Lahat ng Kabanata ng Kiss Me Goodbye, Mafia Don: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Anna“How’s dinner?” Viktor asks when he enters the kitchen, a round container of something in his hand. He sets the container down on the island counter.I show him my half-eaten bowl of ramen. “Delicious, as promised. I’m stuffed.”Surprisingly, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Saving room for dessert?” When I nod, that smile grows a bit wider. “Good. Because my mother—” He lifts the lid off with a flourish. “—made this for you.”“Oh. My. God.” I almost drop my fork at the sight of this multi-layered, powdery confection. “This thing is huge! What is it?”“Honey cake.” Viktor rummages through the drawers and cabinets for a few small plates and cutlery. “She said it was specifically for you, but you’re allowed to share if you want.”I can take a hint when I hear it. I flash him a playful smile between stuffing my face with the brothy noodles. “I guess I can share.”He passes me a fork and we dig in together. The first bite is orgasmic, the second bite doubly so. “Tell

ViktorI'm not going anywhere.I have no idea what will happen if she wakes up. But I don't fucking care right now, because I want to know in exquisite detail what has her so hot and bothered—and then I want to make that come to life.I bend toward her. "Tell me what you want, baby," I breathe in her ear.Her brow furrows, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to kiss the frown away."I... want..." Anna mumbles in her sleep. "I... need..." She moans, louder this time, and those fingers work over her clit even more.A wicked smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Me, don't you? You want me?" At her slumped nod and roll of her hips, I keep going. "That's it, baby. Take it. Be my good girl and take every fucking inch."Her legs kick the sheets down more. I can see her fingers dipping and massaging under her panties. I want to drag that damp fabric down, shove her hand aside, and wake her up by sliding right into her sweetness.I pause and wait. My breath is caught in my throat, b

Anna“Ma’am, please. You know I have orders.”“I know.” I take another sip from my travel mug and offer Viktor’s driver a sweet smile. “But as I’ve shared with you before, I’d rather drive myself.”Lev sighs and keeps his hand outstretched as if I’m going to give up and finally return him the car keys. “I understand, believe me. But what the boss says, goes.”“I’ll be sure to tell the boss that it’s not your fault.”Am I a shit-stirrer? Not usually. I’m more of the type to keep her head down, move in the shadows, don’t draw attention, et cetera. I don’t like causing waves.What do I like?Viktor’s reactions to my stubbornness, for one.We’ve settled into a nice, easy tempo at home that should have me feeling comfortable and relaxed. He comes home for dinner. We slide into small talk and do our best to avoid sharing details about our respective days.It’s what happens after bedtime that keeps me on edge.And it’s not his fault, necessarily.I’m the one having depraved sex dreams about

AnnaAn hour later, Asya and I are busting up laughing while I utterly fail at stuffing the dough for meaty pierogies. I’m either overfilling or rolling the dough too thin, because the membrane keeps breaking no matter how delicately I handle it.“You’re doing much better than I did when I first learned!” Asya exclaims while watching me struggle with joining the seams of my second attempt. “The trick is being able to measure a balance with your eyes. And better a thick dough than a broken one, yes?”“So what do I do with this… this… whatever the hell this is?” I laugh as I hold up my sad attempt at international cuisine.She plucks it from my hand and lays it out on the counter. “Take it apart and try again. Smaller meat, thicker dough.”“But what if it looks bad? Or it’s too small compared to the others?”“Then we eat it as a tester. Always test your cooking before serving, moya docha. Better a fat chef than a skinny husband.”I damn near choke on my own spit when she says that. Husb

AnnaSeveral pierogies and a crisp salad later, Viktor and I are laughing over a joke he heard Nik tell one of his men. "It's even better in Russian." He sips on his water, still chuckling. "Fuck, I gotta remember that one for Rina.""Do you speak Russian?" Almost immediately, I want to kick myself for asking such a stupid question. "I mean, I hear you say a few words and phrases sometimes, but...""But am I fluent? Yes." He sets his glass back down and smiles at me with all the warmth I wish he'd have every day. Asya was right: his stomach is a direct road to the best version of him. "I was born here in America, as were Rina and Nik. But our father insisted we go back and visit frequently. He wanted to keep us rooted in both worlds, Old and New.""You must have loved it."Viktor thinks about it for a moment. "For the most part, yeah. Especially at Christmastime. The lights on the snow... I'd be bundled up so tight, I couldn't put my arms down below my waist. But it was worth it."I t