Page 38 of Sinful Wrath
He shrugs. “It’s nothing fancy.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch Mikhail take a bite of his food.
He went to all this trouble to make me dinner.
I should stay mad at him, considering he literally locked me up, but there’s just something about a hot man making me food that has my body tingling in a way that is highly inappropriate for the dinner table.
“You know, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a home-cooked meal to get me to forgive you for doing this.”
“I don’t need you to forgive me, Lucia.” He glances up at me under his dark lashes. “I shouldn’t have to apologize for trying to keep you safe.”
“You are just like my father,” I reach for my wine.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You really shouldn’t.”
We go back to eating in silence, but I can’t stop myself from sneaking glances at Mikhail every few minutes.
He seems so content in the quiet, lost in his own thoughts, that I don’t want to disturb him.
But I hate silence. It literally makes my skin crawl.
So, seeing as Mikhail insisted on having dinner with me, that means he has to endure my endless chatter.
“What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?” I ask after devouring almost half my plate in one go.
Mikhail takes a sip of wine. “I’d probably still be at the office. I tend to stay late most days.”
I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t like coming home to an empty house. It must get pretty lonely…
”Okay. Well, what about on days when you don’t?”
“Nothing much.”
“Oh, comeon, give me something, Koslov. Thaw some of that icy exterior.”
“Fine.” He sets his wine glass down and rests his forearms on the table. “I like watching old movies.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” I set down my fork and pick up my wine.
“Psycho, Citizen Kane, the original King Kong.”
“All solid choices.”
“You’ve seen them?” His eyebrows lift.
“Of course! My father and I used to watch films like that all the time when I was a kid. It was sort of a tradition.”
“Was?”
“My father’s a very busy man these days.”
Something like pity flickers in Mikhail’s eyes, but I shrug it off.
I’m not a kid anymore, though it seems Papa has forgotten that seeing as he’s insisting on me having a babysitter.
“What one’s do you like?” Mikhail asks.