Page 86 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at the food on my plate. It all seemed fine. Maybe it wasn’t the best, but it was edible, at least.

“Nothing,” Adrik insisted, drinking the water Yuri handed him. “Everything is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her.” Yuri finished half of his water. “It’s terrible.”

“What!” Okay, I’d already established I wasn’t a chef, but their dramatics were a bit much.

“It’s… sweet,” Yuri explained, poking the blini with his fork.

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “The recipe called for sugar.”

“And you didn’t think to omit it if you made savory blini?” Adrik asked, incredulous.

I lifted a brow at him. “I told you I couldn’t cook, but you insisted I make dinner. I followed the damn recipe Yuri gave me. If you don’t like it, you only have yourselves to blame.”

“It just seems like common sense…” Adrik trailed off.

I leaned forward, my palms on the table. “Look, I spent years in medical school surviving on dry ramen. Don’t expect five-star service. I can burn water.”

“I kind of expected you not to poison us,” Yuri muttered under his breath.

“Hey,” I protested. “I made sure that meat was cooked well. I know all about food poisoning.”

“You killed the cow twice,” he said grimly. “And cremated it.”

“That’s it.” I dropped my fork, leaving my blini untouched. I sure as hell wouldn’t eat it after their reactions. “Never ask me to cook again.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” Adrik murmured, piling sour cream on his dinner until all you could see was white. He took a bite, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could. “It’s not so bad with the sour cream.”

Yuri didn’t look convinced, but he drowned his blini and took a tentative bite, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“You’re both terrible liars,” I huffed, leaning back in my chair.

Adrik shook his head and pointed his fork at me. “Come on, Olesya. You can’t blame us.”

“I can, and I will,” I shot back, shoving my chair away from the table. Stalking to the kitchen, I looked for something else to eat other than my culinary failure. I pulled an apple from the fridge and returned to the table, plopping down in my chair and taking a large bite of the fruit. Hopefully, having my mouth full would keep me from spewing insults at them.

Yuri’s phone vibrated, and he reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and waved it in the air. “Ilya.”

He left the table to take the call in the living room, and I kept munching on my apple. Adrik watched me carefully as he choked down his food, sighing in relief when he finished his last bite. That reprieve didn’t last long because Yuri returned to the table bearing bad news.

“Another drop got hit by the Italians,” he said without fanfare.

“Fuck,” Adrik swore, slamming his fist on the tabletop. “Fucking Italians. They’re everywhere!”

“I wonder why?” I feigned innocence and munched on my apple. “What could you have possibly done to piss Dante off? Oh, wait, that’s right. You stole his wife.”

“We rescued you,” Adrik countered with a glare. “And you’ve been nothing but ungrateful.”

“Because I didn’t need to be rescued!” I exploded, chucking my apple at his head.

Adrik deftly blocked the fruit, and it bounced off his hand, rolling across the table. “You can’t possibly love a man who would hurt you, Olesya.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, clasping my hands before me. “I love a man who loves me. Dante didn’t hurt me. Not like you’re thinking.”

“Then explain it because I don’t understand,” he said, frustrated. Yuri looked between us, trying to determine who would win the argument.

“That picture you have,” I started. They wouldn’t like my explanation. “It led to a kiss. I like it when Dante touches me like that.”

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