Page 87 of Maxim

James can’t be dead! Oh god. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t asked him to do the photos, he’d still be alive. Probably sitting in a bar with a girl, flirting like crazy like always.

The last thing I said to him was to accuse him of flirting inappropriately with the two girls I interviewed. He died thinking I thought he was bad at his job. I don’t realize I’m crying until Max half crawls onto the stupidly narrow bed and pulls me into his arms.

“Natalya, it’s OK. I got you, baby.” He strokes my cheek and slowly my heart rate returns to normal. Nothing soothes the pain though. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for James’ death.

How can I?

At some point, a doctor enters the room and Max speaks to him in a low tone while holding me in his arms like he can’t bear to not touch me in some way. I don’t bother listening to what’s said; the ringing in my ears makes it too difficult anyway.

My mind can’t cope with hearing any more bad news. I just want to sleep and make everything go away. I must pass out shortly after because when I wake again, the room is light with sunshine filtering in through slatted blinds.

Max is slumped in an armchair next to the bed, one hand holding mine. He’s fast asleep but still frowning like his dreams are as tormented as mine.

There are blood spots on the cuff of his shirt and I wonder what happened before he came to the hospital. He doesn’t appear injured. At least nothing obvious.

Just as I’m examining him he wakes. Dark eyes focus on my face and he sits up, wincing at the way his large frame is bent at an unnatural angle.

“Malyshka, the doctor says you can leave but you must rest.”

I nod, then remember I still haven’t seen my phone. “Where’s my phone? I was supposed to meet with Amanda.”

Max pulls it from his pocket and hands it over. “Don’t worry, Kolya let her know what happened.”

Thank goodness she wasn’t left waiting in a bar by herself. I take my phone and see a billion messages on the lock screen. Messages from the girls, from my editor, and colleagues. Nothing from my parents, but that doesn’t surprise me. They probably have no clue I’m even in hospital.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” Max tells me.

“Home?” I’m not so sure I want to go back to my apartment. The thought of being alone scares me. Maybe Jane will let me stay with her for a bit.

“I’m taking you to my house. Not the apartment. My house outside the city.”

My mind snags on what he just told me. Does he have an actual house? I assumed the apartment was his home.

“The apartment is where I stay when I’m in the city. I tend not to use it that much.”

Wait…what?! “But you’ve been there for weeks?”

“Only because of you, Malyshka.” He squeezes my hand before reaching down and picking up a bag. “I have some clothes for you to change into, so we can leave. Do you need some help dressing?”

I carefully ease myself out of bed, wincing a bit. The doctor must have given me some strong painkillers because it’s not as bad as it was earlier. My body feels stiff rather than agonized.

“I think I can manage.”

“OK, good. While you’re dressing I’ll call Artem to fetch the car.”

Chapter sixty-one

Nat

If I wasn’t so out of it, I’d be asking a million questions as we drive through a set of tall metal gates, guarded by two men with very large guns. The house at the end of a long driveway lined by trees could best be described as a mansion.

Max’s home is a huge red brick property with ivy growing up the walls and a red tiled roof. Everywhere I look, I can see greenery: flowers, trees, and a sweeping lawn that disappears down toward a small lake. It’s lovely. Exactly what I’d pick if I could choose my dream home.

Part of me is wondering exactly how fucking wealthy Max is, but most of me is still reliving the explosion…yesterday?

God. Was it really less than 24 hours ago that James said he’d blame me if his car was stolen?

I choke up as the car glides to a stop next to a huge entrance portico. Max jumps out and opens my door. He’s not said much to me on the journey here. I think he realizes I need some time to come to terms with what’s happened. Although I’m not sure any amount of time will help.