Chapter 15: Mae Kazimi

"I'll spare your fingers if you tell me who poisoned Alek," I say in a low voice, fingers expertly chopping the carrots on the hardwood, each chop harder than the last. "It will be a secret just between the two of us."

"Signorina, spare me, please," says the old cook and I can feel her body shake beside me. "I swear I don't know."

Liar.

I stand in the large Russo mansion kitchen. Ten minutes ago I'd secretly slipped into the kitchen after following the cook around for a while. I'd tried to get as much information as I could off of her, but there was nothing strange about her. But if she hadn't been the one to poison Alek, who could've possibly done it?

And so, I approached her. After all, it's the least suspicious who are always the culprits.

"You have five minutes, old woman," I say under my breath as I bring down the knife and make her jump. "My patience is running thin."

The cook swallows and her fingers shake as she slides the carrots off the board and into a plate. I watch her slowly head to the fridge, taking my time to take in the beautiful kitchen and drink in its beauty. It's horribly polished and clean, every surface spotless and sparkling. The long black table sits in the dining room with chairs that look like thrones. All the kitchen surfaces are a shiny black marble and silver metal that glint under the low chandeliers above, the floor glittering ebony.

I turn my attention back to the cook as she begins to clean off the counter, putting dishes away in the dishwasher and wiping the top with a wet cloth.

"Two minutes," I remind her, and point to the clock. "Time's ticking."

The cook says nothing, eyes cast downwards as she tosses the rag into the garbage and tries to slip out of the kitchen.

I pull out my knife, slamming its hilt inches away from where her fingers are on the kitchen's counter, "Speak."

"Step mother," she rasps, hand jumping straight to her heart. "Please, I-"

"Get out of here," is all I say, head shaking in disappointment. I'm not surprised. "And keep this between us."

The cook bows, making me blink. She wipes a tear from her eye and rushes out of the kitchen as fast as she can, her small apron flying behind her.

I stay where I am, back faced to the cupboards and hand still on the hilt of my knife against the counter. I'm breathing hard, eyes narrowed at a spot on the wall that I don't even realize that there's someone behind me until they speak.

"Stop attacking my cook," says Alek a little breathlessly. "She puts food in your mouth."

"The food your father pays for," I say immediately. I'm in a horrible mood and seeing him isn't improving it. "I thought you were dying."

There's a long pause.

"I was."

I turn around, dropping my knife and leaning on the counter. Across from me, Alek is shirtless with only loose black pants hanging low on his hips. I take a moment to admire his back, drinking in the smooth skin and his broad shoulders. I let my eyes follow the tattoo that is etched on his skin, lips slightly apart.

Can a man's back possibly be this attractive or am I hallucinating?

"Are you done staring?" he asks without turning around, his voice rough.

I blink, "no, not quite"

He doesn't say anything when I don't reply and continues to do whatever he's doing with his back turned to me. I frown, curiosity taking the better of me and I make my way towards him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, stopping beside him and peeking over the side of his muscled right arm. "Is that….what is that?"

"It's coffee," he deadpans. "I'm trying to make coffee."

"Coffee?" I ask in a horrified voice, staring at whatever the hell he's mixing in a small bowl. "Has anyone ever taught you how to make coffee?"

"Well no, I don't really have time for that-"

I snatch the bowl from his hands, making a disgusted face at whatever is inside before dropping it into the sink. His eyes narrow and he turns to me, "Why the fuck did you do that? I was making coffee!"

"Well, that's not how you make it."

"So what now? I don't drink it?"

I cross my arms over my chest, "I'll make you coffee if you make me a sandwich."

"Why a sandwich?" he glowers, voice on an edge.

I smile sweetly at him and pat his shoulder, "Because you can't make anything else, you uneducated swine."

He raises his eyebrows at the insult, eyes glinting as if he's about to run me over with a kitchen knife. And then, he says something that surprises me.

"I can cook," he snaps, making his way to grab a pan. "I can cook very well. In fact, why don't I prove it to you?"

"Hell no," I say quickly, stepping back as he makes his way towards the stove. "You're going to poison me!"

He scoffs, already pulling out ingredients from cupboards and plates from their holders. I keep moving back to stay out of his way as he moves swiftly in the kitchen, and I can't help but admire his muscled abs that flex every time he moves. He doesn't even seem to realize I'm watching him, his eyes intent on the food that is already steaming in the pan.

"And mango juice," I add as he cooks. "I want mango juice."

"That's disgusting," he mutters, flipping something in his hand. "You're disgusting."

"Excuse me-"

"Sh."

There is a long, long moment of awkward silence where Alek continues to move around the kitchen, leaving me to stare at him angrily.

"Fine. I'll….um….make you coffee," I mutter.

He hums, and I'm pretty sure he has no idea what I even said. Grumbling, I reach for the coffee machine.

If I knew Alek would have started making a whole ass family dinner if I asked him for one sandwich, I would have never asked for a sandwich in the first place. But I don't regret it now, of course.

I mean why would I? I get a whole view of a five course meal moving in the flesh in front of my eyes.

I mean, look. I know he stole two million dollars from my bank account three years ago, but like….who cares right? I already made twice the amount of that, and I'd forgotten about it anyway. Who cares about the two million dollars when I have a six foot something Italian mafia heir standing before me without a shirt and cooking me a whole family dinner with six course meals and-

Mae, if you don't fucking shut up and get your mind out of the gutter.

I snap back to reality and mentally slap myself. Of course I care about that two million bucks. We could totally bang though, and then I could steal his money. Except he hates me and would never let me touch him in the first place.

I let out a loud sigh as Alek flips something that smells really good in the pan. I rip my eyes off his muscles and awfully fine looking back and turn to the coffee machine.

Time to make the Italian mafia heir some coffee.

______________________

The fact that Alek Russo cooked a whole ass family dinner with six course meals right after being poisoned and laying on his deathbed is kind of….crazy.

No, it's insane.

But do I care?

Hell nah. He even gave me my mango juice. Two full cups.

It's been only fifteen minutes since I've eaten basically everything that he'd set on the table and he's already up and moving again as if sitting in one place pains him.

Or perhaps it's my presence and he can't stand being in the same room as me.

Yeah, it's definitely me.

In the past two to three hours, he's not spoken to me once. Not even when I passed his coffee to him over the table and waited for his reaction as he sipped it slowly, eyes on his plate.

And nothing.

I'd thanked him for the food of course, just like Hale taught me as a child. Unlike him, I had manners.

But now, as I lay on the sofa in one of the many large living rooms in the Russo Mansion, I ponder over whether I should tell Alek about what the cook said. Would it anger him? Would he kill her? Would he throw a fit and go straight to his stepmother?

I would tell him about it when he was not home so he wouldn't barge into his step mothers house.

Last night, when we got back with the poison doses, the doctor had instantly gotten to work. He'd fixed up a cure for Alek in mere hours. And, he was already up making whole ass family dinners to prove to me that he can cook. What the hell.

I check the time on my phone.

10 pm.

"Kazimi," Alek barks.

I look up with a loud yawn, trying not to feel disappointed that he slipped a shirt on, "What now, Russo?"

"Call your friends and tell them to meet us at the Redbull. We have things to discuss and I believe they can be valuable."

"Excuse me? It's 10 pm! Why can't we do this tomorrow?"

He ignores me, running his eyes over my body shamelessly, "And change, for God's sake. You look horrendous."

"Thanks," I mutter, getting to my feet. "What's so important that can't wait till tomorrow?"

"Our lives," he says dryly before adding. "I'll be waiting for you outside in my car."

Before I can open my mouth, he's already strutting out of the living room, and I can't help but let my jaw hang.

It's 10 freaking pm!!! I want to do nothing but to curl up in bed and sleep.

Does this man never rest?

"Fine!" I snap, stomping my way back to my room. "I hope your car gets a flat tire on the way!"

And to my surprise, I hear him snort from the distance before he says, "I'll make you push the car the rest of the way."

I turn to give him a piece of my mind, but he's already slinking away into the shadows and out of the room.