“You say you don’t need a woman, yet you treat me like a 1950s housewife.” He slaps on a cloying smile. “Do you want a corned beef or bologna sandwich today, Timofey dear?”
“You’re my chef. I shouldn’t need to remind you that making me a sandwich is your job.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Whatever you say. But if I catch you trying to put lipstick on me while I’m sleeping, I’ll quit.”
I almost laugh at that. But Akim doesn’t need the encouragement. “No, you won’t. I pay you too well.”
He considers it for a moment and nods. “You’re right. Fine. Pick the shade and I’ll wear it.”
“That says something, doesn’t it? About your girl. Piper.”
Her name does something strange to my chest. “She’s not my—”
“Right, right. She’s not your girl,” he says, sounding bored. “I’m just saying, I’m willing t
