by Olivia Gates
Yet for months she hadn’t been able to sanction that verdict. She’d grown frantic with every failure, even when logic had said nothing serious could happen to him without the whole world knowing. But, self-deluding fool that she was, she’d been convinced something terrible had happened to him, that he wouldn’t have abandoned then ignored her like that.
When she’d finally been forced to admit he’d done just that, it had sent her mad wondering...why?
She’d previously rationalized that his episodic withdrawal was due to the fact that her progressing pregnancy was making it too real for him, probably interfering with his pleasure, or even turning him off her.
Her suspicions had faltered when those instances had been interrupted by even-wilder-than-before encounters. But his evasion of her attempts to reach him had forced her to sanction those suspicions as the only explanation. Then, to make things worse, the deepening misery of her pregnancy’s last stages had forced another admission on her.
It hadn’t been anguish, or addiction, or needing closure.
She’d fallen in love with Maksim.
When she’d faced that fact, she’d finally known why he’d left. He must have sensed the change in her before she’d become conscious of it, had considered it the breaking point. Because he’d never change.
But if she’d thought the last months of her pregnancy had been hellish, they’d been nothing compared to what had followed Leo’s birth. To everyone else, she’d functioned perfectly. Inside, no matter what she’d told herself—that she had a perfect baby, a great career, good health, a loving family and financial stability—she’d known true desolation.
It hadn’t been the overwhelming responsibility for a helpless being who depended on her every single second of the day. It had been that soul-gnawing longing to have Maksim there with her, to turn to him for counsel, for moral support. She’d needed to share Leo with him, the little things more than the big stuff. She’d needed to exclaim to him over Leo’s every little wonder, to ramble on about his latest words or actions or a hundred other expected or unique developments. Sharing that with anyone who wasn’t Maksim had intensified her yearning for him.
Her condition had worsened until she’d started feeling as if he was near, as if she’d turn to find him looking at her with that uncontainable passion in his eyes. Many times she’d even thought she’d caught glimpses of him, her imagination playing havoc with her mind. And each time this mirage had dissolved, it had been as if he’d walked out on her all over again. Those phantom sensations, that need that wouldn’t subside, had only made her more bereft.
Now all that only poured fuel on her newfound fury. But anger felt far better than despondence. It made her feel alive. She hadn’t felt anywhere near that since he’d left.
She was done feeling numb inside. She’d no longer pretend to be alive. She’d live again for real, and to hell with everything she...
The bell rang.
Her heart blipped as her eyes flew to the wall clock. 10 p.m. She couldn’t imagine who it could be at this hour. Besides, anyone who came to see her would have buzzed her on the intercom, or, at the very least, her concierge would have called ahead to check with her first. So how could someone just arrive unannounced at her door?
The only answer was Kassandra. Maybe she’d left something behind. Probably her phone, since she hadn’t called ahead.
She rushed to the door, opened it without checking the peephole...and everything screeched to a halt.
Her breath. Her heart. The whole world.
In the subdued lights of the spacious corridor he loomed, dark and huge, his face eclipsed by the door’s shadow, his eyes glowing gold in the gloom.
Maksim.
Inside the cessation, a maelstrom churned, scrambling her senses. Heartbeats boomed in her chest. Air clogged in her lungs. Had she been thinking of him so obsessively she’d conjured him up? As she’d done so many times before?
Her vision distorted over the face that was omnipresent in her memory. It was the same, yet almost unrecognizable. She couldn’t begin to tell why. Her consciousness was wavering and only one thing kept her erect. The intensity of his gaze.
Then something hit her even harder. The way he sagged against the door frame, as if he, too, was unable to stand straight, as enervated at her sight as she was at his. His eyes roamed feverishly over her face, down her body, making her feel he’d scraped all her nerve endings raw.
Then his painstakingly sculpted lips twitched, as if in...pain. Next second it was her who almost fell to the ground in a heap.
The dark, evocative melody that emanated from his lips swamped her. But it was his ragged words that hit her hardest, deepened her paralysis, her muteness.
“Ya ocheen skoocha po tebyeh, moya dorogoya.”
She’d been learning Russian avidly since the day she’d met him. She hadn’t even stopped after he’d left, had only taken a break when Leo was born. She’d resumed her lessons in the past three months. Why exactly she’d been so committed, she hadn’t been able to rationalize. It was just one more thing that was beyond her.
But...maybe she’d been learning for this moment. So she’d understand what he’d just said.
I missed you so terribly, my darling.
Two
That was it. Her mind had snapped.
She was not only seeing Maksim, she was hearing him say the words that had echoed in her head so many times, waking up from a dream where he’d said just that. Then, to complete the hallucination, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms as he’d always done in those tormenting visions.
But he didn’t surround her in that sure flow of her dreams, or the steady purpose of the past. He staggered as he groped for her. His uncharacteristic incoordination, the desperation in his vibe, in every inch that impacted her quivering flesh, sent her ever-simmering desire roaring.
Then she was mingled with him, sharing his breath, sinking in his taste, as he reclaimed her from the void he’d plunged her in, wrenching her back into his possession.
Maksim. He was back like she’d dreamed every night for one bleak, interminable year. He was back...for real.
But he couldn’t be. He’d never been with her for real. It had never become real to him. She’d accepted that in the past.
She wouldn’t accept that anymore. Couldn’t bear it.
No matter how she’d fantasized about taking him back a thousand times, that would remain an impossible yearning. Too much had changed. She had. And he’d told her he never would.
The fugue of drugging pleasure, of drowning reprieve, slowly lifted. Instead of a resurrection, the feel of him around her became suffocation, until she was struggling for breath.
He let her go at once, stumbled back across her threshold. “Izvinityeh... Forgive me.... I didn’t mean to...”
His apology choked as he ran both hands through hair that had grown down to the base of his neck. One of the changes that hadn’t registered at first that now cascaded into her awareness like dominos, each one knocking a memorized nuance of him, replacing it with his reality now.
He looked...haggard, a shadow of the formidably vital man he’d once been. And, if possible, she found him even more breathtaking for it. That harsh edge of...depletion made her want to crush against him until she assimilated him into her being....
God... Was she turning into her mother for real? Is this the pattern she’d establish now? He’d leave without a word, stay away through her most trying times then come back, and without a word of explanation, say he’d missed her and one soul-stealing kiss later, she’d breathlessly offer him said soul if only he’d take it?
No way. He’d submerged her mind because he’d taken her by surprise, just when he’d been dominating her thoughts. But this lapse wouldn’t be repeated.
Maksim was part of
her past. And that was where she’d keep him.
Yet even with this resolution, she could only stare up at him as he brooded at her from his prodigious height, what was amplified now by his weight loss.
“Won’t you invite me in?”
His rough whisper lashed through her, made her breath leave her in a hiss. “No. And before you leave, I want to know how you made it up here in the first place. Did you con a tenant to let you in, or did you intimidate my concierge?”
He winced. No doubt at the shrill edge in her voice. “I won’t say these things are beyond me if I wanted something bad enough. And I certainly would have resorted to whatever would have gotten me up here. But in this case, I didn’t have to con or coerce anyone to get my way. I entered with your pass code.”
How did he know that?
She’d once thought it remarkable a man of his stature walked around without bodyguards and let her into his inner sanctum without any safeguards. She’d thought he’d trusted her that much.
But what if she’d been wrong about that, too? Had he just seemed trusting because his security measures were of such a caliber they’d been invisible to her senses?
It made sense his security machine dissected anyone with whom he came in contact, especially women with whom he became sexually intimate. Come to think of it, they probably collected evidence on his conquests to be used if they stepped out of line. He probably had a dossier on her every private detail down to the brand of deodorant she used. What if he...
“I once came here with you.”
His subdued statement aborted her feverish projections.
She stared up at him, unable to fathom the correlation.
“You inputted your pass code at the entrance.”
If anything, that explanation left her more stunned. “You mean you watched me as I entered it, and not only figured out the twelve-digit code, but memorized it? Till now?”
He nodded, impatient to leave this behind. “I remember everything about you. Everything, Caliope.”
With this emphasis, his gaze dropped to her lips, as if he was holding back from ravishing them with a resolve that was fast dwindling.
Her lips throbbed in response, her insides twitched...
He took a tight step, still not crossing the threshold. Which really surprised her. The Maksim she knew would have just overridden her, secure that he’d melt any resistance. Not that he’d ever met with that, or even the slightest hint of reluctance, from her. But that had been in another life.
“Invite me in, Caliope. I need to talk to you.”
“And I don’t want to talk to you,” she shot back, struggling not to let that...vulnerability in his demand affect her. “You’re a year too late. The time for talking was before you decided to leave without a word. I got over any need or willingness to talk to you nine months ago.”
His nod was difficult. “When Leonid was born.”
So he knew Leo’s name, though he used the Russian version of Leonidas. He probably also knew Leo’s weight and how many baby teeth he had. All part of that security dossier he must have on her.
“Your deduction is redundant. As is your presence here.”
His hands bunched and released, as if they itched. “I won’t say I deserve that you hear me out. But for months you did want to hear my explanation of my sudden departure. You wanted to so badly, you left me dozens of messages and as many emails.”
So he had ignored her, let her go mad worrying, as she’d surmised. “Since you remember everything, you must remember why I kept calling and emailing.”
“You wanted to know if I was okay.”
“And since I can see that you are...” She paused, looked him up and down in his long, dark coat. “Though maybe I can’t call what you are now okay. You look like a starving vampire who is trying to hypnotize his victim into letting him in so he can suck her dry. Or for a more mundane metaphor, you look as if you’ve developed a cocaine habit.”
She knew she was being cruel. But she couldn’t help it. He’d sprung back into her life after bitterness had swept away despondence and anger had cracked its floodgates. Feeling herself about to throw all her anguish to the wind and just drag him in after one kiss had brought the dam of resentment crashing down.
“I’ve been...ill.”
The reluctant way he said that, the way his eyes lowered and those thick, thick lashes touched his even more razor-sharp cheekbones made her heart overturn again in her chest.
What if he’d been ill all this time...?
No. She wasn’t doing what her mother had done with her father—making excuses for him until he destroyed her.
He raised his gaze to her. “Aren’t you even curious to know why I left? Why I’m back?”
Curious? Speculating on why he’d left had permanently eroded her sanity. Her brain was now expanding inside her head with the pressure of needing to know why he was back.
Out loud she said, “No, I’m not. I made a deal with you from day one, demanding only two things from you. Honesty and respect. But you weren’t honest about having had enough of me, and you would have shown someone you’d picked off the street more respect.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him but didn’t make any attempt to interrupt her.
It only brought back more of memories of her anguish, injected more harshness into her words. “You evaded me as you would a stalker, when you knew that if you’d only confirmed that you were okay, I would have stopped calling. I did stop when your news made the confirmation for you, forcing me to believe the depth of your mistreatment. You’ve forfeited any right to my consideration. I don’t care why you left, why you ignored me, and I don’t have the least desire to know why you’re back.”
His bleakness deepened with her every word. When he was sure her barrage was over, he exhaled raggedly. “None of what you just said has any basis in truth. And while you might never sanction my true reasons for behaving as I did, they were...overwhelming to me at the time. It’s a long story.” Before she could blurt out that she wasn’t interested in hearing it, he added, almost inaudibly, “Then I was...in an accident.”
That silenced her. Outwardly. Inside, a cacophony of questions, anxiety and remorse exploded.
When? How? What happened? Was he injured? How badly?
Her eyes darted over him, feverishly inspecting him for damage. She saw nothing on his face, but maybe she was missing scars in the dimness. What about his body? That dark shroud might not obscure that he’d lost a lot of his previous bulk, but what if it was covering up something far more horrific?
Unable to bear the questions, she grabbed his forearm and dragged him across the threshold, where the better lighting of her foyer made it possible for her to check him closely.
Her heart squeezed painfully. God... He’d lost so much weight, looked so...unwell, gaunt, almost...frail.
Suddenly he groaned and dropped down. Before fright could register, he rose again, scooping her up in his arms.
It was a testament to his strength that, even in his diminished state, he could do so with seeming effortlessness, making her feel as he always had whenever he’d carried her: weightless, taken, coveted, cosseted. The blow of longing, the sense of homecoming when she’d despaired of ever seeing him again, was so overpowering it had her sagging in his hold, all tension and resistance gone.
Her head rolled over his shoulder, her hands trembled in a cold tangle over his chest as all the times he’d had her in his arms like this flooded her memory. He’d always carried her, had told her he loved the feel of her filling his arms, relinquishing her weight and will to him, so he’d contain her, take her, wherever and however he would.
He stopped at her family room. If she could have found her voice, she would have told him to keep going to her room, to not stop until they were flesh to flesh, end
ing the need for words, letting her lose herself in his possession, and even more, reassure herself about his every inch, check it out against what she remembered in obsessive detail, yearned for in perpetual craving.
But he was setting her down on the couch, kneeling on the ground beside her, looking down at her as she lay back, unable to muster enough power to sit up. And that was before she saw something...enormous roiling in his eyes.
Then he articulated it. “Can I see Leonid?”
Everything in her, body and spirit, stiffened with shock.
All she could say was, “Why?”
She was asking in earnest. He’d told her he wouldn’t take any personal interest or part in Leo’s life. She could find no reason why he would want to see him now.
His answer put into words what she’d just thought. “I know I said I wouldn’t have anything to do with him personally. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It was because I thought I couldn’t and mustn’t.”
The memory of those excruciating moments, when she’d accepted that he’d never be part of the radical change that would forever alter her life’s course, assailed her again with the immediacy of a fresh injury.
“You said you’re not ‘a man to be trusted in such situations.’”
A spasm seized his face. “You remember.”
Instead of saying she remembered everything about him, as he claimed to about her, she exhaled. “That was kind of impossible to forget.”
“I only said that because I believed it was in your and his best interest not to have me in your lives.”
“Is the reason you believed that part of the...long story?”
“The reason is the story. But before I go into it, will you please let me see Leonid?”
