driver, who doubled as a guard and looked like an extra mean linebacker, waited for me out behind the restaurant.

Vlad wasn’t really as mean as he looked. In fact, he was polite and even pleasant to me sometimes. I still hated having a personal guard with me at all times but it was one of the conditions of continuing to work at the restaurant while things were up in the air with Arkadi.

As professional as always, he already knew the name of the posh downtown hotel that Torrance Harding was staying at while he filmed his latest segment for his show. Nerves threatened to overtake me, so I asked Vlad to do a mock interview with me to practice.

I’d already rewatched several episodes, taking note of the kinds of questions Torrance asked, and how the other chefs answered.

“Just be yourself,” Vlad said in his clipped accent.

“Were you a teen blogger in another life, Vlad?” I asked. “Because that’s about the worst advice I’ve ever been given.”

“Fine,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “What do you love most about cooking?”

I put my head in my hands with a groan. “Really?”

“I’m a contract killer, not a foodie,” he said.

My head shot up to see the hint of what passed as humor on his face. He was only joking, or at least I hoped so.

“Why don’t you get yourself a drink while I go up?” I suggested as he stuck to my side like flypaper on our way through the lobby.

I pointed out the bar opposite the elevators, but he rolled his eyes and hit the button to go up. Of course, I had to show up at my first-ever interview with a world-famous critic with a bodyguard in tow. I prickled with embarrassment, but the perky, dark-haired assistant who opened the door didn’t bat an eye that a newbie chef would feel the need to have security.

The young, fit woman led us into the suite, and I was surprised to see there were two hulking men sitting on one of the couches. They rivaled Vlad in size and grave expressions. Okay, maybe Torrance was having his own troubles with an enemy, or maybe these were just other food critics who enjoyed working out as much as they loved eating. And maybe they all had indigestion.

Vlad crowded next to me, his hand on my arm and a stormy look on his face. I shook him off and stepped further into the room, eager to meet Torrance and not make a bad first impression.

“It’s fine,” I hissed to Vlad.

Except, maybe it wasn’t, because the man who came out from the next room with an expectant look on his face wasn’t Torrance Harding. Instead, it was someone I didn’t recognize at all.

Vlad sure did, though, and all hell broke loose.