Page 41 of Maksim
“Honestly,” he says with a huff. “When you were doing this shit at Hugh’s, it was kind of cute, but Jesus Christ, is anything good enough for you?”
I force myself to scoff, hoping my words don’t stick in my throat. “I wouldn’t say I ask for much.”
Maksim rears his head back. I wait for his next retort, brace myself for it, but instead of speaking he shakes his head and pulls out his phone. His fingers tap away while I die a little inside.
I don’t need much.
I don’t.
These people, all that I’ve seen so far, have more things in junk drawers than I’ve ever owned, and I need none of it. Is cleanliness really so much to ask for? Good, clean food, a clean home, an honest man?
No, it isn’t. Fuck him.
“What about you?” I ask, venom on my tongue.
He slips his phone in his pocket and looks at me with blank eyes. “What about me?”
“I’ve been quiet for days.” I wipe my sweaty palms over the white dress he asked me to wear then never mentioned again. The one that took hours and a bottle of bleach to get the blood stains out of. “I’ve cleaned your home spotlessly, I haven’t complained, I’ve been good. What more do you want?”
He rolls his neck, feigning exhaustion. “Jesus, not this again.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” He looks me up and down with contempt that makes me want to cower. “Save yourself some dignity and keep your clothes on this time.”
Anger, so hot it burns my eyes, ignites, and I clench my fists. I could hit him, and I half-consider it while thinking through words meant to bite, but my train of thought is halted, my anger snuffed when I hear something behind me.
The door.
I spin in time to see the knob twist and the door begin to open. My legs propel me backward into Maksim before I scramble around him and sprint for the bedroom.
My heart pounds so hard against my chest it hurts, and a fearful chill covers my flesh. Maksim’s words are a distant memory as I climb into the trunk and shut the lid, praying he’ll spare me.
Why did I do that?
Why did I fight with him?
I cover a hand over my mouth to muffle a cry as I shake and wait for my fate. I know the person at the door must’ve been the roommate. Who else would just walk inside?
And now he knows I’m here.
I cry harder, so hard I bite my hand instead of using it to muffle my sounds.
Maksim
My lips are spread wide in a grin, and a chuckle lodges in my throat, held there tightly until Elira is out of sight. It erupts as I turn to Alik, a Bratva enforcer, but my amusement doesn’t rub off on him.
He stands like a statue with mismatched eyes—one brown, one oddly red—so cold, I’d think something was wrong if it wasn’t his usual composure.
“What was that?” he asks, nodding toward Elira’s ghost.
I turn to the side as a silent offering for him to come in, and he obliges, strolling into my living room with his hands tucked away in his jean pockets.
“That was my greatest pain in the ass.”
“It looked like I scared her.”
“You did. Want a drink?”