I spend all of Friday trying to calm down after being around Danya. I have no illusion that he’ll forget we’re in a fake relationship. I do have doubts about my ability to walk away when the time comes. That’s the real reason behind the rules. If we don’t kiss unless we have to, I can’t forget that he’s not mine. If we don’t have sex, I can’t get attached. It should be that easy.
Even if I enjoy being around him and I like how he lets me be sassy, how he welcomes it and always makes it fun. Even if I like looking at him, even if I’ve never felt hotter, more attractive, or more turned on than when he was kissing my neck and talking dirty to me right there in a parking lot ... he’s not mine.
No commitments. I’m betting it’s because he’s in the mafia. I get it. It’s not just work, it’s his life. Maybe I’m not in a good place for a relationship either. I just ended things with a guy I’d been with for a year. I work crazy hours. I’m rarely available and I don’t want to change that, since that means trusting someone else in my kitchen. And what the hell am I thinking? He’s in the mafia!
Saturday at work, though, I consider how nice it would be to have someone else in the kitchen. I’ve written all my recipes in case someone needs to take over for me at some point. Maybe if I took two days off a week, I’d be able to create more recipes or see my parents more, and see my friends when they ask me to go out and be a person, not just a kitchen appliance.
Then again, what if it goes wrong? What if I miss out on an opportunity because I’m not here? Whatever, that choice can wait.
Eli, the guy who works with me on weekends, sings off-key as we work in the kitchen. He flashes a flirtatious smile. He’s nineteen. Seems like they keep getting younger and more aggressive.
“So, Miss Abby, it’s been pretty slow today. What if we closed up early and you teach me how to make frosting?”
“You know, our biggest rush is around four. Mona will be in soon and that means-”
“I know, I know,” he huffs.
He tried flirting with her once. Mona doesn’t allow second chances, that’s for sure. When she comes in, I’m worried about taking two cupcakes, but she forces me to and then kicks me out of the shop.
I head home, take a quick nap, then text Danya, trying to figure out what we’re doing. He just tells me to look sexy. Groaning, I clean myself up, making myself as perfect as possible. I leave my hair down and wiggle into a pink dress. It’s a little tighter than I remember, and a little shorter, but the skirt isn’t clinging to my hips, so I consider it a win. Even if the sleeves keep falling down my shoulders.
I slide into flats just as I hear a knock at my door. I open it and look up at Danya. He inspects my face, running his thumb under my bottom lip. “You have pouty lips. Are you teasing me?”
“I have cupcakes for you,” I say instead, pulling away from his hand and showing him the box. “You can bring them to Sienna. They’re her real favorite — cookies and cream.”
He sighs. “So professional.”
“And proud of it. Where are we going?”
“To a lounge. It’s not a club, I promise, but it’s not just a bar. There’s food and dancing and shit. Aaron is taking a date there tonight. Seeing you will fuck with him plenty,” Danya promises me.
“Are you really available on Saturday nights?”
“Yeah. Police presence is always higher on Fridays and Saturdays. It’s better for me to work on weekdays,” he says as if it’s nothing.
I realize then he’s in slacks and a black button-up. He pushed the sleeves up past his elbows and he keeps fumbling with the top two buttons. I take his hand. “Why are you so uncomfortable?”
“This place has a dress code. I’m not fond of fancy clothes,” he huffs.
“We’ll have dinner and leave,” I say, then drag him downstairs.
I don’t let him hold the door for me and he speeds like a maniac through the city. Every yellow light must mean ‘step on it’ because that’s what he does. When we arrive, I’m breathless and sure that I’ve left nail marks on the car door’s little armrest.
“From now on, I drive,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Criticizing my driving already? What is this, our two-month anniversary?”
Danya keeps his smile as he wraps his arm around my hip and pulls me close. “I can’t have you getting cold.”
Just like that, my cheeks set ablaze. We get a few looks as we walk in, but I’m pretty sure everyone’s focused on how tall and good looking Danya is. I barely come up to his shoulder, so I’m not surprised that I’m overlooked.
Once we’re seated, Danya orders vodka for us. I almost laugh when he says to add a splash of cranberry to our drinks. His eyes flick around the room and his lips curl. “This will be a quick night.”
“Problem?”
“We’re on the edge of my territory. I don’t want you ruffled if a fight breaks out.”
“Great. I should have rethought you as my fake boyfriend,” I grumble as I look over the menu.
“Make me pay for it. Order everything except the lobster.”
I blink a few times, then peek at him over my menu. Did he remember that I’m allergic? We order food and he gets steak. I decide to get a salad until Danya stares at me like I’m insulting him. I switch to the chicken Alfredo.
“Salads are a starter, not a meal,” he says. “Take my hand.”
I obey, trying to ignore how good his fingers feel in mine. His hand is so big and warm. Danya looks at my fingers and grins. “You have cute fingers. You dislocated the middle one once, didn’t you?”
“I ... I did,” I agree.
“It’s bent more than the others. You didn’t go to the doctor.”
“I put it back in place myself,” I mumble.
“You know, I don’t get this, Abby. You’re strong as hell. You took out a dude, came at me with a frying pan, and you’re afraid of some pitiful asshole?”
“It’s different with him,” I answer, while pulling my hand away. Danya tightens his hold on me instead. “With you, I don’t get ... confused. I can and will defend myself physically, but I don’t trust myself with Aaron. It’s like ... I don’t know, like my head gets all weird and foggy and I can’t be sure what’s real.”
“You’re giving him too much power. You own a business. Create your own recipes. You trust yourself plenty. If anything, you should be angry. He cheated on you! The girl he cheated with had more balls than he did.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Sure.”
We eat while talking about the weather–literally–and going through every ‘small talk’ piece and icebreaker we know. It’s awkward. When we finish eating, Danya stands. “Let’s dance.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Oh, you’re about to. I can and will pick you up,” he threatens me. “Do you want a scene or-”
“Fine!”
Danya leads me to the dance floor and pulls me close. We just kind of sway until he spins me under his arm, twirls me out until our arms are stretched, then draws me back to him with a smile. I shake my head. “I’d never guess you can dance.”
“Of course. I have to be elite in everything. I’m a perfectionist,” he says.
We keep dancing until someone bumps me. I look over and see Aaron with some pretty brunette. She’s thinner than me, with a delicate smile I wish I had. She apologizes, but Aaron just glares.
Danya pulls me back to him and rests his hand lower on my back, his pinky grazing the curve of my ass. I suck in a breath and look up at him as he draws me tighter against his body. “Ignore him.”
“Danya-”
“Cupcake, ignore him. I’m serious. You won’t grow if you keep looking back,” he says. “Plus, if you keep giving him attention, I’ll want to shoot him.”
“You don’t have a gun,” I whisper.
Danya comes to a dead stop and jerks me against him. I feel something hard against my hip and look down. Danya leans down to whisper in my ear. “That’s not my cock poking you, Abigail. My cock’s a lot bigger.”
I shudder and draw back to stare up at him. “I ... um ...”
He spins me around so I can process that information. When the song ends, Danya insists we pay, then leads me outside as we wait for the valet. I clear my throat. “You carry that with you?”
“All the time. I feel naked without one.”
“So beach dates?”
“Not a thing as far as I’m concerned,” he answers, glancing around. “Come here, please.”
I hug him and rub his sides. He cups the back of my head. “If the wrong people see you, you will become a target.”
“We shouldn’t have come here.”
“I don’t mind. I might charge you more than cupcakes if I have to kill someone, though, Abby,” he warns me. “Fuck. I’m so tired of shitty timing.”
I lift my head and find him staring at me. “It’s a need.”
“It?”
He lifts my chin and leans down. “Not just a need though, Cupcake. After licking your lip, I wanted to taste a lot more.”
That’s all the warning I get. Danya kisses me and everything slows down, his lips pressing to mine, molding, but he does nothing halfway. He sucks my bottom lip, nibbles my top lip, then licks between my lips. I hesitate.
I don’t like PDA. I said that. But he said it’s a need. Do we need to do more than this? His lips open against mine and I can’t calm my curiosity. What does a hitman taste like? His hand tightens in my hair as his tongue teases mine with long, slow strokes that make me feel hot and gooey.
Tightening my hold on his shirt, I press my body closer to his. He changes the angle ever so slightly and kisses me faster, deeper. Everything is more, feeding the steadily growing fire in my belly.
His hand tightens in my dress and a low moan echoes between us. I don’t know if it’s me or Danya, but I’m suddenly very okay with kissing him. He nips my bottom lip, then renews the kiss again, taking control, so all I can do is swoon as I try to keep some kind of control.
My legs shake and all I can think about is how he’d kiss me if he liked me, if he wanted me. If this is fake ...
A throat clears and Danya pulls away before placing one soft, chaste kiss on my lips. I pant, trying to cool my cheeks. Well ... no one’s ever kissed me like that, like they wanted to taste every secret I’ve ever kept and know just how to learn everything without asking me a single question.
“Your car, sir,” the valet says.
“Ah, thank you,” Danya says before tipping him. He leads me to his car, opens the door, and kisses me again. His eyes burn through me until I’m so sure that I’m wet, I’m embarrassed. “The next time I come to the bakery, I’m not accepting cupcakes.”
“What?”
He winks at me and shuts the door. I stare out the windshield and see Aaron standing there, his teeth clenched, cheeks red, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
It was just acting, I remind myself despite touching my lip and wondering if it’s wrong to put us in situations where Danya has to kiss me.