Chapter 10 – MAKSIM
Ten
MAKSIM
Aknock at the door has me pausing mid-chew. I glance at the wall clock, set my bowl on the counter, grab the HK from the entryway table, and head for the door without bothering with a shirt.
Sure, I could check the peephole and see who’s got the audacity to show up this late, but I’m in the mood for a little entertainment, and tonight, I decide to play Russian roulette with fate.
The door swings open, and I nearly drop the gun, half-afraid it’ll go off just to spite me.
Valentina stands in the hallway. Her hair is a mess, her jacket is ripped, and a fresh cut slices across her chin. Before I can process, she rushes me, crutches clattering as her arms wrap around my bare chest.
Over her shoulder, I catch sight of Remi down the hall, propping the elevator doors open. But there’s no time for questions. With a nod, she slips inside, and the doors slide closed behind her.
I grip Valentina by the shoulders and step back enough to look at her. “What are you doing here? And why do you look like hell?”
She scoffs like she’s insulted. “Thanks…for that. Great to see you too.”
I tug her inside and set the HK on the table. “You know what I mean, Val. You look like you were rolling in the goddamn dirt.” I tilt her face, studying the small gash. “What the fuck happened to you? To both of you?”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “Remi and I were at a race. The speedway across town. A fight broke out—people running, chaos, that sort of thing.”
Heat flares at the back of my neck. I can’t tell if I’m pissed that she was caught in the middle of a stampede when she just got out of the hospital not even a month ago or relieved she’s standing here at all.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my thumb brushing over the reddened spot on her chin.
“I said I’m fine. You know, maybe this was a bad idea—”
Valentina bends to reach for her crutches, but I scoop her up before she can touch them, carrying her straight into the kitchen. She doesn’t protest, but I feel her eyes on me the whole way.
“Yeah, you going out and getting trampled was a terrible fucking idea.”
She rolls her eyes, lips forming that slight pout that deepens the dimples in her cheeks. And I can’t help the laugh that slips out. Some things never change. She used to wear that same expression whenever she’d yell at me as a kid.
“There you are,” she says, leaning away from me when I set her down on the island. “And here I thought the broody asshole was gone for good.”
“Bold assumption.”
She rolls her eyes again, then spots the bowl I left on the counter. Her expression shifts.
Fuck. Busted.
“Maksim Belov,” she says slowly, amusement threading through her voice. “Were you eating… Fruit Loops?”
I shrug, attempting to play it off. “I told you it wasn’t half-bad.”
Her smile is wide now. She’s thoroughly enjoying this. “So you rushed out to buy my cereal?”
“I didn’t rush anywhere. I was already out, saw it, and thought of you. I didn’t know you owned the rights.”
“You thought of me?”
Denying she’s been on my mind far too much lately is pointless.
Admitting it out loud, though, is another story.
I ignore her and moisten a paper towel, dabbing it against her chin.
Valentina’s eyes burn into me, watching as I carefully clean her wound.
In that moment, I realize what I’m doing and pause, surprised by my own actions, by the instinct I didn’t know I had to care for her this way.
“You said you were at a race?” I ask, pressing the small gash one last time before pulling back.
“Yeah…It’s something Remi and I do. Sometimes.”
Something in her eyes lights up at the mention, but she quickly looks away, as if there’s more she wants to say but can’t or won’t. The question hangs on my tongue, but maybe it’s better this way. Distance.
Before I can stop myself, I pluck a blade of grass from her hair. Like, I can’t keep my goddamn hands to myself when it comes to her.
“Why’d you come here?” I ask, harsher than I ever intended, when it comes to her.
“Do you…want me to leave?” There’s vulnerability in her voice, and it twists something inside me. I shake my head.
“You’re good. I don’t sleep anyway.” The confession slips out, wiping her smile almost instantly. Not one to hold back, I expect her to ask why, but instead she surprises me, her eyes peering around my shoulder.
“Can I have some?” My confusion lasts only a second before I turn and see my forgotten bowl of cereal.
I nod and start to walk past her, intending to grab a clean dish from the cabinet, but she catches my arm.
“No. Yours.”
“It’s probably soggy to all hell.”
“Loyal servitude, Maksim Belov. Wasn’t that the agreement? I ask, you oblige. It’s the price you pay for almost killing me.”
I let out a low chuckle, but even through the humor, my chest tightens as flashes of her lying unconscious in the street hit me all over again.
And once again, I find myself unable to refuse her. I can’t explain this pull, the way she bends my restraint. Is it guilt? Some leftover sense of responsibility from when we were kids? Or something more dangerous?
I’ve been running from those thoughts for the last two weeks.
I reach for the bowl, and she leans back against the counter, palms pressed to the edge, eyes on me. Valentina doesn’t have to say a word. I already know what she wants.
“You’re really milking this, aren’t you?”
“Not at all,” she murmurs, a hint of challenge in her voice. “My wrist’s a little sore. You know, stampede and all that.”
I’ve never been drawn to dimples the way I am in this moment. My gaze drifts down, tracing the curve of her mouth as I lift the spoon toward her.
I’m a man. Of course my mind goes there when she parts her lips for me, watching me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I scoop another spoonful of cereal, but she takes it from my hand and offers me a bite instead.
“How generous of you. Not like it was mine to begin with. And what happened to your sore wrist?”
She laughs, and a drop of milk slips down her thigh. I quickly shove the soggy loops into my mouth and swipe the mess away with my thumb.
“That’s disgusting,” I mutter, forcing down the cereal before tossing the bowl into the sink.
“Hey, I wasn’t done.”
“You are now.”
Before she can argue, I lift her off the counter and carry her into the living room.
“A girl could get used to this.”
“What? Warm, soggy cereal?” I set her down beside me on the sofa and wait for her laughter to fade. “So, are you going to tell me now why you came here?”
I’m not sure what I expect her to say—or what I even want to hear—but I wait. She sighs, resting her head against the cushion.
“I was a little shaken tonight because of what happened. Not for me. But I didn’t know where Remi was for what felt like forever, even if it was just a couple of minutes.”
“She’s okay,” I tell her when her smile fades. I can almost see the moment replaying behind her eyes.
“I know. And now you’re probably wondering why I’m here instead of with her.”
I nod. She reaches for my hand, her thumb tracing the ink along my skin.
“Growing up in this family, I’ve always felt safe. Protected. I never really understood it as a child—obviously—but once my eyes were open, it all made sense.” She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “You made sense.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I say, my voice rougher now.
“You were always special. In my eyes, you were my best friend. And you always made me feel like nothing could hurt me.”
“I’ve hurt a lot of people, Valentina,” I confess before I can stop myself, like I’m warning her, pushing her away. But it doesn’t matter. She’s already under my skin. Deeper with every word.
“Should I…be afraid of you, Maksim?”
My hand finds her throat before I even realize it. I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t. She just smiles like she already knows exactly who I am beneath it all. And none of it matters.
“Never.”
“I know,” she whispers. “And that’s why I’m here. Because I needed to feel that again. Needed to feel safe.”
“You could have felt that with any one of them,” I say, pushing because I have to…because I need to hear her say it.
“But I don’t miss them the way I miss you.”
There it is. My fucking undoing.