hard shake when I hear a chortle and look over to see his posse of men grinning at me.
“Certainly you are, zhenshchina ,” he purrs, his lips tilting in a way that makes my heart flutter for about five seconds before reality sets in.
I’m not one of those sad chicks who sees myself and thinks ugly , but I have a mirror. My hair is brown, my eyes are this weird shade of light brown that I just don’t dig, and my ass is curvy in this day when curves are only hot on the Kardashians.
I am not beautiful, and certainly not enough to have this man looking at me this way.
“Er, thanks? Uh, would you like to try my pie?”
Seriously, Ri? What the hell?
The choking comes from him this time, and I can’t do a damn thing but start laughing when I catch his dimple popping as he tries not to laugh.
“Certainly. I would love to taste your pie, angel. It would be my greatest honor, only let me take you to dinner first, hmm? My mama raised a gentleman, after all.”
“Oh uh, I meant…”
“Here, try the cherry. It’s as close to her pie as you’re gonna get, buddy. Next!”
Thank Jesus for the influx of customers that floods in then because I’m able to scuttle away in short order. I feel as if my lungs have no air left in them.
I know what’s finally happened, and God help me, I don’t know if I’m happy or terrified. That man whose name I don’t even know—he’s my one.
Mamen’ka used to tell me stories about finding my one and I always dreamed about looking up one day and seeing him.
Unfortunately for me, he’s hot, rich from the looks of that suit, and totally out of my league.
Chapter Two
Misha
She’s gorgeous, cute, and sweet in a way that makes what I am about to do so wrong that even a man like me knows it. And yet I’m going to do it anyway because I have to.
I want that little piece of land her bakery is sitting on, and I want it yesterday. So what if it’s wrong to swindle a woman out of her dream?
It’s not as if I’m going to run her out of business and leave her penniless. I have a perfectly good location set up for Irina Velnicova and her little operation. Hell, she’ll be thanking me with kisses by the time I move her into that new space.
“We can’t do this, Mish. Did you see how sweet that woman was? I almost fell at her feet and begged forgiveness for what we were thinking of doing to her.” Leo groans, falling into a chair across from my desk as I stand at the window and look down at the little bakery across the street.
No, I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that, and not just because Irina is a sweet woman with a heart of gold, but because I have other choices. The problem lies in the fact that those choices do not involve me getting my way and that rubs me raw.
“We need that building, Leo, so do not sit there and tell me to do any less than what I have been doing. Irina doesn’t need to remain there in that building. She can run her bakery and diner from a block away without hurting her business.”
“She could, but the fact is why would she want to when she doesn’t have to? She worked really hard to get her business up and running without those brothers of hers taking over and throwing money around. And she’s made a good business there, Misha, a fucking terrific business considering she started out alone and worked fifteen-hour days before her goods became a hit.”
Yeah, which makes me feel like more of a heel about this whole thing.
I come from a Russian family that’s been in the States for three generations, though if you heard my parents speak, you’d think they’re newly Americanized.
We’re a solid unit and love one another to death. Hell, I still go home for dinner every Sunday and my mama still asks me about women and grandchildren on the regular. My family and the business we’ve built from nothing is my life.
That’s why this is so important to me. I have no beef with Irina past the fact that she’s the
“Certainly you are, zhenshchina ,” he purrs, his lips tilting in a way that makes my heart flutter for about five seconds before reality sets in.
I’m not one of those sad chicks who sees myself and thinks ugly , but I have a mirror. My hair is brown, my eyes are this weird shade of light brown that I just don’t dig, and my ass is curvy in this day when curves are only hot on the Kardashians.
I am not beautiful, and certainly not enough to have this man looking at me this way.
“Er, thanks? Uh, would you like to try my pie?”
Seriously, Ri? What the hell?
The choking comes from him this time, and I can’t do a damn thing but start laughing when I catch his dimple popping as he tries not to laugh.
“Certainly. I would love to taste your pie, angel. It would be my greatest honor, only let me take you to dinner first, hmm? My mama raised a gentleman, after all.”
“Oh uh, I meant…”
“Here, try the cherry. It’s as close to her pie as you’re gonna get, buddy. Next!”
Thank Jesus for the influx of customers that floods in then because I’m able to scuttle away in short order. I feel as if my lungs have no air left in them.
I know what’s finally happened, and God help me, I don’t know if I’m happy or terrified. That man whose name I don’t even know—he’s my one.
Mamen’ka used to tell me stories about finding my one and I always dreamed about looking up one day and seeing him.
Unfortunately for me, he’s hot, rich from the looks of that suit, and totally out of my league.
Chapter Two
Misha
She’s gorgeous, cute, and sweet in a way that makes what I am about to do so wrong that even a man like me knows it. And yet I’m going to do it anyway because I have to.
I want that little piece of land her bakery is sitting on, and I want it yesterday. So what if it’s wrong to swindle a woman out of her dream?
It’s not as if I’m going to run her out of business and leave her penniless. I have a perfectly good location set up for Irina Velnicova and her little operation. Hell, she’ll be thanking me with kisses by the time I move her into that new space.
“We can’t do this, Mish. Did you see how sweet that woman was? I almost fell at her feet and begged forgiveness for what we were thinking of doing to her.” Leo groans, falling into a chair across from my desk as I stand at the window and look down at the little bakery across the street.
No, I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that, and not just because Irina is a sweet woman with a heart of gold, but because I have other choices. The problem lies in the fact that those choices do not involve me getting my way and that rubs me raw.
“We need that building, Leo, so do not sit there and tell me to do any less than what I have been doing. Irina doesn’t need to remain there in that building. She can run her bakery and diner from a block away without hurting her business.”
“She could, but the fact is why would she want to when she doesn’t have to? She worked really hard to get her business up and running without those brothers of hers taking over and throwing money around. And she’s made a good business there, Misha, a fucking terrific business considering she started out alone and worked fifteen-hour days before her goods became a hit.”
Yeah, which makes me feel like more of a heel about this whole thing.
I come from a Russian family that’s been in the States for three generations, though if you heard my parents speak, you’d think they’re newly Americanized.
We’re a solid unit and love one another to death. Hell, I still go home for dinner every Sunday and my mama still asks me about women and grandchildren on the regular. My family and the business we’ve built from nothing is my life.
That’s why this is so important to me. I have no beef with Irina past the fact that she’s the
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