Chapter 17 #2
My heart slams against my chest watching Maxim exact his revenge with a slow, icy smile.
This is the cold-hearted predator that I’ve seen glimpses of.
I wonder what would happen if we weren’t in Pyotr’s home with his wife upstairs, what Maxim would actually do.
The thought causes a chill to travel down my spine, and it’s not in revulsion.
There's an undeniable thrill in knowing that this ruthless, hard man would go to any length, even risking valuable alliances, to protect me.
And there’s a twisted sense of satisfaction in seeing Pyotr face the consequences of his vile actions.
Maxim finally releases his hold and Pyotr crumples, his now mangled hand trembling as he holds it close to his chest, his face ashen. But Maxim is no longer looking at his victim; his eyes have moved on to me.
“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my arm. His voice, dripping with dominance, makes my skin tingle.
One part of me—the smarter part, I suppose—is telling me to shake his hand off me and give him shit.
I was capable of putting the mayor in his place.
But the other part of me? Feminism has completely left my body because that part is soaking her panties and allowing the beast I call a husband to escort me out of the room.
The moment we’re alone in the backseat of the car, Maxim spins on me. “What the fuck were you thinking being alone with the mayor? I warned you, Kira. I warned you. That man is a predator! You could have been… Fuck!”
Hot, indignant tears threaten at the corners of my eyes, but I hold them back, refusing to give Maxim the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he affects me.
Part of my fury is directed at my own recklessness for putting myself at risk, and the rest is aimed squarely at Maxim for .
.. everything. Every damn thing. He's the source of my misery and the one who sends my stomach into knots—it's completely unfair.
“I know you think I’m useless, but I can and will defend myself.
And don’t bother pretending you give a shit about me because you obviously don’t.
” Beneath my defiant words, an unvoiced thought creeps in—he does care, he must, even a little.
Not that I want him to. He killed my aunt, for fuck’s sake.
Fury radiates from Maxim like a blazing inferno.
He clutches his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn white, threatening to crack the screen.
“You don’t get it…” he hisses. It's like watching a man at war with himself, torn between anger and frustration. “When did I ever say you’re useless? When did I ever… Jesus.”
With a sudden movement, Maxim pivots, facing the window.
His shoulders are taut, tension radiating from his body.
When he spins back towards me, his face is a mask of raw need.
Before I can react, he pushes me down on my back, his bigger body crowding above me.
Surprise jolts through me in a rush that leaves me breathless.
"You are mine. My wife.” His nose skims down my neck slowly, and he inhales deeply, his voice a low, commanding murmur. "It doesn’t matter if you want my protection or not. I will protect you at all costs."
Goosebumps prickle along my skin as his warm breath brushes my neck. I can’t deny the thrill of being his, even when I want to resist.
His mouth crashes down on mine. It’s hot and passionate, and sends my brain cells into a tailspin. His tongue breaches the seam of my lips, plundering and claiming me for his own.
The wild dance of my heart betrays my excitement, especially with Maxim so close because his very proximity is like a magnetic force, drawing me in despite my better judgment.
I know I should throw him off me, tell him to go to hell, but the traitor inside me, the one that hasn’t listened to reason all night, grasps Maxim by his lapels and pulls him even closer, matching each swipe of his tongue with my own.
His lips are softer than I imagined they would be, although there’s nothing gentle about how he kisses. It’s raw, untethered, as if trying to lay claim to every inch of my body, asserting his dominance.
I melt. Literally melt, because I’ve never been kissed like this. It feels like he would die if he didn’t taste me.
He groans and presses his very pronounced hard-on against me.
My God, he’s big and he’s rock-hard. This realization charges through me, sending a tingling thrill to my core and a warm dampness between my legs.
Arousal washes over me, quickening my pulse as I rock my hips against his erection.
He emits a deep, guttural grunt, and the sound of his labored breath is intoxicating.
Everything about this is wrong, but there’s no chance in hell I’m willing to come back to earth. I’m beyond thought right now. Floating on a cloud of pure need, a need that is Maxim deep between my thighs.
Maybe he shares the same sentiment because he grabs both of my ass cheeks and thrusts up into my core once, twice, and then …
he tears himself away from me, scooting to the other side of the car like he’s touched a live wire.
My heart sinks with disappointment. Why did he stop? Was this all a game to him?
Breathing heavily, he runs a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding mine.
My cheeks flush with heat as I slowly sit up and straighten my dress, trying to gather my self-respect off the floor. What the hell is wrong with me?
I drag the back of my hand over my lips, wiping any trace of Maxim on my skin as embarrassment steals up my throat.
Tonight was a disaster.
I learned nothing about my aunt’s death.
I was nearly assaulted. No, forget that—I was assaulted.
And that kiss…
Christ.
Anger boils over into defiance, and before I can stop myself, my fist meets his chest. “I’m not yours, Maxim. I don’t care what you say. There’s nothing between us but a marriage contract.”
His jaw ticks, but he continues to stare out the window, ignoring me, which only makes my blood hotter.
Words I hadn’t planned on saying tumble from my lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew my father? That you had history together. Was that not information you thought I had a right to know?”
This gets his attention. His surprised gaze meets my own. “Of course I knew your father! Half of Moscow knew the mudak in some way or another. He was heir to one of the most powerful bratvas in the city.”
“You didn’t just know him—he discovered you,” I shoot back, my voice heavy with accusation. “He took you from underground fighting rings and introduced you to the underworld. How could you not think to tell me?!”
Dark fury crosses his face. “Oleg Antonov didn’t fucking discover me. He used me, like he used everyone. Including you, his own flesh and blood. The only difference is that I had the power to walk away from him. I saw what kind of a ublyudok he was, and I left him in my dust.”
His outburst catches me off guard, bitterness coating his every word.
So maybe he didn’t like my father if he’s calling him a bastard, but that doesn’t prove anything. My father may have had something over him; Maxim could have been in his debt. Anything’s possible. But deep down, I can't shake the weight of truth—Maxim doesn't bow to anyone.
Another thought quickly follows, hitting me hard. He's not a liar.
His penetrating gaze remains locked on me for what feels like an eternity, then he exhales deeply.
“I never mentioned my acquaintance with your father because I assumed you don’t like to speak of him.
Given your family history.” The weight of everything he’s not saying presses between us.
“I don’t understand why this is important to you.
Your father is long gone—you made sure of that.
” His lips twitch. If he didn’t hate me, I would almost mistake that look for pride.
“I just…” I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. "I deserve the truth. All of it."
“You first, lastochka. You tell me your truth, and I’ll tell you mine.” He releases a gruff laugh. “How about you answer this question…” His mocking tone is replaced with a much darker one. “Why were you alone with the mayor tonight, after I warned you?”
A single finger lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his gaze. He remains silent, and with each weighty moment that passes, my hypocrisy burns—while I demand the truth from him, I'm certainly not willing to share my own.
“Forget it,” I say and avert my gaze out the window.
He tuts, shaking his head. “You’re so curious. Tell me what you’re really after. What do you want to know so badly?” His hand glides down my neck, the soft pad of his thumb gently brushing against the pulse point.
A shiver moves through me. It’s infuriating. I clench my jaw, refusing to be affected by this man. “Nothing. I don’t like being blindsided. I felt like a total fool in front of Anatoly Petrovich today, having no clue that you knew my father."
Maxim snorts derisively. “You shouldn’t care what Anatoly Petrovich, of all people, thinks of you. His dirty secrets stretch from here to the Wall of China.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” I whisper.
When we enter the security gates to Maxim's estate, all I can think about is jumping out of the car and darting into the house. I need to get away. I need distance from this man that sucks all the air out of a space. That makes my body feel things I desperately don’t want him to make me feel.
Fuck him and his demands I sleep in his bedroom. I’ll curl up in the shed with the dogs tonight for all I care.
"Seriously, Maxim, forget I said anything. Forget everything about tonight.” He fixes his gaze on me, his eyes narrowing as his eyes drop to my lips. “It’s late, and I need to sleep."
As soon as it’s safe, I throw open the door and dart out, my heels clicking against the cobblestone drive.
I’m relieved he doesn’t follow me. He doesn’t even get out of the car.
My hands form tight fists, nails digging into flesh, as the limo speeds off and disappears into the dark night.
Off to see one of his mistresses, I presume.
Good. I won’t have to share a bed with him tonight.
Thank the Lord for small mercies.