✿ Ulyana's POV

A smile played on my face at the delicious scent that floated through the air.

Food. And trust your wolfish nose to lead you right to it.

I was led into a rather small kitchen. For a house this size, I was expecting less homey, and more pizzazz. On a small kitchen island sat a meal and a large mug that held the coffee. The aroma from the plated food made my stomach growl.

I hadn't eaten much the whole of yesterday and my 'husband' didn't bother himself about it. I took a seat and picked up the mug.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!!!” I exclaimed, spitting the coffee back into the mug.

Why would I suppose the coffee would be hot? And who even drinks coffee without sugar or cream these days?

I stuck my tongue out and fanned it with my hand for a bit. Frowning at the coffee, I pushed it back and turned my attention to the disorganized-looking meal on the plate.

“What is this?” I muttered.

It looked messy but it smelt great. So I took my phone out, took a picture, and let it run through the internet as I stirred my coffee. The search results came in shortly.

“The Kentucky hot brown” I read out. “Open-face sandwich... that explains the messy look. Ingredients include thinly sliced turkey breast, a smooth and creamy Mornay sauce, ouuu crisp bacon, tomatoes, and a slice of toasted bread.”

How haven't I had one of these before?

I picked up the fork and knife set aside on a napkin and cut myself a healthy slice.

“Oh wow,” I moaned, surprising myself. “This is some good stuff.”

I forked another piece into my mouth, bobbing my head.

I wonder what else I'm missing out on.

Cutting the crust off the bread, I swallowed two more bites and then stood up to go find the sugar and creamer.

“Where is it?” I muttered, loudly opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“Who's there?” a voice called out. “Mr. MacQuoid?”

I turned and a middle-aged woman was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in a white off-shoulder neckline dress with a cape detailed with small colorful hand-embroidered flower patterns.

The skirt of the dress was adorned with a wide tulle flight full of flowers embroidered in silk thread of multiple bright colors such as yellow, pink, and blue, that flowed to the floor with several folds and flights.

Her dark hair was pinned in a neat bun, a bunch of sweet-smelling flowers, skillfully pinned to hold the hair in place.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Slowly, her brows narrowed, as if trying to understand or recall something.

“You're Mr. MacQuoid's bride” She stated but rather felt like a question as she took steps closer and my eyes followed all the way.

A bright infectious smile played on her face and I couldn't help smiling as well even if I really had no idea who this woman was.

“Yes,” I replied in the end and her excitement broadened as she clapped her hands.

“Ay, you're so beautiful! I truly apologize for not being present the moment you got here. I had a little problem to take care of and you know... I didn't realize time had gone by so quickly” She narrated and all I did was nod my head.

“Oh, forgive my manners,” she caught herself, “I'm—”

“Casio's wife” I cut in, funky figuring it out.

She grinned.

“Sí. My name's Pepita. My husband and I are the caretakers here.”

“Nice to meet you, Pepita” I smiled, stretching my hand toward her.

There was a slight hesitation on her part but she accepted my handshake in the end.

“It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. MacQuoid.”

“Ulyana. My name's Ulyana. You can call me that instead of Mrs. MacQuoid, please” I added before we let go of the handshake and she nodded in understanding.

“Of course.”

I smiled. She looked around the kitchen.

“Did you need anything?”

“Oh yes, I was just looking for—”

“Right, breakfast” she interrupted. “I'm truly sorry. I should have come to get you when I finished making it.”

“Oh no, don't worry about it. The sandwich is—”

“Please come with me. You must be famished.”

“But I already started—”

She took my hand in hers and gently led me out of the kitchen.

Okay?

I followed her, the skirt of her dress swishing elegantly. I smiled.

“I like your vestido,” I said, making her pause.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Just a little” I confessed. “My nanny's Mexican so I picked up a few phrases growing up.”

She nodded.

“But your dress is really pretty. And the flowers in your hair... smell great” I laughed a bit.

“Gracias Ulyana.”

I nodded.

“You're welcome.”

She kept walking and I followed her.

“Err... where are we going?”

“Why the kitchen of course. Your breakfast is ready.”

I made a face.

“Isn't the kitchen the one we just left?”

“Oh, no. That's Mr. MacQuoid's personal kitchen. He likes to make his own food most of the time.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Oh shit!

I just sipped and spat back Zoltan's coffee and ate more than half of his sandwich.

“Oh he's going to kill me” I muttered.

Pepita whipped around and stopped when she caught how far I'd fallen behind.

“Is anything the matter?”

I shook my head.

“No, no. Everything's fine.”

“Well let's go, it's just through here.”

I nodded and watched her take a left turn. I followed and the pizzazz kitchen I was expecting to see was exactly what I got.

Large kitchen island and seatings, waxed floors, a million tiny lights built into the ceiling, every damn kitchen appliance you could think of, and shinned up pots and pans for days.

“Please take a seat and have your breakfast.”

My eyes moved to the food lined up for me.

All that?

“Wait, that's my breakfast?” I asked.

“Most important meal of the day.”

She sounded like Cholo. There was something made with chicken wrap, eggs, bacon, toast, beef breakfast burritos, coffee that came along with sugar and cream as an option, and even several fruit juices.

“I'll leave you to eat” Pepita smiled at me.

“Wait, you're not eating with me?”

She tapped her stomach.

“I already ate.”

“But I can't possibly eat all of this.”

“Just eat what you can. I'll take care of the rest.”

I nodded.

“If you need anything, just let me know. Excuse me.”

She ducked out of the kitchen.

“Well, don't mind if I do” I smiled to myself and took a seat.

Halfway through my second burrito and my third cup of coffee, Pepita's name echoed through the house. But it wasn't me who called, nor was it her husband.

It was Zoltan... and his footsteps were heading toward me.

Shit!

“Don't make eye contact” I muttered to myself and picked up my coffee mug.

“Pep—”

His cologne filled the air and I kept my eyes glued to the coffee in my mug as I pressed it to my lips.

One, two, three, four.

Bam!

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, slapping the ceramic plate with the more than half-eaten sandwich on the island.

I was surprised it didn't break.

Don't make eye contact, Ulyana!

“I asked a question, Ulyana. What. is. the meaning of this?” he growled deeply.

I flicked my eyes around him to the entrance in case Pepita was there. She was not and so I set my coffee down and met his eyes.

“Good morning to you too, Zoltan. Did you sleep well?”

“Cut the crap and start talking. What the fuck is this?” he pointed to his plate.

“A sandwich?” I replied. “What, do you not like it?”

“I won't be able to tell because someone ate it.”

I jabbed at the sandwich with a spoon.

“Do you not see the sandwich on this plate?”

He slapped my spoon away.

“Hey!”

“Who ate it?”

“I don't know” I looked away. “Wasn't it you?”

“If it was me would I be complaining?”

“Well you do that a lot so—”

His eyes flamed and I stopped.

“I don't know okay?”

“You don't?”

“No. And if it wasn't you who ate it then it must have been a rat.”

Zoltan eased back.

“A rat?”

“Yeah. It's not a ghost because ghosts aren't real. So it must have been a rat... a really big and hungry rat” I eyed what little was left of the large sandwich.

“The cutlery was stained, Ulyana.”

I shrugged.

“It must have been Remy then.”

Zoltan frowned.

“Who the fuck is Remy?!” he asked, his anger firing up again.

Easy now.

“The rat from Ratatouille.”

Zoltan shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a breath. He wasn't that close to me but I could smell mint in his breath.

“Look, I don't know who ate your Kentucky hot brown, and as much as I'd love to meet them and shake their hand because I hate you, I pause on that and offer you some of my breakfast. I'm not a completely horrible person like you. So...” I picked up a plate and held it out to him, “Have some bacon and eggs.”

The words barely had a second to set as Zoltan slapped the plate out of my hand.

“Zoltan!”

He plucked my fork out of my hand and stabbed it in his sandwich.

“You cut off the crust of your bread. My sandwich also had its crust cut off. I know it was you who ate my food, Ulyana. And if there's one thing I hate more than you, it's liars. But of course, feel free to become one. It keeps my hatred for you burning.”

In my defense, I didn't even know he had his own kitchen or made his own food.

I wasn't sure what I was opening my mouth to say but Pepita hurried in.

“Mr. MacQuoid you called?”

Zoltan leaned away from me and my breath rushed out.

“Yes. I was looking for my wife” he said before facing away from me.

“I was outside the house and I didn't hear you—” she trailed off and a small gasp left her lips at the sight of the spilled food and broken plate on the waxed floor.

“Oh, what happened?”

“Clumsy me” I quickly replied, getting up.

“Oh. I'll just get a broom and—”

“No, no, Pepita. I got it. My mess. I'll fix it” I said, locking eyes with Zoltan who still looked furious. “I'll just...”

I dragged myself to the mess and knelt to pick up the pieces of the broken glass.

“Please be careful. The material used for the plate tends to—”

A piece slipped through my fumbling fingers and slashed my palm. I hissed.

“—cut people” Pepita finished.

I turned my face away from my bleeding hand.

“Yep, and it's not a pretty cut.”

“Oh no,” Pepita cried, hurrying to help me up from the ground.

“Pepita, I heard Mr. MacQuoid calling for oh” Casio walked in. “Good morning sir.”

I caught Zoltan's stiff nod, his eyes glued to Pepita leading me back into my chair.

“Cas, get the first aid kit. The lady's injured.”

“Oh. I'll be right back.”

The man hurried off and Pepita wrapped something around my cut.

“We'll fix you up very quickly okay?”

I nodded, not looking at her. Zoltan stood there, not flinching. Casio hurried back with a well-equipped first aid kit. He brought a bowl with water too and I put my hand in, wiggling it around to wash the blood.

“Is it a deep cut?” Casio asked me.

I chuckled.

“I don't know... I can't exactly look” I confessed.

That got Zoltan to flinch.

“Oh. Well then close your eyes. We wouldn't want you to collapse” Pepita said.

I shook my head, my face away from them as I continued to speak.

“I don't collapse. I just get a bit uncomfortable seeing my own blood—”

Something cold trickled onto my cut and I hissed, feeling my face flush.

“Sorry,” Pepita whispered. “How long have you known?”

I smiled.

“I know what you're trying to do. Keep me talking so I don't feel it so much when you—”

She applied something else and I hissed again, shutting my eyes.

“—do that” I finished.

“One more then you're good as new” she assured.

I hummed a response and held my breath, waiting for the next sting. But when she applied whatever she did next, it didn't burn. I turned to face her.

“Hey, that didn't hurt at—aaahhh!” I exclaimed, slapping the counter.

It traveled through my head and I swear I tasted it in my mouth.

“What is that?” I asked the moment the pain began to ease away bit by bit.

“An ancient family healing herbal mix” Casio smiled. “I'll wrap your hand for you.”

He was gentle... unlike his herbal mix. They cleaned up afterwards and Casio walked out to return the first aid kit.

“You should finish the rest of your breakfast and go take a nap,” Pepita said.

I shook my head.

“I think your herbal mix killed what's left of my appetite.”

She laughed.

“Very well. I'll get someone to take care of the rest.”

I nodded. She turned to Zoltan, eyeing the coffee mug that still sat in his hand.

“Have you not had your breakfast yet, Mr. MacQuoid?”

He looked at me.

“No. Something came up.”

“Would you like me to fix something for you?”

Zoltan shook his head.

“No thank you, Pepita. I'll just make myself some avocado toast with pumpkin seeds and a kale salad.”

That's what he eats to look this good?

I must have made a throaty sound because Zoltan and Pepita looked at me. I smiled and Zoltan rolled his eyes.

“I'll just finish my coffee and do just that.”

Wait, wait!

Finish his coffee?!

I spat out that coffee into his coffee. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the thought of Zoltan swallowing my saliva.

“Equivalent to kissing” my wolf teased.

I must have been staring at the mug in his hand with a look on my face because Zoltan swallowed the coffee and brought the mug down from his lips, holding it out to Pepita.

“You know what, I'll make a fresh batch,” he said. “Pour this out and discard the mug.”

Oh boy.

“Discard the mug as in... throw it away?” Pepita asked.

Zoltan nodded.

“Why? Is something the matter with the mug? Do you not like the color anymore? I'll be more than glad to change it for you.”

“Nothing like that, Pepita. Just throw it away.”

He met my eyes.

“After all, the rats might have gotten to it first.”

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

✿ Zoltan's POV

“I just get a bit uncomfortable seeing my own blood.”

What kind of werewolf got uncomfortable with seeing their own blood? And why would she eat my breakfast and then lie about it?

She was just out to get me, but I wasn't going to let her. And I wasn't going to let her get away with this either.

I'm sure she thought of spiking my coffee with the way she was looking at my mug.

And poor Pepita was going around looking for the rats in question. She had even called pest control to fumigate later in the day.

“... Are you even listening to me, Zoltan?”

I turned my face to my laptop's screen.

“Yeah,” I lied.

I'd forgotten Warren was there.

“Now that we've gotten work out of the way, do you want to hear what shit that woman is trying to pull now?”

“I need a damn Daniels for this,” I mumbled as I pushed myself up and headed straight for the bottle of Jack Daniels I'd set aside.

I didn’t care that it was only two in the afternoon. If Warren was about to rant about Claire, day drinking was the way to go.

“She wants us to choreograph a dance, Zoltan. A fucking dance.”

“And?” I asked when I swallowed my drink. “You're agreeing?”

“Do I have a choice?” he groaned. “You know how she is. And she's going to make your aunt guilt me into it either way. At least she didn’t ask me to sing a song for her,” he grumbled.

I knew what he was hinting at and I rolled my eyes.

“Why are you doing this when you clearly don't want to?” I asked.

He sighed.

“I have no choice, man.”

I eyed him.

“Did you get her pregnant?”

He let out a laugh.

“Immaculate conception maybe. You know we don't even kiss, Zoltan. So sex is out of the equation.”

“People have sex without kissing,” I said into my glass and then sipped my drink.

Warren arched a brow at me.

“And you know that because...?”

“It's a possibility. And don't get any ideas. Ulyana and I don't even sleep in the same bed.”

“People have sex without sleeping in the same bed” he leaned into his seat, “And who mentioned your wife?”

I frowned.

“Whatever. Look, I’m gonna go. Need to shower. I’m all gross from being out, and I need to make some lunch since I didn't have breakfast.”

“You didn't have breakfast? Why?”

I sighed deeply.

“Long story, Warr.”

“Please tell me you've already started torturing your wife.”

His statement got me to chuckle.

“I don’t have time to torture her.”

“Liar. You should be nice to her, Zolt. She’s a sweet gal.”

“How do you even know? You’ve had one conversation with her. Containing one sentence. And if you were married to her, you'd know she's far from sweet.”

“Better her than Claire” he muttered, “And she’s lived with you for the last two days and still hasn't tried to murder you. That’s a huge indication that she’s way too nice.”

My coffee.

I tried not to roll my eyes over the fact that my own best friend was taking Ulyana’s side.

“Whatever. Hang up.”

He shook his head.

“You're something else, Zoltan. I'll call you later.”

“Don't.”

He laughed and the line went dead. I sighed and turned up the air conditioning in my room, then proceeded to finish some paperwork before heading downstairs for lunch.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

Several harsh blows landed on my bedroom door.

“What the...”

I tossed my pen on the table and moved to the entryway. When I put my eye down to the peephole, the person out there was covering it. And that could only mean one thing.

“What the heck, Ulyana?” I yanked the door open. “Why are you banging on my door like you’ve completely lost it? I’m—”

My words died on my tongue when I got a look at her. Ulyana was standing before me in nothing but a towel.

A small towel.

Like so tiny I was certain if she were to bend over, I would see everything.

And damn, a part of me wanted to make her bend over.

Her legs looked even longer in the scrap of material, and it hugged all her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination. The long dark brown hair that was usually hanging down her back was swept up in a hair clip.

Her skin was dewy like she’d just gotten out of the shower and didn’t properly dry off.

Shit. Now I’m imagining her in the shower.

“Seriously?” Her wintry tone dragged me from my fantasy.

She crossed her arms over her ample chest, the petite towel rising with the movement. Her honey-brown eyes were trained on me, formed into thin slits.

Ulyana wasn’t here to show me how sexy she looked in next to nothing. She was pissed and looking for a fight.

One I wasn't going to let her win.

I smirked, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Ulyana,” I said coolly. “To what do I owe”—I trailed my eyes up and down her body—“this pleasure?”

She flipped me the finger.

“You turned off the water supply to my bathroom!” she accused.

I arched a brow.

“I did?”

I did.

“Yes, you did!”

I rolled my eyes.

“And why would I do that?”

“To get back at me for eating your breakfast this morning.”

I cocked my head at her.

“I thought it was Remy.”

She frowned.

“You leave that rat out of this!”

This was too easy.

“Fix it” she warned.

“I’m not letting you use my bathroom, Ulyana.”

“What? Ugh!” She groaned, tossing her head back, her towel slipping down her breasts just a fraction of an inch. “I don’t want to use your bathroom. I’d rather cut off my big toe with a rusty spoon than share a bathroom with you again.”

“That’s not true. You looked like you enjoyed yourself last time.”

“I highly, highly doubt that. There’s nothing to enjoy when I'm around you.”

“Oh, Ulyana, I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want. It’s the truth.” She gives me a pointed look. “Just fix my fucking water supply, Zoltan.”

“You know what? No. I don’t think I will.”

“If you don’t, I’m going to—”

“What?” I cut her off, “If I don't you're going to what? Steal all my clothes? Poison my coffee? Label everything I own as 'ours'?”

She huffed.

“You know, I’m beginning to think the whole reason you came over here was to show off that tiny towel of yours. Does someone have a sexual agenda with me?”

“What? No! You are seriously insane! Utterly fucking deranged!” she sneered.

“I happen to think I’m perfectly sane.”

Her eyes fell back to menacing slits as she took a threatening step toward me. I’d be terrified if I wasn’t eager to see her next move... and if she wasn't turning me on so much even though I hated it.

“Turn. The. Water. Back. On.”

I invaded her space right back.

“No.”

“Turn it on, Zoltan.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.”

She was fast... I’ll give her that. Ulyana pushed past me like it was no obstacle at all, sprinting to my work desk.

“I will wreck whatever the hell this is if you don't fix the water supply.”

“Son of a—” I chased after her and grabbed her arm before she could grab a hold of my paperwork. “No, you don't!” I growled.

She whipped her head at me, her honey-brown eyes darkened.

“You're asking for a fight you're not going to win, Zoltan” she growled.

“Why? Because I'm not in a skimpy towel standing in the middle of my enemy's bedroom and trying to enact a seduction plan?” I asked.

Her frown deepened.

“I told you Zoltan, you're not my type!”

“And you're not anybody's type. Anton made that clear countless times.”

Something flickered in her eyes.

“And I don't blame you. I blame myself for going for that idiot's leftovers and making you feel it's okay to even dare to speak to me or talk back in that disrespectful tone.”

When the color drained from her face and her dark orbs dissolved into their natural honey-brown color, I knew I'd gone a tad too far.

She let out a shaky breath and my grip around her arm loosened.

“It's been embedded into my brain, Zoltan. Since that day. So save yourself the trouble of constantly reminding me” she said in a soft voice, twisted her arm from my grasp, and stepped back. “Oh and...” she paused, “... despite how much I hate you, you don't see me throwing your past in your face.”

I flinched.

Did she know about Allison?

I blinked and turned to watch her as she walked out of my room, her steps doubled. My eyes were glued to the back of her head as she moved further away from me. And before she left, I didn't fail to notice a tattoo of a salamander behind her left shoulder.

Thank you for reading!
Vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter and recommend!
See ya.
~the_atticwriter