Chapter 15 - Nikolai
I watch as Anoushka dances around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and utensils. She's got music playing and sways her hips to the beat as she works.
"Think you can out-cook me, old man?" she teases, flashing me a grin.
I let out a hearty laugh. "Old man? I may have seven years on you, but I can still keep up."
She arches an eyebrow. "Oh really? Care to put your money where your mouth is?"
A cooking challenge? My competitive side flares up. "All right, little girl. You're on."
Anoushka claps her hands together gleefully. "Yes! Okay, let's make… hmmm… how about pasta? From scratch. We'll both make the noodles and sauce."
"Agreed." I roll up my sleeves, ready to get to work. This should be fun.
We gather our ingredients—eggs, flour, olive oil, tomatoes, garlic, and basil. Anoushka puts on an upbeat soundtrack as we prep our stations.
"No cheating now," she says with a wink.
"Wouldn't dream of it." I wink back.
We get to work, kneading dough, chopping vegetables, and focusing intently on our tasks. Anoushka sways and sings along to the music as she cooks. She looks completely in her element.
And also, she is so damn pretty when she’s happy.
The kitchen soon fills with delicious aromas. We occasionally bump elbows and trade playful gibes as we hustle around. Anoushka 'accidentally' flicks tomato sauce at me. I retaliate by 'accidentally' sprinkling her with flour. Our laughter echoes off the walls.
When the food is ready, we dish up two plates each and take our seats at the table. Steam rises temptingly from the pasta.
Anoushka rubs her hands together. "Let the tasting begin!"
I take a bite of Anoushka's pasta, the tender homemade noodles coated in a rich, herb-flecked tomato sauce. She watches me eagerly as I chew.
"Well?" she asks.
I swallow and grin. "Not bad."
She punches my arm lightly. "Not bad? I'll take it."
It's her turn to sample my dish. She twirls the noodles around her fork and brings it to her lips. Her eyes widen as she tastes it.
"Wow, Nikolai. This is incredible," she says after she's finished chewing.
I can't help but feel a surge of male satisfaction at impressing her. "Why, thank you. I do have some skills in the kitchen."
Being here with Anoushka like this feels… right. Our eyes meet and hold. Without breaking my gaze, I reach over and wipe a speck of sauce from the corner of her mouth. She holds on to my hand, turning her head to give it a small kiss.
Something between us changes as our eyes remain transfixed. Hers on me, mine on those lips.
She feels it, too. I know because her cheeks flush, and her breathing quickens. The air between us suddenly crackles with electricity.
We both stand up slowly. Anoushka steps toward me, her eyes dark and inviting. Unable to resist any longer, I pull her into my arms and capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Her body melts against mine.
Our kisses grow more heated, hands roaming urgently. I sweep her up into my arms, carrying her toward the counter while trailing kisses down her neck. She sighs softly, fingers tangling in my hair.
I set her down on the counter, gazing at her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. She's so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I reach for the top she has on and tug at the first button. Damn it. This will take too long. Without a second thought, I rip it open. She gasps, her blue eyes wide with surprise as her breasts peek out at me through her bra. I dive in for another kiss, fondling her breasts, her taste mixed with hints of tomato still on her lips. She’s intoxicated.
I hitch up her skirt, she takes off my belt. I rip off my own shirt while she unzips my pants. Clothes now mostly discarded, I pull her off the counter, and flip her around. My hands slide down her shoulders till they reach her wrists, and I plant them firmly on the countertop, pulling one hand back to gently guide her neck forward till she leans in front of me.
“Now, stay like that,” I command before ramming my cock into her. Over and over again.
***
In the days that follow, we steal every possible moment together, unable to keep our hands off each other now that we've crossed that line. At every chance, I pull her into my arms, capturing her lips in hungry kisses that leave us both breathless and wanting more. The fire between us burns hotter than ever.
I've never felt more alive than with her by my side. My stubborn, fierce, passionate Anoushka. All I have is eyes for her, whether we’re in the office or the bedroom.
***
An urgent summons from the Zolotov brothers bursts my week-long blissful bubble with Anoushka. I'm immediately on edge as I make my way to meet them, wary of what fault they might find in our alliance now.
As far as I know, our joint projects are unraveling effortlessly.
Maybe they wish to tell me, “Good job”?
Yeah, right.
The tension in the room is palpable when I arrive. Boris, Damien, and Lev glare at me, hostility rolling off them in waves.
“Gentlemen,” I begin calmly.
"Where the hell have you been, keeping our sister from us?" Boris growls.
I raise my hands placatingly. "Anoushka is her own woman. I don't keep her from anything, especially her own family."
"Bullshit," Lev spits. "Ever since the past two weeks, she's been attached to your side. She hasn’t come around to the house, and she hasn’t been coming into the office. What are you up to, Orlov?”
I bite back a sharp retort. Getting defensive won't help my case.
"I would never come between you and your sister," I say evenly. "But you can't dictate her choices. She's free to spend her time as she wishes. But, since you do wish to know, she decided to take some interest in our family business too."
Damien's eyes bore into me, cold and calculating. "Perhaps, on our behest, you'll encourage her to reconnect with us. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all."
I clench my jaw. They're trying to manipulate me, but I won't take the bait.
"I'll encourage her," I reply. "But I won't force her. If she’s not seeing you as much as you’d like, you’ll have to take it up with her.”
The brothers exchange loaded looks. I brace myself for the next salvo.
Boris leans forward, fingers steepled together. "Since Anoushka seems so reluctant to work in our folds, we need to consider… other options."
My eyes narrow. "What exactly are you proposing?"
"Our Zolotov cousins back in Moscow," Boris says matter-of-factly. "A few of them coming here would reinforce our alliance and help us have more hands on deck. While our alliance is functioning, some of our personal ventures are suffering from redirected resources."
“Your cousins?” I ask through gritted teeth. There are more?
“Why, yes. Our brother Abram and his younger siblings. They could learn a little about America,” Boris nods. “Three of them are actually born to an American mother, after Abram and Vladimir’s mother died. Denis, Mark, and Lara. They’ve never been to America. Can you imagine the tragedy?”
I stiffen. More Zolotovs are the last thing I need. We already have Ivan, Mikhail, and Sergei. With more in Philadelphia, they’d become far too powerful. Even though, given their current status, it seems impossible to be any more powerful than they already are.
Which is why that’s definitely not the best idea.
"I'm not sure that's wise,” following Damien’s logic. “You know what they say? Too many hands make light work.”
Damien raises a hand. "Boris, hold on. Nikolai has a point." He turns to me, expression neutral. "We don't want this to become a complicated situation. That won't accomplish anything."
I eye him warily. Of the three brothers, Damien has always been the most reasonable. But I don't trust his conciliatory tone because he’s a war general if I ever saw one.
"What do you suggest then?" I ask.
Damien smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "A chance for you to help us out. Go to Paris to overlook the contract tenders for our golf club, resort, and casino on the French Riviera. That way, Boris, Lev, and I can focus a little more on the areas we’re struggling with. It’s just what we need."
“Paris?” I say, even-toned. “For how long?”
“However long it takes to convince Monsieur Dubois to give us the right rates."
My pulse spikes. I exhale slowly. They want me gone, away from Anoushka. But I have to make this work.
This is a test. One I can't afford to fail. It’s a prime opportunity to show the family where my loyalty lies in our alliance.
"I accept," I say finally.
Damien claps his hands together. "Excellent! I'll make the arrangements. You'll leave next week."
My gut twists. Time apart from my wife feels like a lifetime. But for her sake, I'll endure anything—even exile at the hands of her own family.