Queen of Miami by M?ta Smith

Author:M?ta Smith [SMITH, MéTA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780759572102
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2007-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

EVENTUALLY, MIKHAIL COMES BACK TO THE CABIN. I’M STILL sitting in the same spot I’d been in for at least two or three hours.

“I brought you something,” he says.

“You can’t buy my forgiveness,” I say to him, folding my arms across my chest.

“Good, because I didn’t buy you anything,” he says. I look at him in disbelief. No, he can’t buy my forgiveness, but he can try. He could at least say it with flowers, although jewelry would be better. He should be kissing my pretty ass right now after the way he acted.

Mikhail is holding a silver serving platter with a lid on top.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at it.

“It’s something from my country,” he explains, removing the lid to reveal a glass of milk and some crisp-looking little cookies. “They’re called khvorost. They’re fried cookies with vodka in them.”

“Cookies with vodka?” I ask.

“Sure. They are very popular in Russia. My mother used to make them as a peace offering for me when I was a little boy. She had a very bad temper and sometimes she would take things a little too far. She would get so angry it would frighten me. Sometimes she would even get physical.” Mikhail’s eyes look soft and distant. “I’ve made them for you,” he tells me. He holds out the tray in front of me like a butler.

I take a cookie from the platter and pop it in my mouth.

“This is delicious,” I say, and it’s true. The cookie practically melts on my tongue. Mikhail climbs into bed with me.

“My sweet angel, I don’t want to hurt you. I love you so much. I just can’t bear the thought of you with another man. I’m not used to a woman like you. Women usually do whatever I want without my having to ask. You have a mind of your own. It makes me a little crazy sometimes,” he says.

“You don’t want me to have a mind of my own?” I ask.

“That is not it at all. I want you to stay just the way you are.”

“What about Misty?” I ask him.

“What about her?”

“You let her touch you, you let her kiss you,” I say, choking on my words with disgust. “Do you like her just the way she is?”

“Misty is nothing to me. She never has been, and she never will be. I feel sorry for her; she’s had a really hard life. And I guess that my sympathy for her has made me allow her to behave in a way that isn’t appropriate. I won’t let her come between us,” he says. “I won’t let anyone or anything come between us again, I promise.”

“You’ve got to promise me something else,” I tell him.

“Anything.”

“You can’t ever put your hands on me like that again. I don’t like how you were all in my face. You make me think you wanted to hit me, and that’s the one thing that I will not stand for.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” he says, and seems sincere.

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