12. Maxim
TWELVE
MAXIM
P ulling up to the front of the resort I found three hours away from Miami, I step out of the car, leaving Sophia inside to rest. We made it here in just under three hours, shaving forty-five minutes off what the GPS predicted. It was a quiet ride—too quiet for my liking. We made small talk a couple of times, commenting on the open sky and the shimmering ocean that stretched out along the road. But mostly, she stared out the window, lost in her thoughts, before eventually drifting to sleep.
I glance back at the car, at her peaceful face, the rise and fall of her chest as she naps. I need this trip to be perfect. It has to be. She needs it.
Her routine back home—waking up, showering, slipping back into pajamas, and retreating to bed—isn’t helping her heal. My house is no better, with my men constantly coming and going. And her home? It’s a prison of memories, each one suffocating her. A change of scenery, fresh air, and the soothing sound of the ocean—that’s what she needs now.
Stepping into the lobby, I’m immediately greeted by a short, round man with a sweaty forehead and a Hawaiian shirt stretched far beyond its limits. The garish floral print doesn’t do him any favors, and I can practically hear the buttons screaming for mercy.
He strides toward me, his hand outstretched. “Good afternoon, Mr. Volkov,” he says, his tone cheerful but overly eager.
I take his hand, shaking it firmly. “Good afternoon.”
“Welcome to Sunny Dayz Resort,” he continues, releasing my hand and stepping back. His gaze flickers to the car briefly, no doubt wondering about Sophia.
I take the chance to glance around the lobby. The tropical theme is almost overwhelming. A wooden swing is suspended in the center of the room, fake palm trees are scattered in odd corners, and brightly colored cushions adorn rattan chairs, flanking either side of the check-in counter. The smell of citrus and coconut hangs heavy in the air, no doubt piped in through the vents.
The manager clears his throat nervously, and I turn back to him, catching the sheen of sweat forming on his temples. My patience thins. “Is everything ready?” I ask, my voice low and deliberate.
“Yes, sir,” he says, his voice hitching slightly. “There are no other guests at the hotel, as per your request, and only a handful of staff remain on duty—just enough to ensure everything runs smoothly for you and your…” He hesitates, his eyes darting toward the car again before he leans in slightly. “…your girlfriend.”
The word sets my teeth on edge, but it’s the way he says it—like Sophia is a prize he’s evaluating—that ignites the flicker of annoyance into a full blaze.
“She’s one lucky wom—” he begins, but I cut him off before he can finish.
“You should learn,” I say, dropping my gaze to the name tag pinned to his straining shirt. “Richard, is it? To think before you speak.” My voice hardens. “And keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you.” I step closer, my eyes narrowing. “If you must know, I’m the fucking lucky one.”
The weight of my words hangs in the air, and for a moment, he’s silent, swallowing hard. His face pales, beads of sweat now freely trickling down his temple.
Before I can say more, a light touch lands on my shoulder. I know it’s Sophia before she even speaks.
“Maxim.” Her voice is soft but steady, pulling me back from the edge.
I turn to her, my scowl easing as I take in the sight of her. She looks up at me with those wide, curious eyes, her hair tousled from sleep, and my chest tightens. She shouldn’t have had to wake up to this.
“I’m hungry,” she says simply, surprising me. I expected her to chastise me, to tell me to let the man go or to stop being such an asshole. But she doesn’t. Maybe she doesn’t want to make a scene.
Her words remind me why we’re here—to help her feel better, to let her breathe again—and I force myself to let go of the irritation coursing through me. I glare at Richard one last time before jerking my hand in a dismissive motion.
Richard stumbles back a step, his face flushed, but he recovers quickly. “Y-Yes, of course,” he stammers, straightening his shirt. He turns to Sophia, offering a weak smile. “Welcome to Sunny Dayz Resort, ma’am.”
Sophia nods politely but stays close to me, her arm brushing against mine.
“The room key is with Patricia at the front desk,” Richard adds quickly before scurrying off, disappearing down a hallway like a rat retreating to its hole.
I shake my head, muttering under my breath as I guide Sophia toward the counter. Her fingers brush mine, and I glance down to find her looking up at me with the faintest hint of a smile.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her voice almost lost beneath the faint hum of the lobby’s ceiling fans.
I don’t ask what she’s thanking me for. I lean down and press a kiss to her temple.
“You’re welcome, krasavitsa.”
“Wait here,” I tell Sophia. She nods and walks off toward the swing in the middle of the lobby, her fingers brushing the chains as she sits down. I watch her for a moment before heading to the counter.
The girl behind it—Patricia, her name tag says—looks up at me with wide, frightened eyes.
“G-Good afternoon, sir,” she stammers. Her voice shakes as she fumbles to grab the room key. It slips from her fingers, clattering onto the counter. She leans down to pick it up, but her trembling hands betray her. She drops it again. And again.
I inhale deeply, biting back a sharp remark. This is supposed to be a stress-free trip for her. I remind myself of the promise I made to keep things light, to avoid anything that might set Sophia on edge.
“Almost done?” I ask, glancing at her name tag. “Patricia.”
Her head bobs frantically. “Yes, sir. S-Sorry.”
“Good. Because I’ve just had a long trip, and I’d really like to start relaxing.” I force a smile, though the way she flinches tells me it probably looks more threatening than I intended.
“Of course, sir,” she says, rushing to gather the paperwork. Her hands still shake, but she manages to avoid dropping anything else this time. She launches into a rehearsed explanation of the room’s location, the food services number, and the schedule for the excursions I’d booked. I nod impatiently, grab the papers, and turn to where Sophia is swinging herself gently, staring down at the tiled floor.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
She looks up at me, her brows raised, lips pursed in a way that tells me I’ve already done something to annoy her.
“Did you really rent out the whole hotel?”
Ah. So that’s what this is about. I fight back a smile, nodding in confirmation.
Her scowl deepens as she stops rocking. “Are you insane? Why would you do something so…crazy?”
I step closer, placing my hands on her thighs to ground her, to pull her attention back to me. “Because I didn’t want anyone bothering you,” I say simply, my tone soft but firm. I grab her hands, my thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “Please don’t fight me on this. I want you to relax, to not have to worry about anything.”
I don’t add the rest: to not worry about people hurting you, stressing you out, or dragging you back to the place you’ve worked so hard to leave. I know Sophia, and if I say too much, she’ll take it the wrong way, twisting my protectiveness into something that feels like pity.
Her expression softens, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She lifts one hand to my face, her palm warm against my cheek. I freeze, holding still, afraid any sudden movement might scare her off. This—her touching me willingly—is progress. I won’t do anything to ruin it.
But my treacherous eyes betray me, trailing down her face to her mouth. Her lips are so close, so inviting, but I force myself to stay still. She’s not ready. Don’t push her. The mantra plays over and over in my head like a warning siren. She’s been through too much already.
“Maxim,” she says softly, her voice carrying a spark I haven’t seen in her for so long. It’s hesitant but familiar, like the woman I fell for is still in there, fighting to resurface.
“It’s okay,” she continues, her gaze steady, even though I can see the flicker of nerves in her eyes. “You can kiss me.”
My heart stutters. For a moment, I don’t move, certain I must have imagined it, that I’m hearing what I want to hear, not what she actually said.
She takes a small step closer, her hands brushing against mine. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Maxim. A kiss isn’t going to break me,” she adds, her voice lighter, almost teasing, but there’s an undertone of vulnerability that keeps me rooted.
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
Her hand reaches up, lightly resting against my chest. “Kiss me,” she whispers again, softer this time, but with a conviction that leaves no room for doubt. And then, she closes the distance herself, rising up to press her lips to mine before I can even react. The kiss is hesitant at first, as though she’s testing the waters, but the moment her lips meet mine, I’m lost.
My hand instinctively moves to cradle the back of her head, threading through her hair, while my other hand rests gently at her waist. I hold her like she might slip away if I’m not careful.
The kiss deepens slightly, her grip tightening on my shirt as though anchoring herself. When she pulls back, just an inch, her breath brushes against my lips, her voice barely audible. “I’m still scared, Maxim…but I need this. I need you.”
Her words hit me harder than anything ever has. “You’ll always have me,” I murmur, my thumb brushing her cheek as I search her eyes, hoping she knows how much I mean it.
For a few moments, we stand there, holding each other in the fragile quiet. The weight between us feels lighter, but I know it’s still there, lingering. Still, for now, this is enough.
Electricity crackles between us, igniting something raw and overwhelming inside me. God, the feel of her lips on mine—it’s like coming home after being lost in the wilderness for years. Her warmth, her softness, her everything else pulls me under. I deepen the kiss, my other hand sliding down to her lower back, holding her as close as possible.
Then, a loud thud breaks through the haze.
Sophia pulls back quickly, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. She glances over my shoulder, her smile turning sheepish. “I think we should go to the room,” she says, her laughter light and teasing.
I groan in frustration, the moment ruined. Whoever dropped whatever it was better be glad I don’t know where they are, or I’d— But then I look at her again. She let me kiss her. She wanted to kiss me.
It may seem small to someone else, but to me, it’s everything—a step forward, a crack in the walls she built so high around herself.
I resist the primal urge to scoop her up and take her to our room, to lose myself in her completely, to drown every ounce of pain and heartbreak in the pleasure of being with her.
But I won’t do that. Not yet.
I’ll wait.
I rest my forehead against hers for a few moments, grounding myself, trying to hold back the storm inside me. That kiss was progress. Take it slow, Maxim. Everything will be okay. We will be okay.
When I finally pull back, I grab her hand, lacing my fingers with hers.
“I parked the car already.” Her lips curl into a faint smile. “And the bags are already on their way to the room.”
My brows knit together. “What?” Sophia’s words seem casual, but they snag in my mind like a thorn.
“Some guy came up and asked for our last name,” she says, glancing at me as if it’s no big deal. “When I told him yours, he offered to take our bags and said they’d be waiting for us in the room.”
My jaw tightens, my grip on her hand instinctively firming. I made sure no one knew where we were going. No one. I don’t respond right away, forcing myself to nod as if I’m unaffected.
“What did he look like?” I ask, keeping my tone as even as I can manage.
She shrugs, her expression easy. “Dark hair, about mid-thirties. He was wearing a uniform, so I assumed he worked here.”
Assumed. The word grates against my nerves. I glance around the lobby, my eyes sweeping over the couple of staff members. Everyone looks normal—too normal.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears, my hand tightening slightly around hers. Staff or not, how do I know he’s not watching us right now? That he’s not the one behind everything—waiting for the right moment to strike again?
“Maxim?” Sophia’s voice pulls me back, her brows knitting together as she looks up at me. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” I mutter, though it’s far from the truth. I scan the lobby discreetly, my eyes darting to every face, every corner, every shadow.
She squeezes my hand, pulling me slightly forward. “Come on, let’s just go to the room.”
I pull out my phone, my thumb flying over the screen as I fire off a message to my IT guy.
Check the hotel’s security footage. Find the guy who approached Sophia about the bags. I want his name and a full background check ASAP.
The moment I hit send, a familiar tension coils in my chest. I need answers—now. Waiting for information has never been my strong suit, and in situations like this, patience feels like a liability.
I glance at Sophia, who’s walking beside me, her expression calm but not entirely at ease. She’s trying to be brave, but I know her well enough to see the edges of her worry. It’s yet another reminder I can’t afford to let anything slip through the cracks.
A wooden bridge stretches out before us, surrounded by dazzling, crystal-blue water that seems to sparkle under the sunlight. Sophia stops abruptly, her hand slipping from mine as her eyes widen with awe.
I watch her, captivated by the way her face lights up. She takes a few steps forward, her focus entirely on the scene before her—the way the bridge is flanked by charming bungalows perched over the water, the sound of gentle waves lapping at the wooden posts. I tug her back gently, pressing her body against mine, my free hand resting on her lower back.
“My love,” I murmur, leaning down to brush my lips against her ear. “This may not be the real deal, but…” I tilt her chin up with my fingers, my thumb grazing her jawline as I plant a soft kiss on her lips. “I plan to make this trip so magical and perfect, it’ll keep you satisfied until I can make that dream of yours a reality.”
She pulls back slightly, her face aglow with a radiant smile that steals my breath.
“It doesn’t matter where we are, Maxim,” she says, her voice filled with warmth. “As long as you’re there, it will always be magical and perfect.”
Her words hit me like a blow to the chest. The back of my eyes sting with unshed tears, but I refuse to let them fall.
I’ve spent so many years being greedy with my heart, convinced I didn’t deserve love, convinced it was safer to shut myself off than risk being hurt.
But standing here, holding her, hearing those words from this beautiful, resilient woman—despite everything we’ve been through—makes me realize something profound.
My heart always knew what it wanted.
It was waiting for her.
I was waiting for her all along.