Page 29 of Grumpy Puck

Was that a proposition?My gaze darts at the bulge in his pants, and I swallow thickly.“This conversation is over.”

He cocks his head.“Shouldn’t we do something for the cameras?”

I swallow again.“Like what?”

He closes the distance between us.“Like this.”He takes my face into his hands and kisses me, ruthlessly, like I belong to him.

My panties go the way of the Wicked Witch of the West when doused with a bucket of water—they full-on melt, and so do I.

In the distance, I hear cameras click, and the sounds remind me that this is just for show.

Fuming, I push him away.

“See you tomorrow,” he says.

“Go suck a dick.”

He actually smiles at that, and his smile is as panty-melting as his kiss.“The Russian expression is go ‘to’the dick.Not ‘suck’ a dick.”

“And the difference is?”

“‘Go to the dick’ almost literally translates to ‘go to hell.’”

I arch an eyebrow.“So you’re saying your dick is hell?”

“No,ptichka,” he murmurs.“For you, my dick will be heaven.”

Chapter10

Calliope

When I get home in my Hitler-inspired car, the first thing I do is reunite Wolfgang with the rest of the rat pack.Then I fix all of us some food.

Once Lenin is done eating a frozen grape, he starts doing zoomies around the whole apartment.

Tovarisch, this is the food of the bourgeoisie, and it is having its corrupting influence on the proletari-rat .

Ignoring his antics, I stare at myself in the mirror long and hard.

“The kiss was just for the pictures,” I remind myself.

“But then why did it feel so good?”my mirror self asks very reasonably.

“Because you’re a dummy.Because you’re not careful with?—”

My phone rings, which is just as well because if I talk to myself any longer, my rats will have me committed.

It’s a video call from Seraphina.

I accept it with a smile.For a change, she’s not hanging from the ceiling.

“Hey, former roomie,” I say.“Miss me already?”

“Yeah, right.I just need to get up to speed because all your other siblings are inundating me with questions about you and your hockey player.”

“Myother siblings?”I let the “my hockey player” bit slide.“Don’t you meanour?”

She flashes the super-healthy teeth that she allegedly inherited from our great-great-grandfather, the one famous for his razor-blade chewing and sword swallowing.“Semantics.Now, spill.”

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