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That fucker actually waited around more than an hour to mess with my woman. I shouldn’t have been so shocked. Arkadi’s reasoning was probably to call my bluff, because if one of the sons of the leading Bratva family in California got married, of course, word would have gotten back to my archnemesis.

I probably should have been grateful to him because it gave me the opportunity to finally taste Emerson. And God, was she sweet. I’d been fully prepared to do nothing more than make sure she got home all right, but then that asshole had to be smirking at her like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

My mind went blank, and my lips were on hers to make him see that I wasn’t bluffing. Far from it. She was mine and no one messed with what was mine. The kiss had to happen. What I wasn’t expecting was how electric her reaction to it was. For a moment, both of us were lost in each other. It was hotter than hell and dangerous.

Because her lush lips and the way her soft body melted so eagerly against me made me forget where I was. And forget who was watching us.

There were no depths Arkadi wouldn’t stoop to in order to mess with me. Our enmity had been going on too long, and we were both bored with the tentative peace between our families. My brothers would kill me if I started the war they’d been keeping at bay, but I was not letting him get his hands on Emerson.

Who had finally found her voice again and was demanding to be let out of the car. Immediately.

“I’m going fifty,” I said, grinning at her. She scowled back at me and tried the door handle again. “You want to go flying down the side of the road?”

“Stop the car and let me out,” she said through gritted teeth. Perfect teeth, my tongue had rolled across not so long ago. I felt another twitch in my pants and turned my attention back to the road.

“Not going to happen,” I said.

“Mr. Fokin!” she shouted.

“Nik,” I reminded her, trying not to smile again.

God, she was extra gorgeous when she was spitting mad, just like I had imagined she would be. The taste of her on my lips was making it hard to concentrate. My initial reasoning for grabbing her and kissing her had been to make Arkadi buy the story that Emerson and I were married. In truth, I’d been wanting to kiss the cook since the day she walked into my restaurant.

So shy, but determined and confident. Basically, the woman of my dreams, who I had been about to give up on ever actually existing. Completely capable of everything I threw at her. But she needed my help on this one, even though she refused to believe it right now.

“Where are we going?” she demanded. “What is going on?”

She was nearing hysteria, and I reached over and patted her hand. “I’ll explain everything when you’re safe at my compound,” I said.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to your… compound,” she said, swiping her hand away from mine.

I only gave her a brief look, which said otherwise. “You should know that Arkadi Mikhailov wasn’t actually offering you a job,” I said. “At least not as a chef, anyway.”

She crossed her arms and turned to look out the window, falling silent for the rest of the ride. It wasn’t long since I lived in a very exclusive gated community not too far from my Beverly Hills restaurant. No one would get past the gate guard, and even if they did, I had my own personal army guarding my place.

At the first gate, I rested my hand lightly on her leg, giving her a glance.

“What will happen if I scream bloody murder?” she asked tartly.

“I don’t know. You can go ahead and try if you like.”

When Anthony greeted me cheerfully and waved me through, she pressed her lips together and seethed. I wanted to tell her how much I was enjoying the way her breasts rose and pressed against her chef coat, but I didn’t really want her to have an aneurysm. I was enjoying myself way too much, and it was a pleasant vacation despite everything being so serious all the time.

The thing was, though, this was serious. Arkadi was a fucking monster and hated my guts, as well as wanting to take down my entire family to make Los Angeles his sole territory. Just like me, he wasn’t good at sharing. He was very good at stealing, though, and I wasn’t letting him get a chance to make a grab for Emerson. Whether she liked it or not, there was a target on her back. I may have been the one to put it there with my little lie, but that just meant I had to be the one to remove it.

Once we were past my private gate and I had pulled up to the front door, Emerson spotted the guard off to the side and dug in her heels.

“I’m not getting out,” she said, grabbing the sides of her seat and hanging on. “I absolutely, flatly refuse to get out.”

“Fine with me,” I said, hiding another grin at her shocked look.

Did she think I’d leave her in the car all night? No, this was just another chance to get that perfect body of hers back into my arms.