Page 192 of Silenced

I already knew that money talks, but living that truth is insane.

We’re supposed to be away for five days. Which means I’ll have a full-fledged kitchen setup infivedays.

Crazy.

“I want color options,” I bargain.

He nods. “Of course.”

I’m not entirely sure why he looks so satisfied, but hell, I just got a test kitchen out of it.

“We can make a studio too. For you to photograph the food. With your blog, you can use…”

And that’s how, over the next twenty minutes, Nikolai has agreed to set aside an office, a studio,anda test kitchen on the second floor.

He’s also confirmed that he’ll use his contacts to get me a publishing deal which, to be honest, doesn’t feel too much like nepotism because, with my blog and social media accounts, I think I’d have been a shoo-in for a publishing contract anyway.

It’s only when we land and we’re driving into the city that I realize what just happened.

I grab his uninjured hand. “By the time we’re back home if you can make me a test kitchen and a photo studio, then you can have those cameras removed from the bedroom.”

He thought I’d forget—the cheeky shit!

A soft gleam appears in his eyes. “Is there nothing I can put past you,solnyshko?”

Sure, there’s plenty. But I still tip up my chin. “Nothing,radnoy. Nothing.”

His nose crinkles. “Russian lessons, too.”

I pout. “I learned that for you.”

His smile is slow burn hell on my body. “Meelyi,” he corrects. “That means loved one.Radnoyyou would use with your father.”

Well, that explains why Mom never used that on Papa.

Frickin’ Dmitri—he was the one who taught me that.

“Ah, understood.Meelyi.”

He coaches me on the correct pronunciation, but his smile has twisted into a grin as I finally perfect it.

He graces me with a kiss in celebration then, against my lips, murmurs, “While I’m busy with my brothers…” He hands me a black Amex. “You will need clothes and things for this new endeavor of yours.”

I smirk at the card. “You trust me with this?”

“I trust you with my life,solnyshko.”

That has my smirk dying as I ask, “Why? I could run away tomorrow.”

I’m surprised when not a single flash of anger blasts into his expression. But his voice is deeper than usual as he rasps, “You would break my soul if you did, but I don’t think you will. Around me, you are an Oskal.Predator, not prey.” He kisses my knuckles. “Around me, you are the woman you were born to be.”

He’s right.

His love isn’t a cage. It’s a safe space. A place where I can be me. Where the woman I should always have been is celebrated.Revered.

“If I ran, would you hunt me down?” I question, but I already know the answer.

He hesitates, and I can see the fightinhim, then he says, “I am not Harvey Rundel.”

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