Page 85 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Time for the next generation to rise.

Hostile takeover.

It would have to wait until I had Olesya in my arms again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As a child, I’d never realized I lived in a gilded cage. My father showered me with pretty dresses, more toys than a girl could ask for, and plenty of diversions. I thought it was freedom to have everything and for my father to let me follow my every whim. In reality, I’d been a puppet on invisible strings, and had I shown the slightest inclination to run, he likely would have locked the door and thrown away the key.

While Adrik and Yuri weren’t as bad as my father, they had the same antiquated belief that they owned me, giving them the right to do whatever was necessary in the name of my protection. It would take a craniotome to get through their thick skulls, and neurosurgery wasn’t my specialty.

Sighing, I stared out over the city as I’d done every day since my brothers had dragged me to their modern tower. I was Rapunzel, but my prince charming would be shot on-site if he tried to climb up and rescue me. I didn’t fault Dante for not getting to me right away. He’d been wreaking havoc across the city, keeping Adrik and Yuri pissed with every building he set on fire, every drop the Neretti men interrupted. Dante could probably enter the marijuana trade with how much product he’d stolen.

I silently cheered him on whenever I heard Adrik swear vehemently in his office. He was close to his breaking point, and soon it would be worth it to sit down with the Nerettis. I did my part to pester him whenever I got the chance, which led to him spending more and more time away from the apartment.

Adrik hadn’t allowed me off the top floor since I arrived, but I learned that Bratva men occupied the other floors. It was no wonder people found the tower to be impenetrable. The building had built-in, round-the-clock security.

When my father was alive, we lived on an estate similar to the Neretti land, so seeing my brothers in the middle of the city was odd. Adrik and Yuri seemed to enjoy the city life, where they’d always wanted to get away from home and my father’s hold. I wondered if that was the overarching theme in all crime families. I didn’t know enough about the others to form an opinion.

It was no secret many women in crime families dreamed of escaping the patriarchal rule and the inherited belief that women were good for little else than alliances and breeding. That didn’t seem like such a horrible fate now that I loved my husband, but I still wouldn’t wish it on another.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and wandered to the kitchen. Adrik expected me to make dinner and left an assortment of ingredients because he said even I couldn’t fuck up blini. He greatly overestimated my skill.

I’d never roasted meat in my life, and I wasn’t a fast learner, as evidenced by my faltering skill when Martina tried to patiently teach me Antonella’s recipes. There was a slight possibility I could pull off the savory Russian pancakes.

Without access to a phone or computer, I had to make the best of the recipe Yuri slapped on the counter before he and Adrik left for the day. It was nearly five, and they usually got home after six, so I had enough time to make the blini and cook the filling.

I organized the ingredients on the counter and found a mixing bowl, measuring everything carefully, then stirring it rapidly to combine. That wasn’t so hard. I didn’t think my brothers cooked much, either because their selection of pots and pans was lacking. I found a skillet, set it on the burner to heat, and dropped a pat of butter in, waiting until it sizzled to scoop some of the batter into the pan.

Rotating the pan to spread the batter was more complicated than it looked, and I ended up with a few holes in the pancake. I looked through the drawers, searching for a spatula, as the pancake smelled a little too done. Shit.

Finally, I found the correct utensil and ran it around the rim of the pan, loosening the pancake and flipping it over. So it was a little dark. Brothers couldn’t be picky when they didn’t have the culinary skills to make their own dinner. I grabbed a large plate and flipped the blini onto it, then repeated the process at least twenty more times. Nobody would starve tonight.

Tears streamed down my face as I cut the onions, and I gave up on making it look pretty. I hacked at the veggies as fast as possible, then tossed them in the pan with more butter. Come to find out, it wasn’t quite like making a pancake. You didn’t just flip it over. No, you had to stir it, or it would blacken. That was a delicacy somewhere, right?

I dumped the onions into a bowl and grabbed a few, popping the bits into my mouth. They were still crunchy. Oh well.

The ground beef was the last thing I needed to cook, and I tossed the entire package into the hot pan, pressing it across the surface with the spatula and sprinkling a good amount of salt and pepper on top. I kept the meat moving around the pan, breaking it up with the spatula until thoroughly cooked. It might have matched that first blini in color, but again—I was no chef.

I added the onions to the meat, mixed it well, and assembled the blini. A couple of spoonfuls of the beef and onions in the middle of the pancake, then turn the sides in and roll. That was perhaps the easiest part of the whole meal prep.

The elevator chimed as I placed a few blinis on each of our plates, and my brothers strode in, sniffing the air as they removed their coats.

“It smells like… food,” Yuri said hesitantly.

I braced my hands on my hips. “I’ll have you know I worked for more than an hour with only that little piece of paper you call a recipe. You should be happy you have anything to stuff in your mouth.”

“We’re grateful,” Adrik added, lifting a hand. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

They sat at the table, waiting for me to serve them. Entitled men. I set the plates in front of them at my spot, then returned for the sour cream and flatware. My brothers eyed the blini doubtfully. “Well? Eat!”

They lurched into action, gripping their forks and digging in, stuffing their mouths with the blini. Yuri was the first to react, his eyes widening as he swallowed hard and coughed. “Water.”

“I made dinner. You can get that yourself,” I said, crossing my arms.

He coughed and ran to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass, chugging it down, and then refilling it.

“Get me one, too,” Adrik choked, covering his mouth as he coughed.

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