reached to at least a ten-foot ceiling and the granite countertops were thicker than any she’d ever seen before. The room was broken into two halves—a cooking area with an island in the center and a breakfast counter to one side with barstools tucked beneath it, and a dining area with a bay window that overlooked the backyard. A farmhouse table sat centered in the middle of the space.
A rotund woman just a few inches shorter than Roman stood near the island surrounded by stainless steel appliances more appropriate for a five-star restaurant than a house. She looked up from whatever she was stirring, a wisp of gray hair falling from her tight bun. She locked onto Bonnie first, then Cassie behind her, and finally on Roman. The sharp declaration that followed held a Russian accent even thicker than Roman’s. “You brought guests.”
Heat blanketed her back a second before Roman’s hand settled on her shoulder. He answered back with just as bold of a reply, but every word was in Russian.
The woman’s shrewd gaze cut to Roman’s hand and up to Bonnie’s face. A tiny smile tugged one corner of her mouth, a fact Bonnie was pretty sure rarely happened given the deeply etched frown lines on her forehead. She gave her attention back to Roman. “As you say. Now introduce us.”
Bonnie murmured to Cassie. “I don’t get it. What did he say?”
“Beats me,” she whispered back. “I only know the sexy stuff and the dirty words so far.”
Roman shifted to her side and motioned to the woman. “Bonnie, this is Olga. She came with Sergei from Russia and manages his kitchen.”
“Yeah, I kinda gathered that from the accent and the chef’s clothes.” Bonnie hustled forward and held out her hand over the counter-height bar that separated them. “I’m Bonnie Drummond.”
For a moment, Olga stared at Bonnie’s outstretched hand like she’d offered a pig’s foot instead of a handshake. She got herself in gear pretty quick, though, and returned the gesture. “Welcome to our home. You will stay for dinner. Tonight, we have gumbo.”
Oh, she’d picked that up the second she walked in the back door. Any native Louisianan could pick that dish up on scent alone. And what was it with people telling her what to do instead of asking? Maybe it was a Russian thing. “I appreciate it, but you don’t need to do that. I’ll head home just as soon as Roman gives me the all clear.”
“You will stay,” Roman said, his tone a little lighter than Olga’s, but still formed as a directive. He shifted his focus to Cassie behind her. “I have calls to make. You will not leave without your guards.”
Cassie gave him a mock salute and an even sassier, “Yes, sir!”
He looked to Bonnie and held out his hand. “Give me your phone and your address.”
“My phone?”
“It’s a security thing,” Cassie said, moving in closer. “First order of business is shutting down tracking options. Trust me. Been there. Done that.”
“But what if my dad or Kev try to call me?”
“Then I will answer,” Roman said. “You will not.”
“Geesh.” Sighing, Bonnie motioned to the bag still in Roman’s hand. “Side pocket.”
Roman lifted it like it weighed nothing, snatched the ancient device she’d bought secondhand from a bar customer and stuffed it in his coat pocket. “What else do you have?”
“Come again?”
“Other electronics. What else do you have?”
She dipped her head toward the bag. “Just my laptop, but I’ve got the location services turned off already. So it’s good.”
Ignoring her completely, he unzipped the backpack and slid the shiny Mac free. “Better not to assume. I will check it. Now your address.”
“Is please in your vocabulary?”
He cocked that infernal eyebrow again.
“Fine.” Actually, not fine. But at the moment she couldn’t figure out an alternative for wiggling out of the situation she’d created by calling Cassie for help. At least not without looking like a complete asshole. “St. Ann’s apartments. Corner of North Prieur and St. Ann Street.”
“Which unit?”
“104C.”
A whole lot of calculation seemed to move behind his eyes. Whether he was plotting the physical location in his head, or just committing the information to memory was anyone’s guess. He jerked a hard nod. “You will stay. You will eat. You will be safe.”
With that, he turned and stalked toward the wide arched opening at the far end of the kitchen.
“Anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” she said to his back.
Olga and Cassie both cackled in unison, but it was Cassie who answered. “Get used to