Page 16 of Marrying the Silver Fox

I nod. “I was a barista for a while,” I explain, leaning in a little closer. “Worked in a coffee shop. I can make a mean latte.”

She laughs as she picks up a tray full of food and heads to the door. “If you are sure…”

She leaves me to it, and I set about making myself a coffee. It takes me a hot minute to figure out how to work the coffee machine, given that all the writing is in Russian, but I eventually manage to get a handle on it, and make myself a black coffee, something strong enough that I’ll be able to shrug off some of the jet lag that’s still clinging to me. I blow on the coffee and take a sip, turning to lean against the counter—and nearly jump out of my skin when I see someone standing there watching me.

“Jesus!” I exclaim, hand on my chest, nearly spilling the coffee in my surprise.

The man, who looks to be close to Nikolai’s age, grins. “Not Jesus,” he corrects me. “Maxim. And you must be my new sister-in-law.” He doesn’t step forward to extend a hand to me, instead just standing there and looking me up and down as though he’s trying to work out what exactly he thinks of me.

My toes curl slightly. I don’t like this. Feeling as though I’m under such scrutiny, as though he can see straight through me.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer, after a long silence.

“So, you’re the one foolish enough to marry my brother, hmm?” he remarks, as he brushes past me to make himself a coffee. He works the machine with ease, clearly practiced in it, and I step aside to give him space to work.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply. “Guess I am.”

“My condolences,” he retorts, and he grins again, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re…his brother?”

“Maxim,” he replies. “But most people just call me Max. He hasn’t told you about me?”

“No,” I admit, racking my brain for some way I can make this sound natural. “We…we got married in kind of a hurry.”

“Oh?” he replies, his voice quirking upward with interest, and I fear I might have said something I shouldn’t have.

“Yeah, I mean, when you know, you know, right?” I reply casually. “We met when I was planning a wedding for one of his friends, and I just decided…well, that I was done planning everyone else’s wedding when I wanted to have one of my own.”

“How romantic.”

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not, but either way, something about his tone sets me on edge.

He takes a sip of his coffee, not moving his eyes from me for a moment. “Well, I have to admit, he did well,” he remarks bluntly. “You’re very beautiful.”

My cheeks flush slightly. I’m not used to be surveyed like this, and it throws me off to think that I’m just some prize that he’s taking his time to drink in.

“Thank you,” I reply, and I quickly turn the subject back to him. “So, are you married? Do I have a sister-in-law I’ll get to meet too?”

“Not yet,” he replies, taking a step toward me. “Though if you have any suggestions, I’m all ears…”

I stare at him, unsure what to make of such a suggestion. The way he says it, it’s as though he imagines I have some fitting bride in my back pocket, ready to whip out and hand over to him at a moment’s notice. But then, with the way he’s looking at me, it’s almost like he thinks I might be the answer to that question, even though I’m married to his brother.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” I reply brightly, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’m sure there are plenty of lovely girls who’d be pleased to meet someone from a family as, uh…distinguished as yours.”

“Rich, you mean?” he asks bluntly.

My head jerks back in surprise. “No, I mean⁠—”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he adds, lowering his voice as though to make sure I’m the only one to hear this. “You’re much younger than my brother. Nobody would think anything of you choosing to marry him because you wanted some of that financial security. God knows, I can’t see any other reason a woman as beautiful as you would choose to be with someone like him.”

I laugh nervously. I can’t tell if he’s joking.

Shit, I can’t tell anything when it comes to this guy, and it bothers the hell out of me. I don’t like feeling as though I can’t get my feet underneath me in any conversation, and this man seems to take great pleasure in leaving me standing on uneven ground.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting for him to laugh, to welcome me to the family, to warn me that this kind of playfulness is just part and parcel of what I can expect now that I’m in the midst of things. But he doesn’t. He just sips on his coffee again and looks back at me, as though waiting to see just how I’m going to respond.

Before I can, I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn with relief to find Nikolai making his way toward us. I grin as soon as I see him, rushing to his side before he can so much as say a word and resting my hand on his chest. “Nikolai, there you are.”