Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“She’s been through a lot,” Lia says, once the call is over and I carry over the plates.
“I’m sure she has.”
“Don’t look at me like that, then,” she murmurs, then takes a big bite of her sandwich.
I take an even bigger bite of mine. She meets my eye, grinning, then takes another bite, filling her mouth. I chuckle, muffled by the sandwich, and do the same. We eat our sandwiches like that, in the semi-lit room, surreal and smiling and disconnected from just how insane this situation is.
My cell phone goes off. It’s Anton.
“Yeah?” I say, answering.
“He’s a loyal bastard, I’ll give him that. I’ll keep working on him, though don’t expect anything tonight.”
“And the other thing?”
Meaning… the protection on Evelyn’s property.
“Everything’s in place. Three cars is a lot though, boss.”
“It’s what I’ve ordered.”
“Yes,” he says, then hangs up.
“Your mother is safe,” I tell Lia.
She shakes her head slowly. “I still can’t believe this is my life. Am I going to have fresh things for tomorrow?”
I nod, standing. “My men are packing up your place as we speak.”
“Wait.” She stands, her chair scraping loudly across the floor. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“I don’t live here, Lia. This is one of my safe houses.”
“Oh.” She lowers her gaze, then quickly waves a hand as if annoyed at displaying her hurt. “Yeah, obviously. But there’s something else.” She walks around the table and stares up at me. “Who are you, Maksim?”
I almost groan. But her expression is raw. I’d feel cruel telling her to back off.
“We collect and protect information for powerful clients, mostly politicians. In this town, gossip can be worth millions. We’re the information brokers. And things can get ugly. The man who trashed your place and sent men after you is Conrad Vale. He’s another man in my profession.”
“Whoa,” she murmurs. “What sort of information?”
“It depends,” I tell her. “Unpleasant things. Things that are valuable to a politician’s rivals. Things people want kept in the dark. Affairs. Fraud. Things like that.” I grit my teeth. “But I’ve already said too much.”
“Thanks for sharing something.” She smiles with a surreal energy. “Should I walk you out?”
I chuckle. Another miracle. “You’re too kind,” I say dryly.
“I like to treat my guests kindly when they’re in my home,” she replies in a haughty tone.
She walks ahead of me. The animal in me can’t help but notice her clothes clinging to her. My hand twitches as I imagine gliding it between her thick thighs, squeezing, feeling her thickness, her curviness.
At the door, she fiddles with the lock, then turns to me, exasperated.
“It must be stuck,” I say, leaning forward.
I fix it, then realize she’s pressed against the door and me. She looks up at me, licks her lips. Her eyes tell me more than words ever could. I lean down, moving closer, feel her breath on my face and neck. She makes a soft, breathy noise that goes past my heart, my brain, and right to my soul.
I lean closer, closer. My lips are almost brushing against hers when she turns her head.
“Maksim,” she says breathily, and I don’t know if she’s telling me to back off or just do it, kiss her. She puts her hand on my chest and gently pushes. “Please.”
I take her wrist, hold it, and press her hand more firmly against my chest so I can feel her heat through my shirt.
I know I could kiss her now. Maybe even tear her clothes off and reveal every perfect inch of her thick body. Kiss her ample breasts, make her sigh with relief that, for a while, so she doesn’t have to worry about anything else.
I want to take her. Hard. Over and over.
But I also know she might regret it. She’s pushing me away for a reason.
Stepping back, I give her a moment to move aside.
Once I’m in my car, I call around to make sure the security detail is going to be positioned in front of and behind the townhouse. There isn’t much need, but I’m not going to risk it. Even Conrad wouldn’t be stupid enough to stage a hit here.
Lia: Thank you for not pushing.
Maksim: It took every ounce of willpower I have. Though next time, I don’t know if I’ll be as strong.
I sit in the car, waiting for her response. I should go home and rest for another day in the trenches. But there’s something oddly peaceful about texting, like we can share things we wouldn’t say in person. Maybe, at the age of forty-five, I’m going through a stage most people lived through in their teens.
Lia: Maybe next time I won’t want you to.
Maksim: Now you’re playing with fire, Lia.
She sends back a line of flame emojis. I sense she doesn’t want to delve too deeply into this conversation. But the emojis are right. I’m hot for her, burning, far more obsessed than I have any right to be.