Page 29 of Mafia Christmas Vows

Mentally, I thank Elena for giving me the hint about coffee as a way to break the awkward silence.

I turn, offering it to her. “I heard you like very sweet coffee.”

She flushes. It’s a pretty expression that makes my eyes trace the blush down the smooth column of her throat, and fantasizeabout where it disappears into the soft cream of her sweater. “Elena keeps saying that, but I swear I just like a regular amount of sweetness.”

“Americans tend to take their coffee sweeter than Russians.”

“Well, if by that you mean that I don’t like it strong enough to strip paint, then yeah,” she murmurs.

I laugh.

I can’t help it. Magdalena’s quick wit is very much entertaining to me.

Her eyes round a little at my laughter, as though she’s surprised by it.

My chest sinks. Does she really think me such a monster?

You’re the bigger monster.

I shake off the thought. Offering the mug, I tilt my head. “Do you want it?”

After a moment, she nods. “Let me see what you’re working with here.” She takes the cup from my fingers, and I note that she’s careful not to brush against me as she does so.

Is she repulsed by me?

Doubt cuts through me.

Still, I watch as she takes the cup and presses it to her lips. I have to look away as she drinks, because seeing her perfect plump lips makes my mind wander to other uses for them.

Or how they felt underneath mine as she yielded so sweetly to my kiss.

“Okay. You might have done something good here,” she says, her voice throaty.

I train my gaze back on her.

Magdalena sips again, her eyes closing. “This is good.”

“I aim to please.”

I hadn’t intended the statement to be quite so… enticing.

But the way her eyes snap open and meet mine, I fully see how she interpreted it that way.

My lips curl slightly in satisfaction.

“Well. I guess mission accomplished,” she whispers.

Elena bustles into the kitchen then, and the tension breaks.

We both sit, and Elena provides a delicious breakfast of blini and preserved fruits. Elena and Magdalena chatter while we eat, and I can’t help but consider how… domestic this is.

And with the snow, falling in sheets and hissing slightly against the windows?

It is just as Elena described.

Peaceful.

While I have not necessarily felt chaotic, or frantic, or any other word that stands opposite of this peaceful feeling, I do notice now how nice it is.

---