Page 66 of Deadly Sins

38Ksenya

AT PRECISELY EIGHT, MITCH KNOCKED at my door. His massive arms and chest bulged out of his black T-shirt, and his green cargo shorts hugged his muscular thighs. His brown eyes softened when he saw me. “Hey, sexy.” He kissed me on the lips, and I fought the urge to kick him in the balls.

But I remembered my plan. It was go time.

I kissed him back, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that until now had been reserved for Grant. I ran my fingers through his hair, pressing my body against his, feeling his cock poke at my skirt. He reacted swiftly, shoving my ass against the door, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Take me inside,” I said between kisses.

“Fuck yeah, baby.”

Once inside my place, after a few more minutes of groping, I pulled away.

I rubbed my hands down my body. “I have surprise for you, Mr. Mitch.”

He growled. “Yeah, baby? Did you bring Autumn?”

God, I didn’t think I could possibly detest this man any more than I already did. “No, but I want to give you the pleasure. Let me take care of my man. First, I made for you the dinner.”

“Kickass. I always knew you Eastern European women were good for something. You all really know how to treat a man. I’m starving. And I plan on eating you for dessert.”

I forced myself to giggle and then set the table, presenting my slaved-over meal. But the food wasn’t the important part of my menu. For the beverage, I served vodka on the rocks, laced with Rohypnol.

I poured two glasses out of his sight. His just laced vodka; mine had only cranberry juice.

Mitch sat down, slapped my ass as I leaned over to serve him. Before he took a single bite, he downed his drink. “Pour me another, babe.”

Fuck. I was scared. I had administered a strong dose, but Mitch was a huge man. What if he realized I’d drugged him? He could kill me. I’d considered using GHB instead, but I couldn’t risk killing him. He deserved to die, but I didn’t want both Cruz children jailed for murder.

I slowly poured another glass of vodka, my premixed liquid doubling his dose. He downed that drink, too.

He pointed at the food. “What did my woman make for me?”

“Pelmeni, it is Russian dumpling, and golubtsi, it is the stuffed cabbage. I hope you like it.”

His head shook a bit as if he was trying to focus. “Looks great. My wife never cooked.” He dug his fork into the plate and began his feast.

I picked at my food, for once not even caring that I was eating animal flesh. I remembered the night I’d been drugged. I’d been having such a good time with my girls, drinking, dancing, and goofing around. I remember my stomach began to churn, and I felt like the room was spinning. I went to rest in a spare bedroom, and that was the last thing I remember.

Until I awoke to a man on top of me, my panties by my feet. I never saw his face, but I’d marked him forever.

But tonight, I had turned the tables.

“You’re a really good cook. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while. I could get used to this.”

Not happening, buddy.

We made small talk for about twenty minutes. The entire time, I was staring at him for any symptoms. Maybe Mitch had tiger blood and was immune.

A lone sweat bead appeared on his forehead, and his skin tinged red.

“Man, it’s getting hot in here. Do you have air?”

Bingo. I walked over to the air-conditioning unit and turned it on.

“Thanks, babe. What did you put in the food? You’re not trying to poison me, are you?

Fuck. Was he kidding? “Funny. Is my cooking very bad?”