Page 12 of Maxim
I rattle off a message to the girls in our group chat and head over to the bar area. Jane replies almost immediately saying she’s at home, suffering from a cold. When Amanda gets back to me 5 minutes later, she tells me she is on a date with Finn the lifeguard. A last-minute thing. Jane fills the chat with eggplant emojis and I laugh quietly.
Looks like I’m heading home then. There’s no way I’m drinking here alone or anywhere else. Just as I pull up the Uber app, ready to call an end to the evening, a tall man in a dark suit steps inside the restaurant, and my stomach flips.
Chapter nine
Max
Fate is not something I believe in. Tarot cards, fortune tellers, horoscopes, or any of that woo-woo bullshit does nothing for me. If I was a believer, though, I’d be concerned that Fate is fucking with me.
The minute I set foot inside the restaurant, I see her standing by the bar, a phone in her hand. She looks up just as the door swishes shut behind me. The restaurant is busy. The air is hot and humid, heavy with the scent of garlic, aromatic herbs, and perfume. Music plays, people talk, and my eyes lock on hers.
Tonight, she’s all dressed up. The jeans and vest tee are gone, replaced by a silky green dress that clings to her generous curves. Her dark hair is pinned up, loose tendrils framing her face.
Before I can question my motives, I’m striding across the room, ignoring the hostess who steps toward me with a bright smile on her heavily made-up face.
“Do you have a booking, sir?” she asks brightly but I brush past her without acknowledging her presence.
I had planned to eat here. The food is delicious, and although the place is packed, I know the chef.
Karim always finds me a table, even if it means kicking some other poor bastard out. We’ve been friends for many years. Every time I’m in the city, I make a point of calling in to see how many new grandkids he has.
“Malyshka,” I murmur in a low voice. She stares up at me, her eyes wide with shock.
“Is it really you?” she whispers.
“Yes.” I reach out and push a curl behind her ear.
Her eyes narrow and she pulls back. “Are you following me?”
“No.” I’m genuinely not; this is a happy accident. But she frowns. No doubt she thinks I’m talking shit.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I don’t lie.” Mostly.
There’s a pregnant pause, then she asks, “Did you go after Rick that night?” I watch as she looks at me intently, so many questions in her pretty pale-blue eyes.
“Rick?” I play dumb, even though I know exactly who she’s referring to. The bartender watches us curiously while polishing a glass. He’s well aware of who I am. I throw him a warning glance and he quickly scurries away.
“The guy I was with, the one who…” She looks down, rubbing her wrist subconsciously. If that asshole was nearby, I’d take great pleasure in killing him slowly. I may still do that if he ever shows up again.
Not that he’s likely to after the explicit threats to his health and wellbeing.
“I did.” I could elaborate, but unless she asks me to, I’m not going to.
“He disappeared that night and I haven’t seen him since. Did you hurt him?” I can’t tell whether she’s upset or happy about what she thinks I’ve done to her ex. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
“Would it bother you if I did?”
She frowns a little, then replies, “No.”
I grin. My malyshka is not as sweet and delicate as I thought. Perhaps I should see where this takes me.
My brain reminds me that having anything to do with this woman is a terrible idea, but I’m not thinking with my brain right now.
“All you need to know is that he’s never going to hurt you again.”
“Is he dead?” There’s a faint thread of hope in her soft voice and I almost wish I had killed the bastard.