Chapter 9

ANASTASIA'S POV

“Come on. I'll take you home and we can watch a movie,” He coaxes, “We can eat and you can tell me why you're not appalled by the fact I've murdered your fiace.” He takes my hand, urging me forward.

I jerk back. “That sounds like death. Death itself.”

He pauses, turning around. “No. Fighting until you die is like death. A movie is...at best like mind-numbing entertainment. Besides, you owe me.”

“I got rid of a problem for you. You could be in jail right now, Kòshechka. Or worse,” He takes my hand, “You could break your nails.”

Goodness, he's right! I do owe him. I just got these done!

“Fine, one evening together. Sex not included."

He quirks a brow. “You know your gonna sleep me don't you?”

Yeah. There's no way I'm gonna leave his house unscathed. He has an pack and he has a nice dick, knows how to use it, last all night, extremely kinky—basically?

Just my type. Oh, if only he wasn't from the Sokolov family, the secret sworn enemy of the family I want to inherit.

If anyone saw me with him, my dreams of being the next Queenpin?

Bye-bye?

Unless of course I start my own?

But I'm entirely too lazy for that, honestly. Yeah, that about sums it up.

I take his hand, and he walks me to his car.

“How did you know I'm sensitive about my nails?”

“I've come close to death only twice in my life so far: the first, was when I cursed in front of my mother. I still have the scar. The second, was when I broke my sister's nail.”

He smiles at me, a sweet smile. “Usually, if a woman goes out of her way to make sure her nails are always done, that means comprising them means death and destruction.”

I smile back, because I'm going to marry him everyone else be damned.

He understands me fundamentally.

“You're so smart, Sokolov.”

“Level ten intellect. Just like you.”

I grit my teeth and smile. If he's a level ten intellect, and I suspect he is, because he knew I am—that means I can't say anything during this little get together.

If I do...if I let anything slip, he's gonna know everything.

And London bridge will come crashing down on my damn head. I sit on the nor familiar sofa.

“Do you know one of my favorite things?”

He shouts from the kitchen.

“What,” I ask as I get comfortable.

“Collective nouns," He pronounced. I get up, and sit at the bar, watching him closes.

Because I know this hot man can't also be a nerd.

“Did I hear you say Nouns is one of your favorite things?”

“Not nouns,” He chops some vegetables skillfully. “Collective nouns.”

Do most people even know collective knows exist?“

Tell me more," I put my hand on my cheek, watching his muscles work.

“A gaggle of geese. A bevy of swans. A sounder of Boars. A bask of crocodiles. A flamboyance of Flamingos. And my favorite, A murder of crows."

I smile. “That's my favorite collective noun too. A murder of crows it's just so...”

“Creepy,” We chime.

We laugh, as I lean into him. He smells so good.

“Okay, so can I know your favorite Russian phrase?”

“I have two. Smert’ pa-byezh-DA-yet vsyo and Tva-YA SMERT’ — ma-YA ZHIZN’..”

I smirk. “Death conquers all and Your Death, my Life.”

“And yours?" He asks, sauteeing onions. I didn't even see him cry. Does he have no flaws?”

“Preh-STOOP-nyy oom," I smirk.

He grins up at me. “A guilty mind. Interesting."

“That and Mir HO-chet byt’ ob-MA-noo-tym — pуст’ BOO-det ob-MA-not..”

“The world wants to be deceived; so let it be decieved." He translates.

I shurg. “Truthful words, if there were any.”

He leans over the bar and places a kiss on my lips.

He sets down a glass of wine.

“We have so much in common," He murmured, setting out two plates.

“We're both heirs to criminal syndicates.”

I choke on my wine. He smiles.

“Oh come on, darling. I'm level ten intellect like my father." He spooned some pasta onto the plate in front of me. “Who, incidentally, is an asshole, just like me!"

I snort. “And your Mother?”

“An angel and anyone who speaks ill of her will meet a miserable end.”

Aww, he loves his mommy.

“When did you find out? I ask, sipping leisurely.

“A little bit after we slept together. Had you investigated. Wasn't all that hard.”

I grit my teeth.

“So now what?” I ask.

“Now?” He smirks. “Now we eat dinner, and we watch a movie. And later I'll seduce you we'll sleep together and I'll call you next week and we'll do it again.”

I blink. “What if I call you first?”

He shrugs. “Then I'll be fucking you sooner than later. Now eat up. Pasta's no good when it's cold. And I cooked it from scratch just for you.”

I twirl the pasta around my fork. “I lied to you, aren't you angry?"

“Angry? I wouldn't go so far as to say angry. A little irritated sure. But you're so cute, I can get over it,”

He smiles, placing a curt kiss on my lips.

“Look at you! You're just so cute!"

I look away, my face burning. “Shut it, criminal!”

He smiles, brushing his thumb against my cheek. “Y'know I figured something out. When you call criminal...you don't mean it as an insult."

Damned criminal! I wake up in his bed. Again.

Damnit this has got to stop!

He sits up, leaning on his elbow. “So I was thinking... let's go to Hawaii?"

“Why? So you can kill me and dump Myra body?"

He snorts, his abs peaking out from under the covers.

“Of course not. If I was gonna do that, I wouldn't take you to Hawaii. I'd do it here.”

So comforting.

“I can't go. I don't have a passport.”

He pulls me into his arms. “You're adorable. You don't need a passport.”

Um even though that's totally true, US customs won't think so.

I tell him this.

“Then I'll ask for a supervisor, kill him, have one of men impersonate him and then we'll go,” He explains cheerfully.

I narrow my eyes. “That's...that's just mindless violence.”

He shrugs. “That's what happens when you lie to me Kòshechka. Mindless violence."

I swallow. Is that a threat?