CHAPTER 11
IRIS
It's been about two days since the incident, and I'm doing my best to avoid him.
No late-night conversations, no eye contact if I can help it. He hasn't tried anything again, not even a simple "good morning," but the flowers keep coming anyway. Bouquets of every kind arrive at my door every morning like clockwork, with notes telling me how beautiful I look.
A small part of me hates that I appreciate the gesture.
Another part of me, maybe the honest part, feels guilty.
I punched him. Twice, sure he definitely deserved it but maybe I should cut him some slack.
So tonight, I decide I'm going to make it up to him.
In my own way. I'm not about to apologize with words, but maybe a hot meal will smooth out the tension between us.
At least enough to make things less awkward.
I roll up my sleeves and head to the kitchen. Time to cook.
***
I'm halfway through crimping the edges of a chicken pot pie when I hear a soft feminine voice behind me.
I turn around slowly, dusting away the floor on my hands.
I look towards the kitchen entrance and a tall woman standing there, she has Jet-black hair twisted into a sleek bun, long coat draped over one shoulder, heels clicking softly as she steps inside.
Her eyes are piercing, sharp and accessing and I feel stripped bare under her gaze.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, her tone neither friendly nor hostile. "Who are you?"
I straighten, forcing calm into my voice even though my heart just kicked up a notch. "I could ask you the same thing." Her gaze rakes over me slowly, unimpressed. "This is my brother's estate, and you don't look like one of the staff."
Brother. Realization dawns on me. "I'm working with Ilay on a case," I say carefully, measuring each word.
She smiles, but the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I’m Natalya. His sister." Natalya arches a brow and tilts her head slightly, studying me with renewed interest.
"Oh, so you're the lawyer he's been raving about. The one he's been chasing through the streets of Moscow, no less."
Her eyes scan me slowly, from my face down to my legs and back up again.
"You are quite lovely," she adds with a knowing smirk that makes me feel like she's in on some joke I haven't heard yet.
I shift uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how casual I look compared to her polished appearance.
She's beautiful. Dark hair twisted perfectly into place, slender frame wrapped in expensive fabric, pale skin even lighter than mine.
She looks like she belongs in a fashion magazine, not standing in a kitchen watching me make pie.
She takes a step forward, inhaling deeply.
"What's that smell?" I give a small, sheepish smile and scratch the back of my head awkwardly.
"Uh, just… chicken pot pie." She walks closer to the counter and peers at the pie sitting there.
"That's quite a large portion," she says, glancing back at me with a pointed look.
"Are you planning to eat all that yourself? You look so tiny."
Tiny?. I bite the inside of my cheek hard, forcing my expression to stay neutral.
"It's for Ilay," I mutter, barely above a whisper.
Natalya raises a brow, her lips curling into a sly smile that tells me she's enjoying this way too much.
"Ilay? Are you two dating now?" I wave my hands quickly in front of me.
"No! No, no, absolutely not. It's… it's an apology dinner.
" Her smile deepens with obvious amusement.
"Oh? And what exactly did you do that needs apologizing for? " she asks, her tone teasing.
I clear my throat and avoid eye contact completely. "Just… punched him a little." Natalya bursts into laughter, holding her stomach as she doubles over slightly. "Wow! You might be a tiny thing, but you're fearless! You remind me of an orange cat with an attitude problem."
She reaches out suddenly and gently touches a strand of my red hair, tucking it behind my ear with surprising ease and familiarity.
"I believe he'll forgive you. Especially if after this meal…
he gets that other meal." My face instantly flushes hot.
"No, n-no! I don't know what you're talking about.
We're not like that. We're not even friends yet. Just client and lawyer. That's all."
She gives me a knowing smile that says she doesn't believe a word I'm saying, then unbuttons and removes her coat in one smooth motion.
"Uh-huh. Sure." She steps fully into the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves.
"Now, let me help you with those dishes.
Though honestly, with how much my brother talks about you, I thought you'd be taller. Or at least meaner."
I blink at her. "He talks about me?"
"Constantly," she says, grabbing a dish towel from the counter.
"It's exhausting, actually. 'Iris this, Iris that.
' You'd think you discovered fire or solved world hunger or something.
" I can't help but smile a little at that image.
"So what kind of pie are we making?" she asks, peering closer at my handiwork. "Humble pie," I say flatly.
She stares at me for a beat, processing the joke, then bursts out laughing again. "Oh, I like you. You're funny. And you have guts. My brother needs someone who won't take his nonsense lying down."
"I'm not taking anything," I mutter defensively. "I'm just trying to survive this case."
"Sure you are," she says with a wink that makes me think she sees right through me.
"Now, let's get this in the oven before he gets back and thinks you're trying to poison him."
We work together, sliding the pie carefully into the oven.
While we wait for it to cook, Natalya pulls out her phone and scrolls through her music library.
Suddenly, "Judas" by Lady Gaga blasts through the kitchen speaker at full volume.
She grins wide, swaying her hips to the beat.
"Come on, dance with me!" I shake my head, laughing despite myself. "I don't dance."
"Everyone dances," she says firmly, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the open space in the middle of the kitchen. Flour is still dusted on the counter, on my apron, on my hands. She doesn't seem to care at all.
She spins me around, laughing, moving easily with the rhythm. I start laughing too, letting myself move awkwardly, letting the tension ease out of my shoulders for the first time in days.
"See?" she says, spinning again with practiced grace. "You're a natural!"
"I'm really not," I say between laughs.
Before long, the house becomes livelier.
The soft background noise of the oven timer and clattering dishes is soon joined by muffled voices from somewhere else in the house.
Deep voices, authoritative, drawing nearer.
Male voices exchanging greetings. The shuffle of feet.
The front door swinging open with a heavy thud.
Someone's arrived.
I glance over at Natalya, who's nonchalantly wiping her hands on a dish towel, looking completely unfazed by the interruption.
"I think he's back," I say, attempting to sound casual even though I can feel my heart rate quickening.
She smirks knowingly. "Looks like we should get the table set, then. "
Before I know it, my hands are moving automatically. I tell myself it's just dinner. Just a meal to say sorry. Nothing more. Definitely nothing personal.
Natalya helps out, casually talking about place settings and how Ilay can't stand it when the forks aren't aligned perfectly.
I fumble a bit with the wine glasses, nearly dropping one, but I manage to hold it together.
And then… footsteps I recognize sound towards this direction.
I swallow hard and turn just in time to see him standing in the doorway, his blue eyes scanning the room before landing on us. Or more precisely… on me. He smiles.
Natalya, in her usual elegant manner, approaches him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
"Welcome back, brother." Then, with a mischievous spark in her eye that I'm starting to recognize, she glances at me and adds, "Your little girlfriend just whipped up an apology meal for you.
Chicken pot pie. And possibly some humble pie on the side. "
I almost sputter in surprise. "I'm not his—" I begin, but Ilay raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his face widening as he casually unbuttons his coat. He looks at Natalya, then at the pie cooling on the counter. "Please tell me you had no hand in the actual preparation of this food."
Natalya gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense.
"Wow. You wound me, brother. I just assisted with the presentation. I did not try to poison you this time. Though if I was actually trying to kill you… I’d send her" Ilay finishes for her without missing a beat.
"You would have succeeded." She grins. "Exactly.
But since I believe she is not planning to murder you tonight, you're perfectly safe.
" She pauses, eyeing him with obvious amusement.
"You, on the other hand, are a suspicious character. "
I interrupt quickly before this can spiral further. "You know what? Let's just calm down. Okay? I set the table. This is what I cooked. So just sit down and eat." Ilay's gaze shifts back to me. His eyes soften just slightly, losing some of that dangerous edge.
"An apology meal?" he asks, striding toward the table, his gaze never leaving my face.
"Now that definitely has my attention." I can already feel the heat rising in my cheeks, spreading down my neck.
I step forward, stopping just beside him.
My heart is pounding hard enough that I'm sure he can hear it, but I lift my chin anyway and meet his eyes.
"Sorry for punching you in the face," I say, keeping my tone as even as possible. "But next time, don't test me."
His face twitches like he's trying not to laugh outright.
I don't give him the chance to respond. I slide into my seat and nod firmly toward the one across from me.
"Sit and eat, and no fighting your sister.
" He stares at me for a second longer, amusement passing across his features, then slowly pulls out a chair.
"No promises," he says, still smiling as he sits down across from me.
Natalya claps her hands together with obvious delight.
"Well, this is absolutely delightful. I'm staying for dinner.
" And just like that, the awkward silence ends.
***
Dinner starts off quietly. I focus on my plate, cutting into the pie with more concentration than the task actually requires. Ilay sits across from me, eating without comment, though I can feel his eyes on me every few seconds when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
Natalya, however, is having none of it. She leans back in her chair, wine glass held loosely in one hand, and studies us both with barely concealed amusement dancing in her eyes.
"So," she says casually, swirling her wine. "Iris. How long have you been working with my brother?" I glance up from my plate. "A couple weeks now."
"And in those couple weeks, has he been…
behaving himself?" I shoot her a look. "Define behaving.
" She laughs, the sound warm and genuine.
"That bad, huh?" Ilay finally speaks up.
"I've been perfectly professional." Natalya snorts into her wine glass.
"Professional? Brother, you haven't looked at a woman like this in years. Maybe ever, actually."
My cheeks warm instantly. I keep my eyes firmly on my plate.
"I mean it," Natalya continues, leaning forward conspiratorially like she's sharing state secrets.
"You should see him when you're not around.
All he talks about is you. 'Iris said this, Iris did that, Iris is brilliant, Iris is infuriating.
' Honestly, I thought it was just a fleeting obsession at first, something that would pass, but…
" She pauses, glancing at Ilay with a knowing smile. "This man is completely smitten."
"Natalya," Ilay warns, his voice dropping low and dangerous. She ignores him completely. "And look at him now. Can't even keep his eyes off you for five consecutive seconds. Even the most mundane thing, like you eating pie, is apparently absolutely fascinating to watch."
I look up despite myself, and sure enough, Ilay is staring at me, his eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that you would think I had a fuck me sign on my head.
"See?" Natalya says triumphantly, gesturing at him with her wine glass.
"Told you." I clear my throat awkwardly, suddenly very interested in my water glass. "This is… awkward."
"Only if you make it awkward," Natalya says with a grin that suggests she's enjoying every second of this. She turns to Ilay. "Brother, why don't you tell her how you actually feel instead of just staring at her like some lovesick fool?"
"Natalya," he says again, more firmly this time, his jaw tightening visibly. But she isn't backing down at all. "No, seriously. You're a powerful man. You run this country You have politicians and businessmen terrified of you. But you can't tell one woman that you're interested in her?"
Ilay sets down his fork with a clang, fixing a heated gaze on Natalya. "This is not the time or place."
"When is the time, then?" Natalya shoots back without hesitation. "You've been circling her for weeks now. Sending flowers every morning. Buying her expensive cars. Following her around like a lost puppy. At some point, you actually have to say something."
I finally speak up, desperate to end this. "Can we please not do this right now?"
Natalya looks at me, studies my face for a moment, then sighs dramatically. "Fine. But for the record, I'm rooting for you two. You're good for him. He needs someone who won't put up with his nonsense and actually challenges him."
"I'm not putting up with anything," I mutter defensively. "we’re just business partners."
"Sure you are," Natalya says with another wink that makes me want to sink through the floor.
Ilay leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Are you finished now?"
"For now," Natalya says cheerfully, taking another sip of wine. "But I'm staying the night, so we'll have plenty of time to chat later about all sorts of things." I groan internally, already dreading whatever else she might say. This is going to be a long evening.
Ilay speaks again, his voice quieter this time, stripped of its usual edge. "The pie is good."
I look up, genuinely surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, meeting my eyes directly and holding my gaze. "Thank you for making it."
"You're welcome," I say quietly, not quite sure what else to say. Natalya watches us both with a satisfied smile spreading across her face, but thankfully, mercifully, she stays quiet.
For now.