“No, I haven’t,” I answer, smiling at Aleksandr when he swats Ivan’s hand away and starts to fill my plate. “I’m looking forward to trying everything.”
Before Aleksandr is even finished filling my plate, which looks very much as if his plan ispile it high and deep, the blonde waitress is setting a bowl of red soup in front of me. She gives me a friendly smile and avoids looking at my husband. I like her a lot better now, so I give her a grateful smile and say thanks.
“What is this?” I whisper to Aleksandr.
He smiles and says, “It’s borscht. I think you’ll love it.”
I move the spoon around the ruby-red soup, noticing chunks of all kinds of things floating around inside of it, and there’s a big dollop of sour cream on top. I mix it all together and take a bite, my eyes widening when my taste buds get involved.
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” Aleksandr says with a big grin on his face. “We serve it cold at the restaurant in the summer, and it’s just as good then, too.”
I keep eating the beet soup while he finishes loading my plate, and when he sets it down beside me, I give him ayou’ve got to be kidding melook that he just laughs off.
“Quit being modest. We both know you’re good for it.”
The playful wink he gives lets me know he’s just joking, but there is a lot of truth to his words. The chances are very high that I’ll be able to clean my plate. The men around me speak in Russian while I finish my soup and then switch out my bowl for the giant plate of food.
“Try these,” Aleksandr says, pointing at what looks like a round ball of dough.
I take a bite and let out a moan of appreciation. The bread is stuffed with meat and cabbage and spices that I can’t even begin to try and name. I’m in my own little food world when I look up and realize that everyone is staring at me.
“I like a woman with a good appetite,” Viktor says, giving me a nod of approval. “I bet she’ll give you many sons, Aleksandr.”
Oh good God.
He raises his glass in a toast, and I want to crawl under the table and disappear. Aleksandr lets out a deep laugh and kisses the top of my head. I swear if any of them make a move to try and measure my birthing hips, I’m so fucking out of here. When a small glass appears in front of me, I down it without a second thought and then nearly choke when I realize it’s straight vodka. It’s smooth as fuck and probably crazy expensive, but I still start coughing as everyone around me starts laughing. Aleksandr rubs my back and leans in closer.
“You okay, baby?”
I nod my head and whisper, “Water, please.”
He kisses my cheek and hands me a glass of water. I take a few sips, getting my body back under control, and when I’m finally calmed down, I can’t help but notice that I do feel a bit calmer after my accidental double shot of straight vodka. I can feel Aleksandr’s eyes on me, watching to make sure I’m really okay. When I start eating again, his body relaxes and he goes back to his own plate.
“So how’s married life treating you?” Ivan asks with a big grin on his face.
I blush while Aleksandr says, “Pretty damn good,” and gives me a wink. “I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise during work.”
The men laugh, and it suddenly occurs to me how damn lucky I got that night. I watch Pyotr chew, his mouth overstuffed with food, as his jowls work overtime to handle the load, and I realize that I could’ve just as easily walked in on him. A shiver runs through me at the thought.
I look over and see Aleksandr studying me. God, the man really doesn’t miss a thing. He doesn’t say anything, just gives my thigh a squeeze and turns back to Ivan who’s still grinning.
“Yeah, you got damn lucky,” he admits, giving me a wink.
“Careful,” Aleksandr growls.
Ivan holds up his hands and gives a good-natured laugh. “I’m just messing around. You know I don’t have a death wish.”
Aleksandr says something to him in Russian that has him turning a bit pale, and I’m guessing that’ll be the last time I get a wink from Ivan. Viktor chimes in with something that makes the others laugh, and Aleksandr gives a slight grunt that sounds more like amusement than anger before the tension eases in the room.
“Eat, eat,” Viktor says to me, smiling at me encouragingly and motioning toward my still full plate.
I smile and dig in some more. I had no idea Russian food was so good, and I make a mental note to get some of these recipes so I can try and cook them. The rest of the meal passes peacefully enough. They speak about who knows what in Russian, asking me the occasional question in English. I’m grateful to not be on display and don’t mind the Russian in the slightest. Besides, I really love hearing Aleksandr speak it. The language is sexy as fuck coming from his lips. He catches me staring at him at one point and gives me a wink as he runs his thumb over my thigh in a movement that both soothes and arouses. The man has a direct line straight to my pussy, and judging by the wicked glint in his green eyes, he knows it.
When I can’t eat another bite, I sit back with a sigh and then want to cry when my plates are cleared away and a small bowl of ice cream is left in its place.
“I can’t,” I say, already shaking my head.
“Just one bite,lisichka,” Aleksandr says, filling the spoon with ice cream and a bright red raspberry. “It’smorozhenoe, and it’s the creamiest ice cream you’ll ever have. I promise.”