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)
Tension grips me. “Deal with them… how?”
“Again, not my place.”
“So, you just came here to offer me riddles?”
He smirks. “I can see why Maksim likes you. Few people speak to us like this.”
“I’m tired, and I’ve been through too much to tiptoe around anything,” I say.
“Then you should make Maksim tell you the whole story.”
He’s right, I know that. But I’m also aware that I enjoy being with him too much. When we’re together, it’s easy to forget. To forgive. Another woman might still hate him for watching her. But I can’t.
Nikolai drains his beer in a few gulps, then puts down the bottle. He leans forward and stares at me. “I came here to learn if you care about him. Do you think you have a future together? Or has my brother spilled all our deep, dark secrets to a woman who might leave him?” His eyes dart left and right, as though he can’t meet my gaze. “Because he cares about you. I know that for a fact.”
“It’s early,” I say. “And these aren’t exactly normal circumstances. How can I answer a question about whether we have a future or not? It’s not fair to ask me that.”
He stands. “You’re right. But you should know by now, life isn’t fair.”
“I’m very aware of that fact.”
He inclines his head. “All right then.”
Once he’s gone, I go to the window and watch him walk down the street, wondering what that was. A threat? Brotherly concern? Something in between?
CHAPTER 18
MAKSIM
I’m shouting down the phone at Anton. It’s the sort of thing the boss has to do sometimes. No progress—no damn progress. It’s starting to grate on me. We’re living with the looming threat of destruction over us.
The only aspect of my life that makes me forget, of course, is Lia. Once the phone call is over, I bring up our text thread and look through our conversation.
I texted her at around ten AM.
Maksim: You better not be up yet. I don’t want you out of bed until lunchtime at the earliest.
She sent me a selfie, still in her PJs, a big smile on her face, her hair fanned out around her shoulders.
Maksim: That’s what I like to see.
I told her I liked the view, though there’s more I’d want to see. But after watching her for so many months, I’m trying to be civilized. It’s an uphill battle.
Lia: I’m finally up. Made some lunch. Guess where I am now?
Maksim: Bed, I hope.
Lia: You’re so clever, Maksim.
Maksim: And you’re so sarcastic, Lia.
Lia: Would you have me any other way?
I smiled.
Maksim: I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Maksim: I’ll be at your place in roughly an hour.
Lia: Where are we going? It’s not TOO fancy, is it? Also, have you talked to your brother?
Maksim: We’re going to the kind of place you deserve. A place where you can be treated like the princess you are. And what do you mean, have I talked to Nikolai?
Lia: He swung by yesterday. I think he wanted to make sure my intentions with you were noble.
Maksim: Oh, that. Yeah, he told me. And I told him he ought to keep his nose out of my business. Why, was he rude?
I grit my teeth together, wondering if it’s possible for Nikolai to be cruel to someone I clearly care about.
Lia: No, it was fine. I was just curious.
I wonder if she’s being completely honest with me. But after everything I did, hell, do I have any right to interrogate her? I’m struck again by how different she makes me. In days gone past, I wouldn’t hesitate to demand the truth, even if I was withholding a lot on my side.
Lia looks around the restaurant, the light from the chandelier reflecting in her eyes. People turn their heads as we walk by. I keep my hand on her side, steadying her. She’s cute when she’s nervous, shooting me a look as though wondering if she belongs here. Before pulling out her chair, I whisper in her ear. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this place.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Maksim…”
“I mean it,” I tell her fiercely.
We order from the lavish menu, and then we talk about… everything, but none of it is serious. It’s the easy banter we both slip into, as if we can pretend this whole bizarre situation isn’t happening. She asks what sitcoms I watch at night. When I tell her Friends, she doesn’t judge me. We just start talking about the show. Almost an hour passes like this.
“I love Ross and Rachel,” she says as we’re eating dessert. “Will they? Won’t they?”
“I know that feeling,” I say, reaching across the table and taking her hand.
She holds my hand tightly, looking down at our joined hands. Then her gaze moves to her dessert plate. “Did we seriously just spend an hour talking about… nothing?”