Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aria

“You knowthe answer to that question, little hacker. And if you don’t, why don’t you try me.”

I watch him walk toward a doorway in the corner of the room. So that’s how you get to the kitchen from this room, whatever it is. Interesting.

While he’s gone, I do what he says. Why do I push himmmmm?

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember, with the strange need to push my boundaries, challenge authority, question the status quo. Why do twelve-year-olds go to seventh grade? What if they’re ready for ninth? Who decided there was a hierarchy to things like governments and churches anyway, and why do dumbass people who don’t deserve power have it? Who decided traditional gender roles dictate how people dress, what jobs they perform, and what’s expected of them?

But while I sit on the piano bench, my legs crossed and my palms on my legs as he told me, I find it’s nice to quiet the incessant questioning for a little while. My body begins to still, and my breathing slows. I listen for sounds of him getting food or whatever he’s doing, but it’s silent in here.

Play the piano.

I want to lean over and play it. I want to feel my fingers stroke against the keys. I’m curious if I remember how.

I turn and stare at it and consider my options. If I disobey him, he’ll punish me. And while punishment might lead to something deep and dark and deliciously sexy…getting there won’t be.

I don’t ever sit still. This is a challenge for me.

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, allowing the air to fill my diaphragm. I do a quick mental assessment of my body. As usual in Mikhail’s stubbornly sexy presence, I’m definitely aroused. Sitting here naked enhances that. There’s something wanton and risqué about it. I swallow and try to focus myself.

Breathe.

Breathe.

A wave of hunger hits me, followed by a wave of nausea. I’m starving and need food now.

I focus on using all of my senses. The feel of the leather seat, warmed from Mikhail, against my naked legs. The scent of Mikhail that lingers in the air, the faintest whiff of pine. The smell of toast and something savory, making my mouth water.

The sound of a door opening and closing. I open my eyes and Mikhail walks in with a wooden tray of food.

“Ah. Very good, little hacker. You’ve earned your dinner.”

In the dark, I can’t tell if he’s teasing or not. Would he really deny me food? A spanking would be mild in comparison.

He walks with such elegant grace and strength, I sit and watch him, half-struck with admiration. Wordlessly, he walks toward me with the food.

“You may get up and come sit on the sofa,” he says with a nod toward it. “Join me here, please.”

He settles himself on the sofa and watches me as I uncross my legs and rise. The way his eyes rove over my body and he takes everything in makes me feel like a queen. I stand tall, my shoulders back. I don’t miss the robe. It’s strange how comfortable it feels being naked when I know the only person who sees me loves my body.

I sit next to him and look at the tray he’s set on a small table. A few sandwiches wrapped in wax paper sit beside a small plate of cheese and crackers. Small, golden-brown pastry shells are nestled on a second plate, beside thick, pancake-like cakes.

“Wow, this looks amazing. And…interesting.” I give him a curious look.

“I’m not sure what you like to eat, and it would please me very much if my wife would join me in eating the traditional food of my homeland.”

Fortunately, I like a large variety of foods so I’m game to try Mother Russia’s spread. “Alright, then. Let’s give it a go. Can you tell me what they are?”

He points a fork to the pancake-like things first. “Syrniki. They’re like pancakes but made with cottage cheese. Breaded then fried.” Next, the golden pastries. “These are pirozhki. Pastries that can be savory or sweet, depending. These are savory, filled with potatoes, onions, and meat.”

“Interesting. Let’s go.”

I look to him and wait to see if I’ll be allowed to feed myself this time. He gives a subtle nod and looks pleased. I’m catching on.

I reach for the fork and cut a small wedge of the pancake first. It’s crispy on the outside with a crunchy breadcrumb edge, but the inside is mildly sweet and creamy. “Mmm. Delicious. Did you cook these? Right now?”

“I heated up the food I had staff leave us. I’m pleased you like it.”

The nod of approval and hint at a smile make my heart flip in my chest. The warning bells that were clanging to warn me of impending doom if I seek his approval are getting harder and harder to hear. I…I like pleasing him. It’s so rare that he isn’t scowling, I feel as if I’ve won a major battle. The words I’m pleased don’t often escape his lips.

Next up, I take a bite of the savory pirozhki. Flavors explode in my mouth. “Mmm,” I say involuntarily, reaching for another bite. “Mmm, these are delicious. I’ve never been much of a sweets person.”

“Me neither.” He joins me and we quickly polish off the food.

I sit back against the couch, my belly full. Finally, my eyes are sleepy again.

“Oh, God, I just realized I have my makeup⁠—”

I reach for my face. No, wait. He helped me clean up last night, didn’t he?

Did he?

“Everything alright?”

“Did you…help me get ready for bed?”

With a shrug of his massive shoulder, he reaches for the last pirozhki and eats half of it in one enormous bite. “Of course. I told you I take good care of what’s mine.”

“True,” I say, changing the subject because this is dangerous territory for me.

Another casual shrug. He knows I didn’t miss his point.

I stifle a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

And…naked. I can’t forget I’m absolutely buck naked. And I’m sitting next to a man twice my size who’s claimed me as his. My…husband.

He’s my husband.

It’s still so hard for me to swallow all this.

“We will go to bed. Tomorrow we have some work to do to prepare you to live here with me.”