Page 85 of Sinful Bride

He offers me a lopsided smile. “Depends on how serious you consider customer service to be. It’s just some client complaining about a wrong shipment. Wants to speak to the manager, that whole bit.”

“Better arrive armed, then. I’ve been in some of those lines. People get intense.”

My little joke does what I need it to do: ease the tension by making him chuckle. He’s been so attentive to us since the birth and wedding, delegating Bratva business to Sofi and their men, that this is the first significant call in to work we’ve had as a married couple.

Pasha pulls me close and kisses my brow. “I’ll be back before you know it. Maybe with some of that ice cream you’ve been talking about.”

“The triple chocolate volcano overload custard?” I grab a dish towel and whip it at his ass. “Get going! Go do your boss thing! Mama needs her chocolate!”

He laughs, and kisses Taty’s cheek before ducking out.

It’s harder than I would’ve expected to hear that front door shut behind him. I’ve never really processed the reality that any one of these departures could be his last…

Until now.

No. He’s too good, too strong, too clever for that. He wouldn’t be the man in charge if he wasn’t the best.

And now, to keep repeating that in my mind for the rest of the evening…

“Alright, Tatty-Matty-Patty, what should we make for dinner?” As if on cue, I hear rustling coming from Pasha’s office and feel myself smile. “And am I cooking for three?”

Lev’s voice calls back, “I’ll never turn down your food, Mrs. Chekhov!”

“For the last time, it’s Daphne!”

“As you wish, Mrs. Chekhov!”

I keep telling him, and my other guards, to just treat me like a normal human being—but they insist on acting like I’m some matriarch or queen or I don’t know. Someone they’re not allowed to be informal with.

I also have a suspicion that Pasha prefers to hear my new married name just to stroke his ego.

“How does pad thai sound?” I tickle Taty’s tummy on my way to the fridge. “I grabbed a few of those kits from the store. I’m not quite at ‘from scratch’ level yet, but these look amazing.”

I’ve got the packs on the counter and I’m reading the cooking instructions when I hear the doorbell ring. Being an apartment building, whoever it is must be waiting downstairs in the lobby.

“Lev?” I call out to him to ask if he’d grab that for me. “Could you?—”

“Package,” he confirms with a small wave of his phone as he walks by the kitchen entryway. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks. I’m making pad thai, by the way.”

He gives me a funny look. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had that before.”

“Prepare to have your tastebuds rocked.”

He chuckles and continues to leave for package retrieval when I remember something important.

“Hey, Lev? If it’s from my parents, please just toss it. Or give whatever it is to someone who could use it. I don’t want whatever they’re trying to send.”

“You got it. And lock the door behind me, yeah? Just in case.”

I frown. “Do you think they’d try to get up here?”

Lev shakes his head again, this time dead serious. “There’s no telling what crazy people will do. Better to be safe than sorry.”

I wipe my hands on the dish towel and follow him to the door. He has a point.

With Lev gone and the door locked, I return to my pseudo-cooking in the kitchen. It seems easy enough. Just add some sesame oil to a pan, add the noodles and sauce, let it cook for four minutes…

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