Chapter Nineteen
Vitaly
Elliot. Orion. Callum.
Three names I’m about to meet. Three men who love the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Apparently Callum’s been at the bakery.
Not for bread.
For me.
Watching. Guarding.
Juliet-level devotion from someone I’ve never spoken to.
I’m a bundle of raw nerves.
Do I lose Juliet?
Does her love hinge on the people who already hold her heart?
Noah’s friendship.
The first real one I’ve ever had.
Losing that would carve something out of me I don’t know how to regrow.
Would Noah quit?
Elliot. Orion. Callum.
And who is the sixth she mentioned?
Another stranger I’ll have to love because she does?
“Do I get a say, or do I just fold myself in and hope the shape of me fits the shape of them?
I glance at the passenger seat.
Roses for Juliet. Pink ones.
Fresh medovik wrapped in butcher paper because bread is the only language I speak fluently.
They already know me and all I have are snippets from Noah.
I park between two cars in the driveway.
Stare at the door.
She loves me.
Noah loves me.
Two truths so bright they almost hurt to hold.
I get out.
Walk toward the door.
Raise my hand and knock.
Juliet opens the door. Her face lights up and everything else melts away.
She tugs me gently inside.
“We made sharlotka,” Noah shouts from the other room. “Elliot also cooks like a beast.”
They made sharlotka.
For me.
A Russian apple cake my grandmother used to make.
“And beef stroganoff,” someone else says and swoops over taking the flowers and bag from me. “It’s fucking amazing. Sir Elliot made sure to make it old school Russian style. I’m Callum.”
“Sir?” I echo, dazed. “Like royalty or BDSM?”
Callum nearly drops the cake laughing. “Bit of both, honestly. Sir like he’s a bossy prick who likes to spank.”
“Oh.” That’s the only word I can find.
A man built like a slab of granite with tattoos walks over. Orion, I assume. “Don’t start the sex talk until were at the table, heathen. Orion. Good to finally meet you up close.”
He shakes my hand.
His grip is firm.
Eyes sincere.
Juliet shakes her head. “Elliot and I will kill all of you if you don’t eat first. We made it from scratch.”
“I stirred a thing,” Noah says proudly, walking up. He pats my arm and pulls me into a hug. “Relax. We already love you.”
Elliot emerges.
Older. Refined.
The kind of man who carries authority like it’s a second skin.
“What do you want for a drink? Pinot noir?” he asks.
“Thank you, yes.” They know me.
“Fancy fuckers made mashed potatoes, noodles, and little crispy potato sticks.” Callum moves into the house.
I flick my eyes to Juliet. “You didn’t have to… this is…”
“A lot. Orion says. She’s a lot. Personally, we agree with your taste. Those potato straw things? Fucking divine.”
They move around the kitchen like they’ve done this a thousand times.
The banter is immediate.
Comfortable.
This is a family that loves loud.
“How did you know my favorite was potato straws?” I ask.
“We know everything,” Elliot says. “Juliet is skilled at vetting.”
The words sink in.
They know my favorite.
Not because I told them.
Because they watched.
Because they cared enough to learn.
In Russia, you don’t trust people who watch you.
You suspect them.
You hide.
But this feels different.
This feels like love.
“I’ve been vetted?” I ask, relaxing into the meal.
Relaxing is inevitable around them.
Their comfort is contagious.
Juliet’s hand slides over on my thigh. “I had to be sure you were a good fit. I don’t share my family with anyone I wouldn’t kill for.”
The confession stops me mid-chew.
Not a threat.
A promise.
This beautiful, feral woman doesn’t just invite people in.
She goes to war for them.
Already has, probably, in ways I don’t know.
In Russia, when someone tells you they’d kill for you, it means something.
It means you’re theirs.
And they’re yours.
No escape clause. No fine print.
That’s not just love.
That’s devotion.
That’s ownership.
That’s everything.
I realize I’ve been looking for exactly this my whole life.
My cock, heart, and brain all respond.
“Kroshka, I…”
“What the fuck. That’s sexy. What does it mean?” Orion asks. “Tell me it’s not just babe or sweetheart.”
“I want one. What would you call someone who is…” Callum starts.
“A fucking menace?” Juliet adds.
“Bespredel’ets,” I say.
“I’ve got a boner now,” Callum says. “Make eye contact next time you say it and I’ll come right here.”
I meet his eyes. “Bespredel’ets,” I say slow.
Callum actually stands up, pretends to adjust himself, and announces to the table, “Excuse me, I need to go change my pants. That was a critical hit.”
“Sit down, you’re not allowed to come until the new guy does. House rules,” Orion says flat.
“Jesus Christ,” Elliot pinches the bridge of is nose. “Excuse him. We can’t seem to civilize him no matter what we try.”
I turn to Orion. “And you, Zver.”
“Did you just verbally dom me?” Orion says. “Because I liked it. Say it again slower.”
“I love this,” Juliet bounces a little. “Do Elliot.”
“Gospodín.” I say.
Elliot’s gaze barely flickers.
“Now you’re exaggerating,” he says, and sips his wine. Then adds, “And yet…” His fingers graze Juliet’s arm. “…I’ll take it.”
“Don’t encourage him.” Noah laughs and takes a bite of the medivok. “This is delicious as always.”
“Spasibo, Dusha,” I say. “Sweetest soul in the house.”
“Well, now that I’m one more pet name from orgasm, my volk,” Juliet says.
“Let’s turn it into a drinking game. Every time Vitaly accidentally doms someone with a Russian word, everyone else has to drink and moan exaggeratedly,” Callum says.
“By the time he calls Noah solnyshko, Callum will be fake-sobbing into a pillow and pregnant,” Orion says.
“Let’s pause on volk. Vitaly Volkov,” Callum says. “You could have been anything with that name, and you chose baker?”
“He’s not wrong,” Orion adds. “That’s a hitman name. And you’re out here just… making pastries?”
“Good pastries,” Noah adds.
“Top tier,” Elliot says.
“Volkov sounds like a werewolf who runs a gluten-free bakery, stares at your soul, and silently judges your croissant order,” Noah says.
“He does have that brooding Eastern-European intensity,” Orion says.
“That voice though?” Callum says. “Can we keep him, Madness? He can be our designated weapon of mass seduction.”
“He’s ours,” Juliet says.
“Seriously though. Do you at least have a secret past? A body count?” Callum asks leaning in. “Or is your biggest crime illegally delicious pastries?”
“That’s not a crime,” Elliot says. “It’s an asset. You can’t fucking cook.”
Callum puts his hand to his chest. “I make a mean bowl of cereal.”
“You put chocolate milk in cookie crisp like a deranged toddler,” Noah says.
“He’s not wrong,” Orion adds.
“Are we keeping the cameras or what?” Callum asks. “I kinda like falling asleep to his security footage.”
I stop chewing. “What cameras?”
Juliet leans closer. “It was mostly to protect you.”
“Bullshit,” Orion says.
Callum pulls out his phone, projects the bakery security feed onto the living room TV. “For educational purposes.”
It’s me piping perfect roses onto a cake at 3 a.m., humming off-key.
“Look at that wrist flick. That’s foreplay,” Callum says.
Noah throws a napkin at him.
“Leave them. They’re useful to see when danger gets near,” Elliot says.
“You watched me? At work?” I turn to Noah, then Juliet. “This is true?”
“And at home,” Juliet says. “Because you’re so beautiful. And also to make sure that bitch didn’t hurt you.”
“Tell him about the shower?” Callum prods her.
I listen to her story.
I’m not angry over the intrusions.
I’m turned on.
I clear my throat. “So… the heart on my mirror wasn’t condensation?”
Juliet smiles like the devil in pink. “You’re mine, Vitaly. We just made it official.”
After dessert, the table goes quiet. Not awkward. Purposeful.
Like everyone’s waiting for the same clock to strike.
Elliot tops off my wine without asking.
Orion’s knee brushes mine under the table and stays.
Callum’s feet prop in my lap like they’ve always belonged there.
I realize this is how they do intimacy.
Not all at once.
Gradual. Testing.
Making sure I fit.
And I do. I absolutely do.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But if you want us, want her, want this… we want you too.” Noah’s voice is quiet, a soft murmur.
Juliet’s hand returns to my thigh.
Callum wiggles his brows.
Orion smirks.
Elliot looks like he already knows the answer.
I swallow hard. My mind is already made up. I think it was from the moment I walked in.
“Let me help clear the dishes,” I say.
Juliet’s smile is all teeth.
I stand, start gathering plates with shaking hands.
“Leave the dishes,” Callum says, stepping in. “We’re having Juliet for dessert.”
Orion appears behind him, heat at my back, voice low. “Plates don’t whimper. Juliet does. Priorities.”
Juliet appears in front of him, takes the last dish, sets it down, and fists my shirt. “Kitchen’s closed. Open invitation starts now.”
All eyes are on me.
“I… da.”
I look at each of them.
Elliot’s patient.
Orion’s hungry.
Callum’s grinning.
Noah’s soft.
Juliet’s waiting.
Five people. Five reasons to say yes. Five reasons to be terrified.
But I’ve already decided.
I decided the moment she walked into the bakery. I decided the moment they made sharlotka. I decided the moment I realized I wasn’t alone anymore.
“Da,” I say. Then again, stronger, “Yes. Please.”
Callum fist-pumps.
Noah laughs wetly.
Orion growls something filthy in Russian he probably learned from my security footage.
Juliet smiles like she just won and I’m the prize. “Welcome home, baby. Now let us show you what family really means.”