Page 21 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“Well,” she drawled out, “I was going to speak to him, get him to notice me and stuff, but I remembered you said never to make the first move at men, so I stayed out.”

“You don’t get to use me as an excuse this time. Whatever happened to the mega mind behind my success?”

“She takes a break once in a while. But damn, his shoulders, I swear I could sit on them. So wide and strong and gorgeous.” She was practically moaning into my phone.

“When was the last time you got laid, Viv?”

“My vibrator broke down, and I’ve been too lazy to go get another one.”

“Too lazy or too shy?” I asked, recalling the last time she got one. She hid in the car the whole time while I went into the store and got everything for her.

Satisfied with the texture of my batter, I oiled my pan and poured the first scoop of my mix into it, sprinkling a handful of chocolate chips on it.

“And Viv, when I asked about getting laid, I was talking about being touched by another human and not a vibrating silicone device,” I added, flipping my pancake to the other side.

“You don’t get to lecture me about men and human connections, Arielle. When was the last time touching someone ever meant a thing to you?”

Her accusation was followed by a vivid image of Mikhail’s head between my thighs. I guess we were all ruined in our unique ways, with Vivian scared of physical intimacy and me using intimacy as a weapon. As much as I craved human connections, letting people in has always been a bit of a challenge to me. I always felt once the thrill was over and they settled to get to know me, they’d find nothing interesting and leave just like my parents had. So, I settled into using it as a weapon. That way, I wasn’t exposed to the vulnerabilities that came with intimacy.

“I have an excuse, Viv. My job is a bit too dangerous for love. What is your excuse? You work from home. You have the least threatening career, and not to mention, all the time in the world.” I shot back and was met with complete silence on the other side of the phone.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Have you heard from Mikhail?” she asked, changing the topic.

“Nope, but someone in my office told me his secretary came asking for me,” I replied, pouring in a second batch of my pancakes.

I could hear the nod in her response, “That’s good.”

“Yeah, I just need Father to—”

My sentence was cut short by the aggressive alarm of my doorbell filling the space.

“Expecting someone?” Vivian asked.

My eyebrows furrowed suspiciously as I turned off the gas and made my way to the window. “Nope. I’ve got to go, Viv. Talk later.” I clicked the end button without waiting for a response.

I discreetly pulled the curtains to the side, stretching my neck to catch a glimpse of who was outside. Save for Vivian and the occasional delivery guys, I never get any visitors at all, not even Father, and last I checked, I was not due for any deliveries.

The doorbell rang again, almost startling me this time. I rushed into my room, pulled out my tab, quickly connected to the CCTV at my doorpost, and was met with the Saturday surprise of the year. Mikhail stood at my door in all his three-piece glory with a bouquet of flowers the size of my smallest couch in his hands. I watched as he struggled to ring the bell a third time with the flowers blocking his hands. The bastard must’ve told his driver to park where I couldn’t see. Jokes on him. I was always prepared. I made my way back to the door, feigning complete surprise at the sight. “What are you doing here? Who gave you my address?”

Standing there with the flowers, he looked very different from the powerful man I was used to seeing. You could easily mistake him for a regular dude coming to woo a woman. Even the air around him was slightly different. I’m tempted to say he looked humble, but that doesn’t strike me like the right word to describe Mikhail Ivanov, even when he was making an effort to look that way. The subtle air of authority always simmered beneath whatever he was exuding.

His reply was careful and polite, as though he was scared of saying the wrong thing. “I came to see you, and I was hoping you’d join me for lunch.”

I moved my gaze from him to the flowers and back to him, observing how he seemed to be balancing his weight on one leg. It was obvious how out of his element he was. This was his first time doing this, and while the knowledge of that did something for my self-esteem, I maintained a blank face.

“You didn’t answer the second question.”

“I have my means,” he added, holding my gaze.

Since the cat was already out of the bag, he probably figured it was no use making excuses or lying.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mikhail, but I’ll pass on lunch,” I said, injecting a bit of caution into my voice. I made a show of glancing around my neighborhood and waving at random passers-by to show him I was scared of being alone with him.

“How about you show me where to put these then?” He requested, holding up the flowers with a lopsided smile.

The smooth bastard probably thought he could talk his way into any place. I opened my mouth to tell him I could carry the flowers in myself, but he beat me to it.

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