The Siren's Dream by Amber Belldene

Author:Amber Belldene [Belldene, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

It required considerable discipline for Nikolai to keep his eyes on his chattering niece every time Katya moved into the edges of his vision. A length of her slim, sweater-clad arm flashed as she reached for a glass on a high shelf. He gritted his teeth and stared unblinking at Dariya until the urge to ogle Katya passed.

It didn’t. He gave in and tossed her a quick glance, barefoot in the leggings and busily cleaning but with an ear inclined to Dariya’s impressive briefing on Femme Fatale. The woman’s presence in the kitchen made him ache for Sofiya and somehow soothed the ache at the same time. And her connection with Dariya—she’d earned the girl’s respect, the teenager who’d refused to talk to grief counselors and had let her anxiety cut her off from her friends. If he didn't know better, he might have thought Katya had spun a siren song around his niece too.

But it wasn’t only that. The food—chert. Turned out the smell of cooking food proved remarkably different from the smell of reheated food. A man could get used to eating like this.

She stood up on her toes and bent to wipe a sponge over the backsplash. He wanted to see her naked like that. He closed his eyes and pictured her ass, her lush folds slightly spread as she bent over, imagined bending to lick her there until she was slippery and ready for him.

“Nikolai!” Dariya said, seconds before something hit him in the face. He looked down to find a balled up napkin rolling away from him on the floor. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“I was. Tell her, Katya.”

She raised one eyebrow, apparently amused by the call to come to his defense. “He seemed rather focused to me, Dariya. Maybe he’s just hungry, which is good timing, because the soup’s on.”

Somewhere, a telephone rang. His niece’s eyes went wide and she dashed into the bedroom. Katya looked at him with sparkly laughter in her eyes, but before he could make a joke about fifteen-year-olds and mobile phones, Dariya appeared with the device, grinning. “It’s Nadya.”

Nadya, Dariya’s best friend, had called less and less as the adolescent social world had moved on without the absent, grieving girl. He’d tried to offer friendship advice, but she’d dismissed it out of hand, taking the lack of phone calls as cruel while she herself was unwilling, or perhaps unable, to reach out. And she’d been right to ignore him. He hardly had a posse of friends to recommend him as an expert. His work had been his life, an all or nothing enterprise, a family of professionals like Leonid, Lyuba, Nagarov, and Tatiana Oburski—nothing like this domestic coziness Katya had spun around them like clouds of golden floss.

“Here.” Katya ladled soup into a bowl. “Head to your room and answer the call. I’ll follow with your dinner.”

A giant smile dawned on Dariya’s face, and gratitude filled Nikolai to the point of bursting.

Katya assembled a tray with utensils and a napkin and made her way down the hall.

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