The next day, he came home, paused, then picked up the “Russian for Dummies” book sitting on the coffee table. He raised a brow at me. I returned the look from my spot on the couch. “How else am I going to eavesdrop on all your phone calls, malysh?” It was the male form of the endearment he called me. A half-smile pulled on his lips as he dropped the book back on the table.
