I thought about it for an instant.
No. Kitchen. We can make some tea or something.
The moment I hit send, I reread the message and couldn’t believe those words had come out of my head, more so because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even touched a kitchen appliance. Putting the phone back into my pocket, I hurried immediately to the kitchen. All was dark and quiet, the staff having finished for the day. I opened a few cupboards and found the cabinet where the coffee pods and tea were kept. I pulled out a box of Chamomile tea infusion. Then I filled the kettle with water and flicked the switch on.
I sensed the moment she arrived, but didn’t turn around. For some reason I wasn’t yet ready to face her. A corner of me even felt dread that perhaps she would again blame this all on me and it would drive us even further apart. Not after tonight. I shut my eyes and hoped.
When the water boiled I retrieved the kettle and brought it over to the counter where I had already laid out the flowers in tea cups. I couldn’t believe how domesticated I was being. If any of my men saw me now, they would be in shock.
“This will calm you,” I said to her.
“I’m already calm,” she replied quietly. “My question is why were you so calm when he was pointing the gun at you?”
I looked up then, and met her gaze. Only one lamp lit the massive kitchen, but it was more than enough for me to clearly see the accusation in her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I know that you’re usually calm, but we were in a very volatile and dangerous situation. At any moment things could have gone from bad to tragic, and you let him point a gun at you like that. What made you so sure that he wouldn’t shoot?”
I felt a surge of anger, but I kept my voice even. “Are you insinuating that I am behind all of these attacks?”
Silence. We stared at each other.
“What made you so sure that he wouldn’t shoot?” she repeated.
I tried my best to put aside my ego and I had a strange feeling of hurt she could think so lowly of me. What was important now was her safety and to assure her that I was not her enemy.
“If he had wanted to shoot me he would have done so from the moment I came in. I realized as I studied him that he was afraid of me. He knew exactly who I was and that his family’s lives would be destroyed if he dared to hurt me. My father is not a very forgiving person. He was sent there for you, not me, and if he had overstepped his bounds he would have been the one to end up dead.”
She blinked and for a moment seemed confused. “So he came to kill or kidnap me and your arrival saved me?” she asked cynically.
“I agree with you that something feels off. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but what on earth would make you think I would be behind any of this?” I asked, swallowing my pride.
“Trust is not exactly a cheap commodity in the world we come from, Maxim.”
“So what would I gain from getting someone to kill you?”
“It doesn’t have to happen now. Perhaps it’s all an act leading up to when you’re able to get me to willingly marry you. And then one of these thugs finally gets lucky and finishes the job. No one would say my death was your fault. You can play the grieving husband for a while.”
“And what would I get in return?”
She faced me bravely in semi-dark space. “Two empires for the price of nothing.”
I watched her, more impressed than furious. Even I hadn’t thought of that. She was definitely her father’s daughter.
“Sure, if that’s what you choose to believe.”
“It’s not the truth?” she asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t?”
“No,” she replied, “but still I’d like to hear your response.”
“It’s not,” I replied, and I heard her release a shuddering breath.
“I have more questions,” she said, taking a step towards me. “Why did you respond so fast? You couldn’t possibly have been informed and been able to appear in front of my door that quickly.”
“I followed you home,” I replied.
Her eyes widened slightly at the admission. “Why?”
I could have lied, but I told her the truth. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss.”
Her chest heaved at the reminder.
“Britney and I will get out of your hair tomorrow.”
That instantly brought back my annoyance. “Where are you going to go?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You’re not leaving.”
Her response was a deeply burrowed frown. “What? Are you going to stop me?”
“As you’ve rightly pointed out, if anything happens to you I might be blamed. Therefore, to protect my interest, and until these problems are resolved, you’ll remain here with your friend where you can be more easily protected at all times.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it. “My head is a mess. I have to think about this. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Fine.”
She hesitated. “Goodnight.” Then she turned around, and exited the room.
I picked up my mug of chamomile tea and took a sip. It tasted of nothing and it fucking burned my tongue. But I didn’t care. She was under my roof now.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Freya
There was fresh cream cheese, bread, and bagels for breakfast. It immediately brightened my morning, but Britney was still quite shaken and silent. She picked at the crust of her bread, and barely touched the aromatic drip coffee Mariah had made for us.
“He’s really rich, isn’t he?” Britney eventually lifted her head and said.
I was just so happy that she was speaking. She had been too quiet, and for too long. “Yes,” I said as I took a look at the regal dining room we were in. The walls were lined with famous modern artworks. The priceless old master paintings were all locked away in safes. Lalique lights illuminated the room.
“I mean look at that kitchen,” she said in an awed voice.
Through the door, we had an almost picturesque view of the bright, exquisite kitchen. From the granite workspace to the beautifully sleek appliances, imported marble walls, and hardwood floor. It was a space that was so different from our own apartment that it was impossible not to marvel at its grandiosity.
“Yeah, a great kitchen is a wonderful thing. When my mom was alive we lived in a different house than the one we have now in Moscow, and you should have seen what she did with the kitchen. My dad was horrified for a bit and then he just let her do her own thing. It was pink and emerald green with a bit of white granite here and there. I loved it, but after she passed my dad didn’t want to remain in the house anymore.”
“You never told me how your mom died,” Britney said quietly.
I brought my gaze to her despondent, brown eyes. Now was probably not the best time to tell her about it, but I didn’t want to ignore her either.
“She was poisoned,” I answered shortly.
She looked shocked, then her eyes began to mist. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s alright.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “It was a long time ago. My father found out who was responsible and let’s just say he died a terribly painful death.”
Britney went quiet again. “I finally figured out why Levan looked so familiar.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “His family was involved in a huge case with the former acting DA, Sarah Dale. She accused Levan of kidnapping her grandson and he was thrown in jail for a little bit. But then she later changed her testimony, and said that her grandson was kidnapped by some mafia guy. He was never found, but his minions were, and thrown in jail.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, it was big news then, but we didn’t care,” she laughed sadly. “We were still bartending at The Dead Rabbit.”
I smiled, and realized this must be the case Bianca referred to when she told me how she and Le
van had reconnected.
“We have to send $800 for the rustic ring sample by noon. The stackable one with the green stone,” Britney said, bringing me back to the present.
“I thought we found a cheaper supplier for the rustic sample. You said he agreed to $450.”
“Well I haven't heard from him in three days so I think it’s safe to assume that he’s bailed on us. $800 is the cheapest we can get so far. The design is quite intricate.”
“Yeah,” I responded.
She bit her lower lip. “And the rent is due this week. $750.”
I could feel my face dropping. The rent was my responsibility, but without my bartending job I only had a tiny amount saved in the bank. I needed a job like yesterday. No matter what happened I was going to find myself a job today.”
“I have some savings,” she said to me. “About $600. Not much but it’ll help. Perhaps I should get a job too.”
“Nah,” I refused. “Wasn’t our agreement. If we both work, the business will be even slower. You handle sales and media and everything else in between while I handle the bills. Has Barneys reported any sales yet?”
“Nothing yet.”
I found a smile for her and squeezed her shoulder in assurance. “I’ll get the money,” I promised her. “Even if I have to ask my dad for it.”
She smiled sadly, and I knew then that she was not okay. She knew how much I hated the idea and how hard I’d tried to be independent. In the past she would have instantly rebuked me and steered me away from that path. But now it was almost as though she didn’t even hear me.
She rose to her feet then. “I’ll go get ready to head to the office.”
“You can’t go back to the apartment,” I said gently. “Just stay here. You need the rest.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have an interview at Milano’s bar soon so I’ll head out there about ten. I’ll text you when I have the money.”
“Alright,” she said, and headed off lifelessly back to her bedroom.
I watched her leave and felt a heaviness settle in my heart. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that everything we had worked so hard for was turning into sand that was escaping between my fingers, and the harder I tried to hold on the faster it was running out.
I tried to finish my breakfast, but I had long lost my appetite. I needed to talk to Maxim about security, and about getting us the fuck out of being prisoners in his house. I could stand the pressure, but Britney… I was sure she was about to break.
Maxim had left before either of us woke, and I was quite relieved at the news, especially after the way I had accused him last night. A lot had happened within the space of a very short time, but now I couldn’t avoid him anymore.
We had very grave matters to settle.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maxim
I was at lunch when I received the call from her. Two of my contacts from Wall Street were with me.
“I need to speak with you,” she said to me. “Can I come to the office?”
“I’m at lunch,” I replied. “Can you come to 11 Madison park in about forty minutes?”
“Sure,” she answered and ended the call.
I put my phone away and tried my best to hide the excitement that filled my body at the thought of seeing her again. I quickly ended my meeting. They were both surprised as we had just sat down and ordered our meal, but they stood and left immediately.
I dialed Roman. “What has she been up to today?”
“She’s been to the bank and two bars. One in Williamsburg, and the other in Greenwich Village.”
I looked away in thought. No doubt she had gone in search of a job, but those were not very attractive areas. She needed a job and one where I had some semblance of control, I quickly made the call. Now all I had to do was find a way to present it to her in a way that she would find easy to accept it.
She came in, wild-haired and dressed more provocatively than usual. She was in a pair of black shorts that showed her flawless porcelain skin. Her lips painted a deliciously sinful red. The strappy black top she wore drew my eyes to her firm breasts.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair at the painful blast of arousal that made my cock feel heavy and hot between my legs. What was it about her that enraptured me so much?
She took her seat and asked for a drink of water.
I signaled to the waiter, and soon enough a glass was brought to her which she consumed quickly. Then she set the empty glass down and met my gaze like a soldier now readied for battle. It was endearing as fuck.
“You want something to eat?” I asked.
“No need,” she replied.
“They have Pelmeni and barabulka here,” I said. As I recalled from her behavior at functions we were forced to attend by our fathers as young adults, she had a great fondness for the traditional dumplings and red mullet dishes.
She swallowed, her appetite wetted.
“Lunch is on me.” I called the waiter over to take her order.
She picked up the menu and looked at it. “I also want the celeriac and hazelnut soup, and the blueberry pancakes.”
“Any drinks, ma’am?” the waiter asked.
“A glass of Sancerre, please,” she said and he went on his way.
She returned her gaze to mine. “We need to uh … talk about my current living arrangements, and some other things. But let’s start with that.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and leaned into the chair to watch her, my gaze on her plump, red lips. How I wanted them around my cock.
“We can’t stay with you for much longer, so by tomorrow we should be out of your hair, but we will need to leave with security. I don’t want to ask my father for it, and neither do I necessarily want to ask you, but I think we can both agree that the attacks are somewhat linked to you so you should take responsibility for what happens.”
Time to make my stance. “You’ll only have my protection under my own terms. You’ll have to live in my house, where security can be thorough until this situation is sorted out. You left today against instructions. My people tried to reason with you to allow them drive you but—”
“Maxim,” she stopped me. “I cannot live like this. I have a life and responsibilities.”
“It is a temporary situation that will all be sorted out soon enough.”
“Well until then I'm not about to leech off you. We will return home, and you will provide us with the needed security there.”
“No.” I reiterated. I would not allow any negotiation on this point. “Full protection or nothing at all. Maybe you can weather the pressure of knowing you can be attacked at any time, but I saw what last night’s episode did to Britney. You want to take that risk?”
She glared at me, but I was not backing down, and since she cared enough for her friend, it wouldn’t be as easy for her not to do so.
At that moment someone stopped by our table. We both turned to see the striking blonde standing next to us. Holly Tudor. She was the youngest daughter of a multi-millionaire hedge fund manager. A diamond choker encircled her neck, and her dress, a silky champagne rose number with spaghetti straps, hugged her hips and flowed down her thighs.
“Maxim,” she called in the breathy voice I was quite familiar with.
She proceeded to rest her hand on my shoulder, and the unnecessary contact earned her an irritated expression. Her hand dropped away. We slept together on occasion when we met at different parties, but it was an unspoken agreement that it came with no strings. It was an agreement she had adhered to thus far. I turned to the ball of fire before me and understood what had threatened little Holly Tudor.
“This is?” she asked, her tone as condescending as was humanly possible.
“No one,” Freya answered and rose to her feet.
I knew just how to sit her back down. “Running away so quickly? Don’t you want you Pelmeni and barabulka, your soup, your blueberry pancakes?”
She pulled the strap of her purse off her sho
ulder and returned to her seat, a blindingly fake smile plastered on her face. “You’re right, but I have better things to do so I’ll take it to go.”
“That’s true,” I said and took a sip from my glass of Scotch. “How’s the job search going?”
She turned a murderous gaze on me, but the woman standing next to me looked particularly amused, as she confirmed that Freya was truly no one, at least financially.
“Maxim,” she called, in her breathy voice. “When am I seeing you? How does this weekend sound? I’ll be all yours.”
“Not this weekend, but thanks for dropping by, Holly,” I said to her.
She responded with a sultry smile while she somehow managed to make sour when she turned it on Freya. She slinked away and I didn’t bother looking back, my gaze fully on the seething woman before me.
Freya cocked her head dramatically as she watched her leave. “She looks like a prostitute. I suppose you pay her well.”
“Why, are you interested in applying for the position?” I mocked.
She turned a very shocked gaze towards me. Too taken aback to respond, she let out a snort. “Excuse me?”
I got straight to the point. “You need money, don’t you, and I’m willing to pay to fuck you.”
She leaned back into the chair, and folded her hands across her chest, her eyes were glittering with a strange expression. “How much are we talking?”
“Name your price,” I replied coolly.
“How about a million,” she responded without blinking.
“Deal,” I murmured, my gaze never leaving her.
I saw the moment when she realized just how deadly serious I was, and for a moment I saw the terror flash in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She jumped to her feet so quickly, her hair flew around her face like a halo. She was so furious her next words shot out of her like bullets.
“Fuck you, Maxim.”
“I wish you would,” I responded. “You’re driving me out of my fucking mind.”
With This ring Page 12
