Chapter 23
“I don’t know if this was such a good idea after all,” I mumble to myself.
Too bad I’m only realizing now.
Taking my seat, I’m struck by the incredible beauty and opulence of the hotel restaurant. It’s almost too extravagant, a stark contrast to my inner turmoil—a messy, conflicted storm that’s only just barely constrained by an endless rush of relief.
When I woke up this morning, Maksim told me he’d taken care of my demon, once and for all. He assured me that Trey would never bother me again.
And I want to believe him, I truly do. But a small part of me is still in disbelief. How could Maksim handle it all so easily? After all this running and suffering and sadness I’ve endured, all I really had to do was ask a man to take care of it for me?
No, I remind myself. Maksim isn’t just any man. He’s a king. And it’s never been clearer than it is right now.
As I look around, it’s obvious we’re surrounded by some of the most prominent dinner guests in the country—politicians, movie stars, titans of industry. And they’re all staring at us—Maksim and me.
I knew Maksim was a big deal, but this is something else. If I had known we’d attract this kind of attention, maybe I wouldn’t have accepted his offer to celebrate my newfound freedom in his hotel’s five-star restaurant.
But it’s too late to back out now.
A waiter comes up to us, visibly shaking. I try to sit up straighter as he executes a bow so deep his head nearly touches his knees. “W–would you like to or–order now?”
My brows fly up, but I speak to him kindly. “I’m not quite sure yet.” I’ve only had the chance to give the menu a cursory glance. “Why don’t you surprise me?”
The waiter goes pale, like I just said I want his tongue for breakfast. “W–what? I—I don’t—what if you don’t like it?”
I give him a reassuring smile. “I’ll just have to suck it up, since I’m the one who asked you to surprise me. But I’m sure I’ll love it. Everything on the menu looks so delicious.”
He gulps and turns to Maksim with great reluctance. After jotting down Maksim’s order, he executes another deep bow and quickly hurries away.
“They’re all so scared of you,” I observe. Scared shitless.
“I have no idea why,” he teases.
“Just pretend to be impressed with whatever it is he brings for me and—”
“Mr Smolov!” A loud voice suddenly cuts me off.
I turn my head to see the first brave soul approach us. He’s a thick-set man, heavy in the middle, with jowls in his chins and a pair of thin spectacles.
“Mr. Smolov, it is such an honor to eat my meal in the same restaurant as you,” he says, his voice filled with admiration. “I’m Daniel Richardson, and I’m a huge fan of your chain of restaurants. Let me tell you, it’s an absolute feat that you manage to maintain an authentic taste throughout all your branches.”
He continues to talk for several more minutes, waxing lyrical about Maksim’s smart business choices, while we both sit and listen politely. “Here, please take my card. I would be honored to do business with you someday,” he finishes, placing his business card on the table in front of Maksim.
Maksim simply responds, “I’ll think about it.”
The man dips his head and ambles away, practically clicking his heels.
That seems to be the signal for everyone else to realize they can approach us without the fear of immediate death. Soon enough, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is flocking around our table, jumping at the chance to suck up to Maksim.
Their attention is so focused on him that they hardly even notice when the waiter brings out our meals, only slightly moving out of the way. They don’t stop talking as we eat.
I’m ignored for the most part, which suits me just fine. Otherwise, I doubt I could swallow a single bite. Somehow, though, Maksim handles it all with grace.
When we finish eating, our waiter slips through the crowd to clear our table, and I muster the courage to speak up for the first time. “You made a great choice,” I pause to read his name tag, “Keith. The meal was amazing. Thank you.”
Keith reddens and bows awkwardly before scurrying off.
Gradually, the crowd starts to dissipate, giving us some much-needed space. But right as we’re about to get up, another man approaches our table. He’s obviously Italian, with his olive skin, mop of black and gray hair, and piercing dark eyes. He’s older, maybe even older than Maksim, and he walks with an arrogant swagger.
He practically elbows people out of the way to reach us. “Maksim,” he starts in an obnoxiously loud voice. “So nice to see you. It’s been years, hasn’t it?”
“Felix,” Maksim greets him sourly.
Felix shifts his feet so he’s facing me. “I see the rumors are true after all,” he says, staring down his nose at me. “You’ve found yourself a younger woman to bed…”
The whole room falls silent. Maksim stiffens. But Felix continues, oblivious to the tension. “Listen, if you like younger girls, I have a daughter around this one’s age—hell, I have another one who’s even younger if that’s what you like. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but they’re of a far greater quality than your average…” he doesn’t have to say whore, but the word lingers in the air like a slap. “Plus, marrying into my family would help you become even more powerful, I’m—”
Without a word, Maksim lunges to his feet and seizes Felix by the throat. The Italian chokes, his eyes bulging in terror as he finally realizes his grave mistake. He tries to claw at Maksim’s vice grip, but to no avail.
A chill descends over the restaurant, and everyone averts their gaze, desperate not to witness what’s about to happen.
But I’m not sure I can stomach any more violence, not after I learned about what happened to Trey.
“Maksim,” I say, rising slowly from my seat when I realize no one is going to stop him from killing this man. Felix is an obnoxious fool, but being foolish and not knowing when to shut up isn’t exactly a crime that should be punishable by death.
Maksim’s eyes blaze when they meet mine, and I shake my head, “I think I’ve had enough for the day. I’m starting to get a headache. Can we go up to our room now, please?”
For a moment, I’m not sure he’ll listen to me, but then his lips curl in disgust, and he turns his attention back to the man he’s choking. With a vicious snarl, he shoves him away, sending him sprawling to the floor, gasping and coughing.
“Thank you,” I whisper with a grateful smile.
“Sit down, Malyshka,” Maksim commands, rage still burning through him.
I do as he says, having no idea what will happen next.
Cranking his neck, Maksim tugs on the lapel of his suit and calmly takes his seat across from me. “Felix, I believe you owe someone an apology for your… poor choice of words.”
Felix clambers to his knees, still gasping for air, as he stretches out his hand and bows his head to the floor. “I must have lost my mind. I am so sorry, Mr. Smolov. It will never happen again. I’m sorry.” His words are choked, barely audible through his gasps.
“You are not apologizing to me,” Maksim barks. “You owe Cecilia an apology; she’s the one you offended. Right now, your life is in her hands. If she chooses to forgive you, I’ll allow you to leave this restaurant alive; if she doesn’t—” Maksim trails off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
I gulp as Felix raises his head to lock eyes with me in a desperate plea. Then he scrambles forward to grab my feet. “I am so sorry, ma’am. Please spare my life, I will never—”
“Let go of her feet,” Maksim growls, cutting him off. “You don’t get to touch her. You’re not worthy to even lick her shoes.”
Felix hurriedly releases my leg and looks up at me with such fear in his eyes that I’m scared for him. “Please, madam. I’m sorry. I mean it.”
“I know. I forgive you,” I whisper, my own cheeks warming up in embarrassment from all the attention we’re getting. But if I’m being honest, the power Maksim has placed in my hands is making my head swim. It’s a little intoxicating, even if I have no intention of exploiting it.
Felix thanks me profusely, tears streaming down his face.
“That’s enough. You may leave,” Maksim says with disdain. Felix doesn’t wait for him to say it twice. With a sense of urgency, he bolts upright and runs, actually runs out of the restaurant like Maksim might change his mind.
When he’s gone, Maksim stands up and scans the restaurant. “Anyone else have something to say to me? A marriage proposal, perhaps?” His deep voice booms around the hall.
You can hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. “That’s what I thought.” With that, he turns around and offers me his hand. “Shall we go back to our room, dushen’ka? We have a flight to catch.”
Amidst all the chaos, I had completely forgotten about our little trip. Apparently, we’re going to Russia. I’m still not sure why, but when he told me this morning, there was no way I was going to refuse.
I never want to leave this man’s side again.
“We do,” I nod. Taking his hand, I let him help me to my feet. As we walk out of the restaurant, Maksim’s hand rests against the small of my back, and the crowd parts for us, not daring to say a word.
Once we’re alone in the private elevator, I let out a sigh of relief and sag against him, feeling weak.
“All of that attention was exhausting,” I confess, my voice strained. “I don’t know how you put up with it… or why you put me on the spot like that.”
“Get used to it. That’s how dirty lowlifes like Felix should treat a queen like you.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I can’t help but sink into him.
“But I’m not a queen.” I’m not even a princess. I’m nothing.
The look Maksim gives me steals my breath away.
“No, you’re not, dushen’ka. Not yet.”
For a moment, I can’t seem to find my breath again, but when I finally do, my mind starts racing almost as fast as my pounding heart.
What does he mean not yet?