“What does that mean?” I asked Joanna.
She chuckled. “Pain in his ass.”
Her laughter was infectious, and I tried not to join her.
How was this possible? How could I come to terms with maybe liking these people instead of detesting their company?
It seemed incomprehensible yet a smile curled my lips.
“It means little girl but only because she is mine.” Kirill’s low voice rumbled across the room. “And she can be a pain in the ass too.”
His tone held the warmth of a man in love, which I found inconceivable.
Beside me, Joanna gasped. “Oh god, am I turning green? ’Cause I’m about to barf.” Her face paled, and her hand fell to her tummy. “This kid’s getting a spanking when it comes out.”
I stared at her still flat belly in shock.
“I’m kidding!” she insisted. Then she screeched her chair back. “I seriously need to go puke in private now though.”
Kirill appeared at her side and he ushered her quickly from the kitchen. His solicitous behavior toward his pregnant mate created another crack in my ideas about this powerful Bratva enforcer.
Now guarded by Maksim only, I wondered if it was possible to make an escape. Except mean-faced soldiers patrolled every part of the nightclub and compound as far as I could tell.
At length, the baba beckoned me. “Pridi, pridi.”
“She wants to show you something.” Sasha interpreted with dancing blue eyes. “Good luck. I’ve been cooking with her since I was five-years-old, and Baba still has a go at my dumplings.”
Fantastic.
I was being challenged to a cook-off by the Russian matriarch?
Maksim guarded closely as I joined Baba at a counter where she’d rolled out fresh dough. She spoke in fluid Russian, which I didn’t understand at all. But she was patient and not unkind, demonstrating her technique.
I quickly picked up on the proper way to make these rustic dumplings, and even Sasha whistled approvingly.
As I concentrated on the older woman’s lulling voice and the simple task of preparing food, I was able to forget the disturbing events that had brought me here. Working beside Baba reminded me of rolling out pasta with my own mama years ago.
I barely even noticed when Kirill and Joanna came back.
But when Arkady returned, I just knew he was in the room, watching me. An aura of absolute power rolled off the man, and I glanced in his direction before he even made a sound.
He merely leaned against the doorway in his immaculate suit, gaze coasting over me and one corner of his mouth tilting up.
Yet, I knew beneath the sharp suit and rugged good looks was a lethal man. He bristled with weapons on his body, and his body was perhaps the most dangerous of all because—god help me—despite the fact he’d kidnapped me I couldn’t stave off the unholy attraction awakened by him.
With a huff of annoyance at my body’s betrayal, I turned back to the dumpling I was shaping.
He would not be ignored, however. Footsteps rang closer and closer until he appeared at my side.
I concentrated even harder on my work as Baba made a big show of complimenting my skills.
Then his hand reached out, and he turned my face to his.
I was met by his disarmingly teasing smile. “Would you like to stay here all day doing women’s work?”
Baba clearly understood him because she clucked loudly before taking a swipe at him with floury hands.
He laughed off her attack, returning his attention to me and, once again, I was confronted by his bold masculinity and delicious scent.
Spiraling heat began in my belly, sweeping outward.
“Or would you like to do something else today?” he asked in his deep, throaty timbre.
I knew it would be futile to ask to go home again so I wondered if instead I could catch Arkady off guard.
He’d been to my apartment. He knew what kind of lifestyle I was used to.
Contrary to whatever highfaluting notions he probably had about me, I dusted my hands of flour then said sweetly, “I’d like you to show me how to shoot.”
His stunning eyes widened infinitesimally. “Are you telling me you had no idea how to even use the Chiappa you were toting the other night?”
Kirill chuckled.
I shot him my dirtiest look before putting on my most guileless expression for Arkady. “I’m assuming since you’re in the gun business you have a shooting range or something on the premises?”
Something shockingly predatory shaped his face into sharp angles. “Da. Are you sure you can handle a real weapon, dragotsennaya printsessa?”
I gulped under the intensity of his look, his sexual innuendo and his smoldering gaze reminding me of how I’d pleaded to suck his cock last night. My pussy clenched. My nipples hardened. My eyes strayed down his front to the evident bulge in his pants.
Thankfully no one else seemed aware of the tension racing between us.
Joanna piped up. “I’m down for some target practice.”
“Actually, me too.” Sasha leaned back onto her elbows on the counter. “Way better than when you chose to shoot hoops with Kirill, Jo.”
“Hey, I beat him that time.”
I glanced at the redhead in time to see her triumphant grin, Kirill lightly snarling at her.
“And I defeated you at pool, don’t you forget,” he said.
I couldn’t imagine anyone beating Kirill at anything—except for Arkady as the oldest. Then again, nothing about Joanna spoke of her being a typical, totally obedient mafia wife.
I bit down on my bottom lip, looking up at Arkady through the fan of my eyelashes. “Afraid I’ll turn out to be better than you?”
He laughed uproariously. “Hardly.”
“I finish lunch.” Baba shooed us all from the kitchen. “Go. Go.”
As we walked back through the nightclub toward the area where Arkady had parked, I spotted no sign of the pakhan for which I was grateful.
I wondered if my fate and future truly lay in Arkady’s hands or those of Yury.
For some reason, I hoped the former.
Inside the large garage and loading area, Arkady and the others guided me to a screened off space at the back. Behind the enclosure, I discovered a professional-looking shooting range.
Yes, just as I thought. The black-market dealers probably stocked high-powered rifles close by too.
What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on one of those.
Arkady unholstered the gun I was familiar with—the one he’d rubbed against my lips that first night in his house when he’d conjure jarringly hot arousal from me.
Each of the men carried at least one handgun while Sasha and Joanna helped themselves to a lockbox to retrieve weapons of their own.
I was surprised these overbearing males let the women handle guns in the first place.
While they all checked their firearms, I stood uselessly by. “Don’t we need ear guards and protective gear?”
A round of thoroughly masculine laughter roared around me.
Even Joanna and Sasha chuckled.
“What?” I frowned.
“And this is the girl who was going to kill me.” Amusement lightened Kirill’s features.
I rounded on him. “I am not a girl. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman, and I’d have tried my best to take you down, stronzo.”
Stepping in front of me, Arkady glowered. He raised his gun, sliding that cold metal barrel along my cheek as he had the first time.