My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3) (6 page)

“I would make trip to the grocery store, before we order out. That’s first habit we break, yes?” Judging by the look on the Russian’s face, making a joke wouldn’t be appropriate at that moment, so she simply nodded.

Jason swiped a key card for the private elevator that brought her straight to her penthouse. When they entered her home, Maxim whistled low and long.

“Wow. Caroline, this is amazing! Not a good enough word — stunning? Yes, stunning.” He walked up to the picture window in the great room, taking in the cityscape below. It looked out over Manhattan, and now that the evening was approaching, she agreed it definitely was as he had described it — stunning, indeed. The sun, a smoldering ball on the horizon, rendered the buildings into hues of pink and orange, with streaks of blue and purple just starting to bleed into the darkening sky. The view of the city never got old.

“I cannot imagine seeing this every night.” He stood with his hands on his narrow hips, his suit coat pushed out of the way by those large hands.

“If you take the job, you can see this every night. It’s even prettier in the snow. From this height, the city takes on a magical look in a snow storm.” A romantic at heart, Caroline loved watching the snow cover the buildings, and presume what the people were doing inside.

“It will be pleasure to see this.” He stood quietly for a few moments, then suddenly turned, clapping his hands. “Okay. Let’s get dinner going! Show me kitchen.” He took his suit coat off, draping it over a chair placed by her door.

She laughed at his excitement. “This way.” She halted when he started to roll up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Her clit throbbed immediately.

Christ! I’m acting like a silly teenager.

His arms were muscled and hairy, and once more, she noticed how large his hands were.

“You okay?”

She must’ve looked like an idiot just standing there staring at his arms. Hardly the poise one would expect from the CEO of a company.

What the hell has this damn man done to me?

“Oh, fine. I’m fine. C’mon.” She pivoted, walking toward her gleaming kitchen, the white cupboards and floors accented well with the stainless steel appliances. She loved her kitchen — even though she had not a clue what to do in there.

“Here’s the fridge, of course. And the stove.” She tapped each as she spoke, rolling her eyes as if exasperated that he needed help in recognizing them. “Over here is the pantry closet. Good luck. I’ll open some wine. Do you prefer a mixed drink, or is wine more your speed?”

“Wine would be perfect.” He had already walked into the pantry, looking around. After a few minutes of hearing banging and sliding of cans on shelves, amid the thud of his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, he came out, his arms full of oils, spices, cans of tomatoes, and pasta — along with a few other things she didn’t even know she had in there.

“Not bad. Now, I see what you have in freezer to make this better.” He winked at her and opened the door, shifting items. “Ah. Yes. Chicken, we’re set. And beef. I can do beef stroganoff tomorrow — my specialty.” He opened the refrigerator, inspecting its contents, scrutinizing things.

Things.

Things like a tub of partially eaten chocolate chip cookie dough, whipped cream, chocolate syrups. The Chinese food containers from last night were still there, plus several bottles of specialty coffee creamers. She cringed, waiting for him to scold her for her bad eating habits.

Instead, he stooped, opening the cupboard doors of the island, pulling out frying pans and a pot for the pasta. He whistled to himself as he placed the pot in the sink at the end of the island, filling it with water, as casual as if he’d been working in that kitchen for years. He appeared more comfortable in it than she’d ever been.

She’d been more than a little shocked that he hadn’t upbraided her for the ingredients — or
lack
of ingredients — in her kitchen. He wasn’t fazed at all.

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “You are deep in thought. Is something wrong? Everything okay?” He stopped chopping the onions and garlic to wait for her answer.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“When women say ‘fine’ they are not ‘fine’. Speak.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t angry about the stuff in my pantry and refrigerator. It’s… not very healthy.” She dropped her eyes, swirling her finger over the pattern in the marbled countertop in front of her. Anything to avoid eye contact for the imminent admonishment.

“Why would I be angry?” His eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head, the handsome man appearing genuinely confused.

“I have a lot of junk food and almost no healthy things to eat here.”

“Yes, you do. But that is why you hire me. I would not be angry with you for food. It is not how I am.” He tossed the onions and garlic into the pan, and she watched them sizzle and jump in the hot olive oil, the comforting scent wafting over to her. He continued. “Besides, you bought all of this before hiring me. None of this is my concern. We’ll clean out cupboards and start fresh tomorrow. Even after you hire me, I won’t get angry over food. Now, that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences. But angry?
Nyet
, I don’t get angry.”

“Consequences? What… do you mean by that?”

He gave her that dimpled smirk that made her belly flip in a funny way. “Nervous, Caro? You’ll have the natural consequences of eating any of those foods. And then I’ll be adding extra exercises or running. Things that will help fight the extra calories and fat, things that will keep you from caving into desires and eating unhealthy foods. Were you hoping I meant spanking?”

“No! Of course not. I just… didn’t know what you meant. That’s what I hate about all of this. I like some of the things in that fridge. Like my creamers for my coffee, for instance.”

“But they’re high in sugar. You need to break addiction to sugars in diet. We can find some flavored coffees that you might enjoy. Most things can be eaten. Only little at a time, yes? Once addiction to carbs and sugars is broken, you’ll see. It won’t be painful — unless you want it to be.” He tossed the chicken into the pan, covering it and turning the heat down a bit. “Now, let me see if you have some bell pepper and veggies in that vegetable bin.”

He opened the drawer, a pleased tone to his voice. “Yes! Sweet potato and one red bell pepper. Perfect.”

She thought about what he’d said.
It won’t be painful, unless you want it to be
. What the hell did he mean by that? She thought of the videos on her spanking video site. Those women definitely wanted it to be painful. She turned, looking at that gorgeous ass of his as he bent over, rummaging around inside her fridge again. How she’d love to take a bite of that ass, then grind her pelvis and clit on all that hard muscle while she nibbled his shoulders, slowly licking his huge biceps. Her excitement surged from her body, slickening her labia. Shifting in her chair, she crossed her legs, giving herself a little rub.

He returned to the counter. “Your cheeks are red. Is that wine working already? What did you have for lunch today, Caroleena?”

“I didn’t have lunch. I knew we’d be leaving early, so I just worked through it.”

“Now
that
will make me angry, since you asked. Not acceptable. I would’ve given you some cheese and crackers before the wine.” He made a small chopping motion with his hand. “No more wine. I get you cheese.”

His shirt fit tightly over his broad shoulders, bunching over his biceps. He definitely worked out daily. He opened the fridge again and pulled out a couple bricks of cheddar and pepper jack cheese.

How in the name of hell am I fitting my fat ass into yoga shorts and a top with a body like that next to me?

He had gone to the pantry, returning with a box of crackers. “Now, we discuss more fitness rules. Three meals a day. You do not skip any. Your metabolism can’t function without food. Do you have mini fridge in your office?”

“Yes, I do.”

He nodded. “Good. What do you keep in it now?”

“Diet pop, yogurt. Dips for chips or pretzels. Coffee creamers.”

He stopped slicing cheese, raising a dark eyebrow at her. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clenching his jaw. “You need to keep staples in your fridge at work for busy days when you can’t eat like you should. But they must be food items that will help keep your body functioning. Hummus, cottage cheese, fruit, cheese, wheat crackers, carrot sticks. A little plate of those and you will have protein, dairy, fruit, vegetable, and grain. See? No need to have fancy lunch every day. But you
will
eat three times a day.”

“That’s a good idea. I can do that.” She meant it too. She’d eat any of those for lunch, and they would be better than a hot dog at the stand on 5th Ave, or one of the soft pretzels from Sal’s in the lobby.

“What do you normally bring for lunch now?” He placed a small plate of cheese and crackers in front of her. “Eat all of it.”

He returned to the chicken, taking the cover off the pan, the steam filling the little area in front of him. It smelled amazing, her stomach growling in response. “Keep talking, Lena.”

“
Caroline
. Well, I don’t typically bring lunch. Sometimes, I get a sandwich or salad from the cafeteria.” She shrugged at him. “I’m not good at cooking. That’s why I’m hiring you, remember?”

“Yes, I do remember. We’ll take care of that. From now on you bring lunch, or I bring you lunch. And on Mondays, you bring fresh produce for your office fridge.” He peeled the sweet potato, then sliced it along with the bell pepper. In another pan, he had olive oil and garlic sautéing while he opened a can of crushed tomatoes and another of tomato sauce. He dumped the contents of the cans into the pan, then stirred in some additional spices, turning her kitchen into what smelled like a gourmet restaurant.

He grabbed the bottle of wine she had on the counter, adding some wine to the chicken and throwing in the sweet potatoes to let them cook. He covered the pan again to let it simmer, then added the pasta to the pot of boiling water.

“Caro, where are your pasta bowls or plates?” He stood in front of a row of cupboards trying to guess which one had the bowls.

“I’ll get them and set the table. You handle the stove. I’ll grab you the large pasta bowl for the table.”

Just as she finished the table, he brought the meal out to the table. He’d put everything into it, along with a large, silver serving fork. The food smelled delicious.

He placed a generous portion on a dinner plate. “This one is for Jason. You should bring it to him.”

She’d forgotten that her bodyguard had hinted at wanting dinner tonight. She walked to the little office she had for him near the front door. “Jason, here’s your dinner — from Maxim.”

“Thank you, Caroline. This looks amazing. Please tell me that you’re hiring him. He’ll be good for you.”

She smiled back. Jason was more than just security or a driver. He had become a good friend, despite their occasional clashes. “Yes, I think I want him as a fitness trainer. He seems very good, doesn’t he?”

“Very. And I get the impression he’ll help me to keep you in line.” He dipped his chin at her —another gentle rebuke.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about him. I’ll do better, I promise.” She cleared her throat and firmed her chin. “Now, eat. Let him know if you like it or not.” She turned on her heel before he could give her another sarcastic remark.

When she returned to the kitchen, Maxim had placed her bowl at her place with a generous portion of the pasta — and served one even more generous for himself.

“Dig in before it gets cold. I hope you like it. Sweet potatoes will be a nice touch to this plate. We like our potatoes in Russia. We add those or regular potatoes to many dishes. The sweet potatoes are better for you though.”

He’d been correct. The sweet potatoes with the bell peppers and tomatoes was a perfect combination. They ate, stopping to sip wine and talking about different places of interest in Russia. He told her about the restaurant he was a chef at in Moscow, and the rather interesting personalities he encountered there.

They both leaned back, enjoying each other’s company after dinner had ended, continuing to sip wine and talk.

Jason walked into the kitchen, placing his plate in the sink. “Jesus, that was the best pasta I’ve had in ages. The sweet potatoes were such a nice touch. I’ve already told her that I hope you get the job. You’ll be a great asset her — and she needs all the guidance she can get. You definitely have my vote.”

“Thanks for vote. Appreciate it.” He waved as Jason left the room. Turning his attention back to her, Maxim placed his wine glass on the table. “So, do I have job?”

She felt her eyebrows raise. “You make it sound like you had to win me over. I thought you’d run screaming from here. If you’ll have me, you’re hired.”

“It would be honor to help you with your goals. I think I’m going to like working for you. I typically work for two to three weeks, and then we have another serious discussion about job — how I’m doing, how things are going, whether it is working or no. I would like to do that with you too. Yes?”

“Perfect.” But inside, it felt anything but perfect to her. She knew as a businesswoman that this made sense; it’s what she’d recommend if she were in his position. But, it made her feel like she was in a… trial phase. One screw up, and he’d be gone. How was it possible that she already felt this concerned about his approval? But he was steady, protective, domineering — and totally an alpha male. She liked having these strong men around her. It didn’t make sense though. As CEO, she should be trying to figure out who would be the next set of metaphorical balls she’d hang from her great room wall.