“My enemies don’t know what I’m capable of, lastochka. And neither do you.”
Then, just like that, he’s gone.
If hiring a new housekeeper-s***h-chef was meant to make us all forget Yelena, Andrey should try again.
Pilav is the exact antithesis of Yelena—young, efficient, and professional to a fault. Still, it’s impossible not to see Yelena between the cracks.
Sure, his cooking is a heck of a lot better, but somehow, mouth-watering pierogies don’t quite make up for his sour face every time Misha or I walk into the kitchen to sneak something from the fridge.
In my defense, I’m pregnant. In Misha’s defense, he’s a growing boy with nothing to do all day.
At least Remi seems not to mind him. And for the moment, that’s good enough for me.
Misha and I are sitting in the garden with a fully-
