Page 54 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

Bonnie

“The trick is to soak it in butter for a while after you cook it, and to keep the spices fresh. You don’t want to put them in right away,” Kostin says, wrapping his hand around my wrist from behind me to move me like a puppet while we cook.

His cologne mixes with the smell of the food in front of me to create my own personal heaven. What could possibly be better than leaning back into the arms of a man while preparing a delicious dinner together?

Well, it’s not really together. He’s the one doing all the work, but I’m learning, and I’m certain that in the future I’ll be good enough to make food for him. Maybe it’s instinctual, but I feel the strong urge to feed the man who fucks me.

“Easy on the salt,” Kostin whispers in my ear as he moves my hand over the seared steaks. “Food like this doesn’t need that much salt. That’s best reserved for things that don’t taste good.”

“Would I need salt?” I ask, tilting my head back against his chest and looking past his strong jaw into his eyes.

He chuckles softly. “Cream doesn’t need salt.”

“So, you’re saying that I taste good?”

“Simply delicious,” he murmurs, and it sends chills through my entire body.

I look back down at the food, only to realize that the butter we put in is starting to brown at a rapid pace. “Um, should we be worried about that?” I ask.

Kostin jumps into action, grabbing the knob near my waist and turning the heat down. Then, he guides my hand to the handle of the pan and shakes the steaks in the butter. “They’re perfect. Your timing is impeccable.”

I laugh. “It was all you, Kostin.”

“It’s okay to take some credit. I wouldn’t have enjoyed this nearly as much if it weren’t for you,” he replies. “I like teaching you things.”

My mind flashes back to the things we did in the massage room. He taught me more than I would’ve imagined a man could teach a woman, and something tells me that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The thought excites and scares me at the same time.

As the days go by, I feel less like Kostin’s employee and more like his girlfriend. Maybe it’s just a fling, and maybe he’s only using his charm to get something from me, but I seem to be getting the best out of this deal.

I think any woman would dream of having just one night with a rugged and sexy Mafia boss, like Kostin, and I’ve already had several, with many more inevitably on the way.

“Now, we season it with some pepper, if you like that,” Kostin says, drawing my attention back to the food.

“Pepper is fine.”

“Cracked black pepper. Never get the pre-ground stuff. You’d be doing yourself a huge disservice,” he explains.

“Guilty,” I say, holding up my hand sheepishly. “You’re not going to kick me out of the Mafia for that, are you?”

He squeezes my shoulder, sending a rush of goosebumps across my arms and legs. “Don’t worry, Bonnie. I wouldn’t get rid of you for anything. You’re quite special to me.”

“Special?” I ask, tilting my head back into his chest again.

“Yes,” he replies, giving me a wink. “Never doubt yourself.”

And just like that, the feelings I have for him triple in intensity. I know it’s wrong, and I know it’ll get me in trouble when my time here is over, but I can’t help it with the way he behaves. He’s more than an arrogant asshole with more charm than morals.

He’s different than the last time we met, and I can feel it in my bones whenever he’s gentle with me. Moments like this make me forget that he’s even in the Russian Mafia.

“Do you think you could teach me how to makes those breakfast potatoes next?” I ask as he turns the heat off on the stove.

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, Bonnie.”

I turn around and tilt my head to the side, looking up at him in earnest. “Anything?”

A smile lifts the side of his mouth. “Anything, my darling.”

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