Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
MAXIM
I'm immediately assaulted by the chaos. Bright lights, a busy photography team, and elaborate floral displays fill the grand hall. It feels more like a film set than my own home.
Society Magazine spared no expense for this feature, and it’s not a mystery why.
Everyone wants to know more about the woman who sank her talons into Russia’s most eligible billionaire, the man no one believed would settle down again.
Not that the details of how my marriage to Irina ended were ever made public, but rumors have a way of spreading like a virus.
Being featured in a Society spread is my idea of hell.
I’m a private man, and even though this is all bullshit, I despise having to play a part.
Nadya has briefed Kira on what’s expected of her, but I can't help but wonder how today will play out. When I catch sight of her across the room, my focus narrows; the noise, the lights, the people—they all blur into the background. All I can see is her.
Kira’s hair, usually a wild cascade, is tamed into gentle waves that rest on her shoulders.
She’s dressed in a classic pink Chanel suit, the color complementing her peach and cream complexion.
Like her subtle makeup, it downplays how damn young she is, which I suppose was Nadya’s instruction to the stylist and hair-and-makeup team who put her together today.
She looks perfect, comfortable and composed as if this bustling scene around her is an everyday occurrence.
Kira laughs at a comment from Maria Tokarev, a well-known entertainment journalist. She’s an elegant woman in her forties and one of the few in the industry I trust to not fuck this up.
Taking a deep breath, I cut through the room, a smile held tightly on my face. I may not like to play the game, but I’m certainly good at it. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
Kira turns to me, a glint in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. "There he is," she purrs. Without waiting, her lips meet mine, delivering a not-so-chaste kiss.
Holy hell, that's unexpected. Her lips are soft, tasting of berries with a hint of mint, and it's all I can do not to push my tongue into her mouth for more.
But she pulls back first, her eyes flashing with what looks like a challenge. She’s playing the part of a doting wife, though I hadn’t anticipated this level of … enthusiasm.
I place a hand on the curve of Kira’s lower back.
She tenses for a moment, then eases into my touch. “Maxim, I’d like to introduce you to Maria Tokarev. She’ll be writing about us for Society.”
“Maria,” I greet, leaning in to give her a polite peck on the cheek. “As always, it’s a pleasure.”
A frown momentarily creases Kira’s forehead. “You two know each other?”
Maria tilts her head. “I’ve been covering Moscow’s elite for a long time. Though Mr. Belov here isn’t one for media spotlight, he is a man about town, so we’ve crossed paths. However, he’s never agreed to an interview until now. You must have worked your magic on him,” she says, winking at Kira.
“Maybe I have.”
Kira’s words catch me off guard. Does she have any memory of what happened this morning, or is she playing the part for Maria?
Turning to me, Kira says, “Honey, how about we do the photo shoot first, and then we can settle in for the interview.”
“Whatever works best,” I murmur, pleased that Kira is at least acting the part.
“We’re all set up over here.” Maria gestures towards my sitting room, where a photographer is adjusting his camera on its tripod, with a few strategically placed lights illuminating the space.
The photographer—a nerdy-looking guy in his thirties, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a casual shirt—looks up from behind his lens and gives us a welcoming smile. "Good to see you again, Mr. Belov," he says, nodding my way.
I recognize him from past events but never had a formal introduction.
“Maxim, meet Ivan. He’s the best in the business,” Maria chimes in.
I acknowledge him with a nod. “Let’s get this started.”
"Of course," Ivan replies, directing his attention to both of us. "If the two of you could get comfortable… Don’t worry about posing—I prefer more natural shots. Why don’t you sit down on the couch and relax," Ivan encourages. "Pretend we’re not even here.”
I raise my eyebrows. Relax? Act natural?
I’m about to tell him I don’t have all day for this crap, but Kira doesn’t give me time to argue. She pulls me towards the couch and settles down, ensuring there's just enough space for me beside her.
Ivan starts fiddling with the lights as I sink into the cushions beside Kira.
I lean in close to her. “You did good,” I praise. “Who said you wouldn’t make a good society wife, after all.”
She raises a brow, her lips tilting upwards. "Hold your praise. We’re only getting started.”
As if that’s not ominous. Does the little vixen have something up her sleeve?
When I meet her stare, she just blinks up at me innocently. I lean back, wrapping my arm around the couch and search her face for any sign she remembers this morning—me holding her through the nightmare—but there's nothing. Not a flicker of recognition.
“How did you sleep last night?” I ask, voice rough.
Her eyebrows pull together. “Fine. Why? Did I … say something in my sleep?”
I consider mentioning the nightmare, but there’s something about her, a flash of vulnerability that makes me decide to drop it. "You seemed restless, that's all," I say, keeping my tone light.
“We’re good to go anytime you are,” Ivan calls across the room. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Kira’s lips form a mischievous smirk. “Just follow my lead,” she whispers into my ear, her warm breath tickling my skin.
Before I can process her words, she’s crawling into my lap, her lush ass flush against my crotch. My hands instinctively grasp her hips.
"What are you doing?" I murmur.
With a sly grin, she turns her head and winks at me. “Is there a problem?”
If there is, the photographer doesn’t see it. “Perfect. Hold that.” He captures a few shots, then suggests, "Maybe a bit closer, Kira? Imagine you’re sharing a secret."
Following his guidance, she moves in even closer, her lips brushing against my earlobe.
The warmth of her breath sends a shiver up my spine.
Then she squirms in my lap, and my brain short-circuits.
I release a hiss as she very deliberately readjusts her position, her soft ass nestling tight against my cock.
“You okay, honey?” she coos in my ear as Ivan clicks away. “You seem a little out of breath.”
Between clenched teeth, I bite out, “Maybe if you stop fidgeting like you have ants in your pants, I could have a moment to … pull myself together.”
With that, she provocatively rolls her hips against my groin in a slow, sensual motion, deliberately teasing.
A deep, involuntary grunt escapes me as she shifts back in my lap, my cock swollen and weeping in my pants.
Pretty sure my eyes roll up to the back of my head.
The little vixen is playing a game—one that is rapidly spiraling out of my control.
"What is it you think you’re doing?"
“I’m sorry, are you uncomfortable?” She twists around, her gaze lazy and knowing, taking in my desperate state.
She comes in close, her light floral scent filling my nostrils.
It only adds to the maddening sensation.
“Would you compare it to having a bucket of freezing cold water dumped on you in your sleep?”
“Kira, behave,” I spit out.
The only thing I can do to stop her unofficial lap dance is grab her hips and pin her tight against me. It might limit her wriggling, but it doesn’t help my ragged breaths, pumping heart, or the fact that I couldn’t stand up and walk away if I needed to.
My problem would be way too obvious.
“Man, this is smoking,” Ivan praises, scrolling through the pictures on his camera. "There’s real chemistry here.”
Maria leans in, and he shows her the snaps. She nods approvingly.
“Are we nearly done?” I grit. My knuckles whiten as I struggle to keep Kira still.
“Almost. Can you look up at Kira like she's the most precious thing in the world to you?”
I'm sorely tempted to tell Ivan to fuck off, but taking the path of least resistance seems wiser. The quicker I get this over with, the sooner I can distance myself from Kira.
I inhale a deep, cleansing breath. It's like prepping for a fight—I need to center myself. Pushing all other thoughts aside, I focus on getting through the next few minutes without losing control. Because that's the effect Kira has on me. Maybe if her body wasn’t so warm and soft, if she didn’t feel so damn perfect pressed against me, I could focus on something other than the urge to bury myself in her tight cunt.
"One more," Ivan instructs. "Almost like you’re going to kiss. I want to capture this tension."
Kira leans in towards me, her plump lips close but not touching mine. Her hot breath flutters against my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to capture her lower lip between my teeth.
“You will pay.” I keep my voice light and pleasant, but the threat is anything but.
Her expression remains unchanged, but the thumping pulse at her throat betrays the impact of my words. Maybe she’s imagining how I made her pay after she ran from me.
She lays her soft hand on my face, pressing into my jaw while her lips brush against mine like a ghost caress. The shudder of arousal that moves through my body is fierce. It’s the sweetest form of torture, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Her mouth hovers over my ear as she whispers, “This is my payback, Maxim. I won’t be pushed around by you. I won't bend to your every whim or be bullied by you. I don’t know how it was with your first wife, but I’m not like that.”
I freeze, unease creeping over my body. Ripping myself from her hold, I search her eyes.
Why is she mentioning Irina? What does she know?
Somewhere beyond us, Ivan declares, “That’s perfect.”