Page 42 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

“Fuck,” she mutters. “Are you single?”

I laugh. “I think we found out the answer to that last night.”

Her face shows her embarrassment, but I don’t lean into it any further. I get up from the table, heading back to the fridge to gather the ingredients for the best damn bacon and eggs I know how to make. I’ve never had an audience for my cooking but, now that I do, I’m eager to get cooking again. Her reactions are adorable.

Last night was the best time I’ve had in a long time. It sure beats faceless women who I don’t know. For some reason, putting a name and a personality to the woman I’m sticking my cock inside makes it a thousand times better.

I hope that has nothing to do with love, because I’m not about to fall for that trap. I’ve worked too hard to become the man I am, only to have some pretty face take it all away. I have to keep my wits about me.

“What are your plans for today?” Bonnie asks.

I look over my shoulder, admiring the way her blue eyes light up when she speaks. If I could capture that beauty, pack it up, and hide it from the rest of the world, I would. Unfortunately, I only get three months with it, before I have to cut her loose.

“I’m going out to the shipyard, to take a look at some of the stuff that arrived at the warehouse. It’s just boring business stuff,” I explain.

“So, you’re not running around killing people every day?”

I laugh. “Who told you that I did that? This isn’t television, dear.”

She shrugs. “You killed one person, so I figured it was part of the job.”

“I don’t make a habit of it,” I reply, although that’s not entirely true. I’ve killed over a dozen people in the last decade, and many more before that. If anyone ever knew, I’d be slammed with more life sentences than I could possibly serve. Some secrets are best kept from even the closest people in your life.

I chop some potatoes, tossing them into the pan with butter and olive oil, as Bonnie watches from the table. I can feel her curious eyes on me; no doubt wondering what kind a man I really am, after what happened last night. I’m sure she’s confused as to why she even let a Mafia boss put his hands on her, but that’s only the beginning. I have no intention of cooling things down.

“Can I come with you today, to the warehouse?”

“No,” I answer flatly, without looking over my shoulder again. “Your job is to stay at the headquarters and look pretty for me.”

She laughs. “I’ve already failed at that.”

My head swivels so fast that something in my neck pops. “You’ve left the headquarters?” I growl.

She immediately shrinks in her seat. “No; I mean, I don’t look pretty. That was a joke.”

“Oh,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought you were sneaking around at night or something.”

“You said the guards might shoot me by mistake.”

“They will,” I reply. “So, stay in your bedroom. You do look pretty, by the way. I don’t know why you would say that.”

She brushes a strand of hair off her shoulder. “You think so?”

I chuckle. “Enough fishing, sweetheart. I’m not giving you any more compliments.”

“If you’re not going to give me more compliments, then at least give me more food,” she says, standing up from her chair to look at the pan of potatoes on the stove. “Are those ready yet?”

“Anything worth having takes time,” I say, holding up my finger. “Don’t rush a good thing.”

She pouts, falling back into her chair. “You’re the rushing one. Get it?”

“What?”

“Rushing. Russian,” she says, with a goofy grin.

I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Bonnie. You have lame humor down pat. I’m sure you’d make a good mother.”

Her face turns bright red in an instant. Was what I said offensive?

“Um, why do you look like you just swallowed a chili pepper?” I ask, stirring the potatoes as the oil pops in the pan.

“I’m just bad at jokes,” she blurts.

I laugh. “It’s kind of cute, in an odd sort of way. Don’t change it.”

She reaches for a glass of water, gulping it down as I finish up with breakfast. It’s nice having someone around to talk with, about things unrelated to the Mafia. Bonnie is a breath of fresh air.

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