Page 21 of The Mistake

Pushing the past aside, I focused on my wife and my boss. Both seemed to share a secret smile. This was new. What the fuck was going on? I knew my wife hadn’t cheated, and that wasn’t Ivan’s game, but I didn’t like feeling out of the loop.

“The key, my dear, with all things, is tohave a little patience. If you have that, then everything else is a piece of cake.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I see what you did there and don’t thinkfor a second you can leave before you show me your famous lemon cake.”

Ivan winked at Charlotte. They were sharing a secret moment. I couldn’t help but watch the two of them. This was the first time Charlotte had come out of her shell.

Three women came out of the kitchen and put plates in front of each of us. Staring down at the food, I saw a huge bowl of pasta with what appeared to be spaghetti sauce and meatballs. I’m not going to lie, I’m not a big pasta fan. I’m more of a meat-and-potatoes lover. Pasta was okay, but I hadn’t eaten it in a long time.

“Eat up, Ive. Your beautiful wife made this.”

“You made this?”

“Yeah, it’s, er, it’s my favorite meal. I wasn’t going to cook for you but Ivan insisted that I do.”

I also noticed she referred to him as Ivan. Most women were quaking in their boots around Ivan, and yet Charlotte seemed comfortable. In fact, she appeared more comfortable with him than she did with me. I wasn’t the one who’d married her off. That was all Ivan’s idea.

Picking up my fork and knife, I slice into a meatball, and it did appear to be buttery soft. I pierced it with my fork and then took a bite. Flavors exploded across my tongue and I couldn’t help but close my eyes at the taste. They were delicious, and considering I didn’t like meatballs, this was indeed a shock to me. I finished the meatball and decided to try the pasta. It was the first time I actually enjoyed the meal.

“What do you think?” Ivan asked.

“It’s delicious.”

“You know, Charlotte happens tolove Italian food,” Ivan said.

Turning my attention to Charlotte, I see her offering Ivan a smile. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’m surea lot of people love Italian food.”

“True, true. A lot of people do, but it just sohappens we have an Italian restaurant. I’ll put a word in with the chef, and I’d love for you to visit sometime.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“It would be nice to see you and Ive going out on a date. It’s not healthy to stay in this big house all the time.”

“I don’t mind this big house. Honestly.” Charlotte kept avoiding my eyes.

On my way to this dining room, I’d already spotted the sticky notes on my office door.Hubert had informed me my wife explored the house and because of how big it was, she placed sticky notes letting her know which rooms she’d already been in. She hadn’t extended this into the gardens, but according to her guard, she liked to go out walking, not too far from the house. She also enjoyed taking a book out to the lawn, sitting down on a blanket, or lying down, and reading for hours.

Ivan kept up the conversation, drawing me and Charlotte into discussions about food, what we liked and disliked. Charlotte hated peas of all kinds. She also had an aversion to cauliflower and she hated the taste of raw onion. For me, I had no dislike of any food. There were some I enjoyed more than others, like meat and potatoes, but it didn’t stop me from eating.

After the mainmeal, Charlotte disappeared into the kitchen and came back holding a tray. There were three small plates with biscuits on each, beautifully presented.

“Charlotte, that is cheating,” Ivan said. “Go and get your biscuits. I’m sure Ive would like to try them.”

She disappeared a second time.

“Not that I have aproblem with it, Ivan, but why are you here?”

“As you know, when the Bratva faces problems, I’m always aware. I think it’s time we talked about important matters.”

Charlotte returned carrying a platewith three more biscuits, only these didn’t look uniform or out of a box. These were different sizes and shapes, and they didn’t look great. They were homemade.

“I totally understand if you don’t want to try them,” Charlotte said.

“Then it’s his loss,” Ivan said, taking a biscuit and immediately having a bite. “Because they’re delicious.”

I wasn’t going to have my wife liking Ivan more. Taking a biscuit, I put it on my plate and sliced my knife through the center. I wasn’t a big fan of pasta or meatballs, but I did happen to love a sweet treat and some cream.

Charlotte had brought two small bowls with her, one with jam, the other with cream. Spreading jam onto both sides, I then added some cream so every bite had some of what I wanted. The biscuit was buttery, soft, and not too sweet. The jam fixed the sweetness for me, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open as I released a tiny moan. It had been a long time since food had made me do this. Food was merely fuel to me. I liked good food, but this was different. This was delicious and mouthwatering, and I couldn’t quite contain myself with the taste. It was so good.

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