them all so fast, your head will spin. As your friend, it is my privilege to ensure that you are okay, and I will do that any way I have to. Now agree or prepare for the blitz.”
Chapter Eleven
Irina
I took the deal like a champ and spent three days watching a chef, or whatever, totally take over my space and tell me what I should be doing to make my products a winner, as if I need it!
I took that hit and took it with at least some grace, only to turn around on Friday morning and see Luka leaning against the kitchen door at half past five in the morning, scowling at me.
“You look like shit.”
I roll my eyes at the great hulking asshole as he saunters in and hops onto my worktable, snatching up a freshly iced red velvet mini cake.
“Thanks. What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his penetrating look and going on with my job, which is the only thing keeping me together right now.
I love my family, but they’re smothering me to death most of the time, and having the peacekeeper known as Luka just waltz in unannounced is a sure sign that I’m about to get some bad news.
“Mama got a call from the orphanage this morning.”
Oh shit.
I’ve been digging a little, doing some research about finding my birth mother, but I’ve kept it quiet because I know my family. It would hurt my parents dreadfully if they thought the life they’d given me and their love wasn’t enough.
This whole thing was always just about knowing, not really having contact with someone who’d given me up so easily.
But my mamen’ka is a firecracker, and dramatic to boot. She cries when the roses die, for goodness’ sake! This would hurt her. A lot.
I look up at Luka with tear-filled eyes and finally see the depth of his anger and feel my knees buckle when not one ounce of the love I’m familiar with trickles forth.
“I was just curious, Luka. I never wanted anyone to know,” I plead, fighting against tears when he slowly gets off the table and looks down at me balefully.
“You’re selfish, Irina. Selfish and spoiled. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done,” he hisses before turning on his heel to stalk out.
‘No! Luka, please,” I beg, grabbing at his arm.
“Don’t!” he grates, flinging me off in distaste, his face a mask of fury even as the force of his push sends me crashing back into the corner of the table with a gasp.
My knees buckle beneath me and I fall to my knees, the breath completely knocked out of me as the door slams open and shut rhythmically.
My back hurts where I hit the metal corner of the table, and my ankle isn’t that happy with me, either, as I take in huge breaths of air and fight the need to cry.
It hurts so much, everything all at once, that I don’t notice the first intruder, or the second or third until they’re right on top of me.
And then my shitty morning turns to hell as I scream my head off and crumple to the floor in defeat.
***
I stand with the fumigators going over costs and estimates as Nik and the rest of the girls turn customers away from the door, the arguing and downright unpleasantness taking over and causing the throbbing in my head to go postal on me.
It’s been four hours since I found those first rats in my bakery. If anyone finds out about this, I’ll be ruined and I’ll have no hope of ever getting back in business.
My skin crawls again and I drop my head into my hands at the monumental mess my life has become. My family hates me, not one of them will answer my calls, and my business is closed for the next week, at least, as they tear the kitchen apart trying to clean it all up.
“Fuck my life!” I yell at the top of my lungs, causing both exterminators to jump back and watch me wearily as the tears start flowing.
I want to crawl home and eat a gallon of ice cream even as the lure of booze starts calling my name.
“Ma’am?” one of them asks hesitantly, laying a hand on my quaking shoulders to pat me softly. “It’s not all that
Chapter Eleven
Irina
I took the deal like a champ and spent three days watching a chef, or whatever, totally take over my space and tell me what I should be doing to make my products a winner, as if I need it!
I took that hit and took it with at least some grace, only to turn around on Friday morning and see Luka leaning against the kitchen door at half past five in the morning, scowling at me.
“You look like shit.”
I roll my eyes at the great hulking asshole as he saunters in and hops onto my worktable, snatching up a freshly iced red velvet mini cake.
“Thanks. What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his penetrating look and going on with my job, which is the only thing keeping me together right now.
I love my family, but they’re smothering me to death most of the time, and having the peacekeeper known as Luka just waltz in unannounced is a sure sign that I’m about to get some bad news.
“Mama got a call from the orphanage this morning.”
Oh shit.
I’ve been digging a little, doing some research about finding my birth mother, but I’ve kept it quiet because I know my family. It would hurt my parents dreadfully if they thought the life they’d given me and their love wasn’t enough.
This whole thing was always just about knowing, not really having contact with someone who’d given me up so easily.
But my mamen’ka is a firecracker, and dramatic to boot. She cries when the roses die, for goodness’ sake! This would hurt her. A lot.
I look up at Luka with tear-filled eyes and finally see the depth of his anger and feel my knees buckle when not one ounce of the love I’m familiar with trickles forth.
“I was just curious, Luka. I never wanted anyone to know,” I plead, fighting against tears when he slowly gets off the table and looks down at me balefully.
“You’re selfish, Irina. Selfish and spoiled. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done,” he hisses before turning on his heel to stalk out.
‘No! Luka, please,” I beg, grabbing at his arm.
“Don’t!” he grates, flinging me off in distaste, his face a mask of fury even as the force of his push sends me crashing back into the corner of the table with a gasp.
My knees buckle beneath me and I fall to my knees, the breath completely knocked out of me as the door slams open and shut rhythmically.
My back hurts where I hit the metal corner of the table, and my ankle isn’t that happy with me, either, as I take in huge breaths of air and fight the need to cry.
It hurts so much, everything all at once, that I don’t notice the first intruder, or the second or third until they’re right on top of me.
And then my shitty morning turns to hell as I scream my head off and crumple to the floor in defeat.
***
I stand with the fumigators going over costs and estimates as Nik and the rest of the girls turn customers away from the door, the arguing and downright unpleasantness taking over and causing the throbbing in my head to go postal on me.
It’s been four hours since I found those first rats in my bakery. If anyone finds out about this, I’ll be ruined and I’ll have no hope of ever getting back in business.
My skin crawls again and I drop my head into my hands at the monumental mess my life has become. My family hates me, not one of them will answer my calls, and my business is closed for the next week, at least, as they tear the kitchen apart trying to clean it all up.
“Fuck my life!” I yell at the top of my lungs, causing both exterminators to jump back and watch me wearily as the tears start flowing.
I want to crawl home and eat a gallon of ice cream even as the lure of booze starts calling my name.
“Ma’am?” one of them asks hesitantly, laying a hand on my quaking shoulders to pat me softly. “It’s not all that
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