Page 41 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

Kostin

Every morning at six, I eat a full breakfast. I believe that a good meal is necessary to start the day. I’ve seen people survive on coffee and water until lunch, but I never know when I’m going to need the energy of real food in my system. Action tends to come when I least expect it.

Usually, I eat my breakfast alone - so that I can have a clear mind going forward. Today, however, I’m joined by Bonnie, and she seems entirely too full of questions for someone who just woke up.

“Are you paying me by bank wire or cash?” she asks, cocking her head to the side as I lift a forkful of potatoes to my mouth. She doesn’t seem phased by what happened last night. I thought she’d be shy, but apparently, I was wrong.

“Cash,” I answer before eating my potatoes.

“Oh,” she says, her expression sinking faster than an iron fishing weight. “I was hoping you’d pay by bank wire. You know, or direct deposit. That’s more in line with what I’m used to.”

“You’re used to working at a strip club,” I answer bluntly. “You only use cash.”

“I mean before that,” she says, turning a darker shade of pink. “If I’m working a regular job, I’d like it to come to my bank.”

“Why?” I ask, curious as to what she could be up to now. It’s an odd request to make, when she’s been happy dealing with cash up until now.

“Maybe I could buy things online,” she says with an odd smile. “You could check the packages beforehand. I’m not buying anything weird or dangerous.”

“No,” I reply. “Besides, you’re not permitted to know the address to the headquarters. That’s confidential, and your stay here is only three months.”

“Can I still have a bank wire, though?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “I have bills to pay, unless you want me going to the bank with that cash.”

I let out a long sigh, looking down at my potatoes and wondering if I should’ve just left Bonnie at the club after I killed Jerry. Maybe she would’ve just kept her mouth shut and that would’ve been the end of it, but something compelled me to bring her with me.

Something stupid.

“Alright,” I say, looking back up at her and watching her face light up with an attractive smile. “But it won’t be coming from me. I don’t want you knowing my bank info.”

“Of course, not,” she says, now eyeing my food. I predict her request before she can make it.

“Try some,” I say, sliding my plate toward her.

“Did you make these?” she asks, her eyes glowing with hunger.

It’s early in the morning, and I’m surprised she’s up, but she wouldn’t stop banging on her door until I let her out to join me for breakfast. I guess she was just hungry. The only thing she ate last night was my cum.

“I cook all of my own food. I don’t trust chefs,” I reply.

“Why not?”

“They could poison it,” I reply with a wry grin.

Or they could put whatever weird shit Jerry was working on in his basement in it, and blow me to bits after a plate of pancakes.

Bonnie scoops a large portion of potatoes into her mouth and her eyes go wide almost instantly. “These are good,” she says, as though it was a surprise.

“I’ve been cooking for myself all my life. I would hope they were good,” I reply, shaking my head.

“You’re not getting these back,” she says, shoveling more of the steaming potatoes into her mouth and swallowing them without chewing. I could imagine her pregnant with my babies, eating to her heart’s content every day. It would be cute, cooking for her, but that’ll stay a distant daydream. I’m in no position to make babies with a woman I barely know.

Once Bonnie finishes the plate, she looks around as though it weren’t enough to satisfy her hunger.

“Need something else?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” she says eagerly. “I haven’t eaten a proper meal since forever. I’ve been living off boxed mac and cheese.”

I laugh. “Welcome to paradise, then, darling. I’ll cook you up some eggs and bacon.”

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