Page 3

What was going on? Should I have been flattered by all this attention or downright terrified? Did Mr. Fokin actually just say I was his wife?

Nothing like this ever happened to me back home, that was for sure. Both of the men currently facing off over me were incredibly intimidating, and it seemed like Mr. Fokin knew at least some of the things Kerri had filled me in about Arkadi Mikhailov. While I was glad that he wasn’t yanking on me anymore, I was beginning to feel the stares of the other diners.

Khoroshiy was as upscale as restaurants got, with reservations booked months in advance. The prices were eye-watering, and the patrons expected the best. Not a brawl that was more suited to outside a gas station, no matter that the brawlers were decked out in designer clothes.

After my furious boss told Arkadi he needed to leave, he started to tug me back to the kitchen, and since I hated every second of the curious eyes on us, I had little choice but to comply. And I wanted Arkadi far, far away from me. I didn’t like the look on his face one little bit when he put his hands on me and made his sneering offer again. I wasn’t thrilled with being dragged away like I had anything to do with the scene, either.

Once we were in the kitchen, all this would be over, and I could get my temper under control before I did something stupid and lost the job I wanted to keep. Speaking of stupidity, Arkadi must have either had balls of steel or been as dumb as a box of rocks because he actually followed us, albeit at a distance.

Right before Mr. Fokin pulled me through the kitchen doors, Arkadi called down the hallway.

“My offer stands. I can give you a position, and much more .”

A knowing smirk was on his face. Was he alluding to the marriage that didn’t exist? It made my skin crawl the way he gave me another once over before finally getting the hell out. I couldn’t believe I actually thought he was handsome when I first saw him.

Pressing my lips together to keep from calling out something rude, I let myself get dragged into the kitchen, where the doors swung closed behind us. As if sensing something was up, the remaining kitchen staff scattered.

It was clear that Mr. Fokin was pissed, but I didn’t think it was at me, as he was looking me over with concern, taking my hands and checking for marks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as if I’d been through something much worse than just an uncomfortable situation.

“I’m perfectly fine, and I was about to handle that without half the diners gawking,” I snapped.

Okay, I didn’t have time to get myself together and the frustration had just flowed out. Instead of going full grumpy like he normally would, my boss just raised an eyebrow at me. That’s right, my boss, and I would do well to remember that.

“Is that guy really all that dangerous?” I asked, much more meekly.

He continued to look at me, his eyes narrowing. “ Yes ,” he growled, continuing to blaze me with those dark blue eyes before turning and stalking out.

Holy crap. That was more intense than Arkadi’s bizarrely threatening offer. I had never been so glad that Jeremy hadn’t been hanging around listening to the embarrassing scene because our host lived for gossip. Mr. Fokin blurted out the lie that we were married to get rid of Arkadi, which would have spread through the kitchen like an out-of-control grease fire.

With shaking hands and a pounding heart, I got through the rest of the shift, helping out with chores I normally didn’t bother with, just to have something to take my mind off of things. I wasn’t used to conflict. Even with my parents, who were constantly on my back and trying to wear me down, I learned to just let it all flow off me. The greatest thing I ever did to defy them was move out here on my own, without ever giving them the chance to argue. I could not let something like a weird customer ruin this for me.

“You coming out with us tonight?” Kerri asked.

She and some of the other staff were huddled together, looking excited to blow off some steam after another demanding shift. They went out together several nights a week and I had joined them a couple times, but LA was expensive.

I rubbed my fingers together. “Penny pinching this week,” I said, waving as they took off.

In truth, I was still a bit shaken up and wanted to get under the covers with a Real Housewives rerun on my ancient laptop. That was the kind of drama I liked, when it was far away from my reality.

I leaned against one of the gleaming countertops, surveying my domain, the only place I ever felt at home. This kitchen was nothing like any I’d ever cooked in, even putting culinary school to shame with everything being top-of-the-line and ultra-high quality. Every night, I took pride in helping to scrub the cooktops until they sparkled and making sure everything was where it needed to be. It was so difficult to believe this wasn’t a dream, and I made the promise to find Mr. Fokin tomorrow to apologize for snapping at him.

My heart flipped over when I saw him leaning against the wall near the back exit, his arms crossed. I guess I didn’t have to wait until tomorrow, but the task left a sour taste in my mouth. I still wasn’t over being dragged around like a rag doll and having him assume I couldn’t handle myself.

“I’m walking you to your car,” he said before I could make myself say I was sorry for anything.

“There’s no need for that,” I said, feeling a lot less apologetic by the second.

He uncrossed his arms and opened the door. “I’m still doing it.”

Damn it. This was mortifying. I had just about the junkiest junker to ever barely squeak past inspection, and I didn’t want him to see it.

I put my chin up. “I’m perfectly fine to walk twenty yards to where my car is parked, Mr. Fokin.”

“Call me Nik,” he said, not noticing my display of bravery, because he was scowling out into the parking lot. “Damn it,” he muttered.

I scurried forward to peer out, and he jutted out a hand to stop me from getting in front of him. A fancy sports car sat a little ways outside the exit, and the street lamps illuminating the parking lot showed Arkadi sitting behind the wheel. His smirk was clear as day, even in the dim light. What in the heck was wrong with this guy? Without an ounce of shame, he was staring straight at us. I’d have to pass within five feet of his car to get to my own.

Fear had me slinking closer to Mr. Fokin, whose arm was still held up in front of me. “Um, okay, Nik , maybe you can walk me to my car, after all,” I said.

I was going to warn him not to get into an altercation, or suggest we go out the front and walk around, but the next thing I knew, I wasn’t being led toward my car, but swept into Nik’s arms.

His very strong arms. One of his hands swept up my back, leaving a trail of heat behind. He tangled his fingers in my hair, tugging on my ponytail until my head tipped back. His eyes blazed down at me, and a slight smile lifted his lips. Then, those lips crashed down on mine.

This was a kiss. This was happening. But why was it happening? And still happening. For a split second, I stood frozen under the onslaught of sensations. I could still feel his hand on my back, his warm fingers now cupped the back of my neck as his lips moved sinuously over mine. Before I knew it, he had teased my mouth open, a crack with his tongue, and I had to grab onto his shirt to keep from collapsing. It felt like I’d been tossed out of an airplane; my pulse was racing so fast.

His free hand snaked around my waist and pulled me flush with his rock-hard body. There were no two ways around it; I was making out with my boss. How? Why? I didn’t know, but I was starting to get into it, completely forgetting everything around me. The little crush I’d been squashing down every time it tried to rise up was standing and cheering this strange phenomenon.

His chest felt so good pressed against my breasts that I let my hands work their way up to his shoulders, hanging on as he kept teasing my lips with his tongue. The bones in my legs were melting, but he had a firm grip around my waist, his hand at my neck hot and firm.

I pushed a bit closer and felt… something twitch. Something as rock-hard as his chest. With a gasp, I clamped my mouth shut and leaned back, trying to get my eyes to focus. Before I could recover and die of embarrassment and confusion, before I could slap Nik and ask what in the hell he thought he was doing, I was swept up into his arms and carried away.

Right past Arkadi’s car, but not to mine. Instead, I was tossed onto the front seat of another very fancy car, definitely not mine. The second my feet hit the floor, I scrambled to open the door on my side, but the locks clicked, and the engine roared to life. With a stern look on his face, as if he hadn’t just turned me to jelly with that insane kiss, Nik reached across me to pull my seatbelt into place.

Okay, okay, this was fine. He was going to drive me around to my car and make sure I got in safely. The reason for the kiss could be worked out later.

Nik pulled out of the parking lot as smooth as freshly melted butter and sped off into the night. I had no idea where he was going, but it only took two seconds to realize it wasn’t to my car.