Chapter 10
HOLLIE
“Let me look at you.”
I’m far too tired to argue, so there’s no resistance when, an hour later, we’re back at Maxim’s penthouse and he guides me into the soft, warm lighting of his bathroom. Just behind him, a large square mirror shows the state I’ve ended up in.
Small leaves and a few twigs embed themselves in my messy hair. Dirt streaks my face and clothes and there’s a small tear in my top and a few small scratches along my bare arms. Around my throat, bruising rises from Igor’s hands and my bruised cheek from Stu’s blow darkens in color from Igor’s own.
I barely recognize myself.
Maxim stands before me, a head taller and infinitely broader.
His brows furrow as he looks me over. He dwarfs me with his miles of muscle and a height I could only dream of.
Maybe I should be scared to be back here with him, but I’m so exhausted, I don’t even feel it anymore.
An ache rests behind my eyes that droops with every blink, and coldness seeps into my bones, creating a constant slight shiver despite the warmth of the air around me.
“He did this?” Maxim slowly motions to my throat, and I nod.
“What a great father you have.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “You don’t need to defend him.”
“I’m not,” I mutter. “It burns when I swallow and I can still feel his hands around my neck. I’m not defending a damn thing. I’m just…” I’m tired.
“Come here.” Maxim’s hand gently grasps my wrist and guides me deeper into the bathroom where a gigantic oval bath is slowly filling with hot water and bubbles.
Steam rises, gradually erasing me from existence in the mirror. Maxim releases me once I’m next to the bath, then he turns to the sink and opens the lower cupboard. From there he removes a small red bag which, once unzipped, shows an array of medications.
“Are you allergic to anything?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“No. Nothing I know of.”
He pops two white pills out of a packet and lays them next to the sink. “Take these. They will help.”
“With what?”
He rezips the bag and faces me. “Everything.”
After ensuring the bath is at a good temperature, Maxim steps out of the bathroom and promises me fresh clothes on the bed in the adjacent room. Then I’m alone.
The warmth radiating from the tiled floor and the bath is enough to make me sleepy. My defenses are low after the chaotic events of the past two days. I couldn’t tell you what day it is, or what time it is. It was dark in the woods, and I almost made my peace with death until Maxim found me.
Eyeing the pills, I debate taking them. Drugging me would be fruitless since I’m already his captive. Maybe they really will help. I debate until I’ve removed all my clothes, then I pop the pills on my tongue and chase them with a mouthful of water from the tap.
Pain lances through my cold foot when I step into the hot bath, and I hiss through my teeth.
Gradually, the pain leaves, and I sink down into hot water that encases me like a cocoon.
Gentle vibrations move through the water from a machine within the bath, caressing my aching muscles and throbbing body.
When I close my eyes, I’m back in the woods running until I tripped and twisted my ankle.
Hiding that’s been easy until now. The heat of the water radiates against my bruised, marred flesh and as the cold within me melts away, the pain from the sprain flares up.
But just as I register it, it begins to fade and within thirty seconds, I’m pain-free and completely mellowed out.
The water runs like silk against my fingertips, the bubbles caress my skin with aching gentility, and the heat draws me down into a deep place of aching calmness.
“What did you give me?” I ask Maxim twenty minutes later after I’ve pried myself out of that heavenly bath and dressed in the grey tracksuit he laid out for me.
“Did it help?”
“Maybe.”
“Then it doesn’t matter.”
“You expect me to trust you but you won’t tell me what drugs you gave me?”
Maxim stands in the kitchen with several pots bubbling away in front of him. A mouthwatering scent rises from them and suddenly, my stomach growls loudly. Maxim turns to face me with a light smile playing on his lips. “If you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t have taken them.”
“Maybe I was hoping they would kill me.”
“Were you?”
“Take a look at the past days of hell and you tell me.”
Maxim grimaces slightly. “They don’t have a name. They’re a personal blend of some strong painkillers, a muscle relaxant, and something to calm the mind. You needed something to help you relax.”
“So you can take more advantage of me?”
Maxim’s hand pauses while stirring and he fixes me with such an intense, hard look that my breath catches in my throat. “I would never,” he says with such power in his voice that I’m struck by a sudden wave of guilt. He starts walking toward me and stops a foot away.
“I would never touch you in any capacity, except to save you, without asking first.”
I swallow, but the lump remains in my throat. “You touched me in the woods. And at the altar.”
“All of which is part of saving your life. But now?” He steps forward. “You’re hurt.”
“A few cuts and scrapes.”
“Not that. Your ankle.”
The throbbing, a peaceful, distant thought in the back of my mind, flares suddenly. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I saw you limping. Let me take a look.”
“What are you, a doctor?” I fold my arms over my chest.
“Maybe I am. Would you let me look at it then?”
Irritation swells inside me because now all I can think about is my ankle, and the peace from the bath is fading. “Whatever.”
“Is that a yes?”
Reluctantly, I nod.
Maxim suddenly grabs my waist with both hands, but his touch is incredibly gentle.
He lifts me onto the kitchen counter, then kneels before me and slides his hands down my leg to my injured ankle.
The swelling is light, but there’s redness around the top of my ankle and across the bridge of my foot.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I say as if I’ve got anything to prove.
“Not all wounds do,” he says softly. Maxim’s thick, rough fingers slide over my fragile ankle joints and toes. The touch is soft enough to be soothing, and there’s no pain as he carefully examines my ankle. His other hand remains just under my calf, supporting my leg while he looks..
“Is this part of the protection you promised?”
“If it was, you wouldn’t have been injured in the first place.”
“His murder attempt wasn’t in your plan?”
Maxim slowly looks up at me. “I wouldn’t have sent you back here if I knew he was here.”
“But he’s your father.”
“And he’s a hard, powerful man. We don’t always see eye to eye on a lot of things. Where I see an opportunity, he sees a distraction.”
“Which am I?”
Maxim gently applies pressure to the sole of my foot. “He sees you as a threat to the Krasnov name.”
Krasnov.
I know that name. It appears sometimes on the news, often on the magazines that litter the hotel lobbies I spend my evenings in. Old money, I think. And a lot of jewels.
Blood money now, I presume.
“Do you see me as a threat?”
Maxim looks up once more. “I saw you for what you are. An innocent who stumbled into something they shouldn’t have.”
“So why not kill me?”
Maxim doesn’t reply. He continues to examine my ankle, and when he’s satisfied, he stands. An odd sense of loss follows and my foot tingles with the phantom touches he left behind against my skin.
“Your ankle will be fine after some rest. Maybe don’t run for a few days.”
“Fine.” Maxim moves back to the tasty smells in the kitchen, so I swivel around on the counter and let my legs dangle over the other side. “Can I call my parents? They’ll be worried.”
“They’ll stay worried. I can’t trust that you will stay quiet.”
“I thought the spousal privilege meant it didn’t matter what I said?”
“You can still tell the world everything. It just means it can’t be used in a court of law. But the damage you would do to my reputation, my family, and my business?” He shoots me a look. “So no, you cannot call your parents.”
“I have no incentive to stay quiet,” I retort, seeking to push his buttons in some way just to get his reaction.
He doesn’t rise to it, though. He simply continues cooking.
Five minutes later, he presses a warm bowl filled with fragrant rice, chicken pieces, peppers, and a creamy red sauce that tangs on my tongue after two forkfuls.
“Good?” he asks from the opposite counter where he leans with his own bowl.
I ignore him and shovel the meal down like it’s my last one on earth. One taste unlocked how truly ravenous I am for decent, good food, and within two minutes, the bowl is empty and my belly is full.
“More?”
I shake my head, lapping up a drop of sauce from my thumb. “No. I shouldn’t.”
“Drink?”
Our eyes meet. “Do you have soda?”
He nods and retrieves a can from the fridge. It’s ice cold in my hands and the hiss when I crack the seal sends a satisfying shiver down my spine. “So, what’s next?”
He pauses eating. “What do you mean?”
“I want to go home. You won’t let me. I want to call my parents. You won’t let me. You forced me to marry you, and now you’re feeding me like we’re friends after your dad tried to kill me.”
He nods once. “Your point?”
“Are you just going to keep me locked up here until I forget what you did?”
His eyes narrow faintly, and the low light accentuates how thick his lashes are. “I’ll deal with my father. He won’t bother you again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to. I know my intentions.”
“But you don’t know why you didn’t kill me and get all of this over with.”
“Things are more complicated than you know.”
“How so?” I demand as he takes my empty bowl from me. “I want to go home. That isn’t going to change. You murdered someone, and since you won’t trust me, the only way to guarantee I don’t talk is to kill me, which you won’t do, so what kind of game is this?”
“You need rest.” Maxim speaks with the softness of a lover, which infuriates me even more. How can this cold, dangerous murderer flip the switch so quickly and start caring for me with a heavenly bath and good food? How can he touch and talk to me like I’m not suffering because of him?
“I’m not tired,” I snap stubbornly, draining my soda can as an act of defiance.
“Hollie. There’s a lot going on, but all I can tell you is that our marriage is the best protection I can give you. I don’t kill without reason.”
“I saw what you did,” I snap. “I saw that man. No one deserves that, and I don’t deserve this!”
He sets his bowl down and fixes me with a small, polite smile. “You can take the bedroom at the end on the right.”
That’s it. Our conversation is over and I’ve learned barely anything.
As infuriating as it is, I’m left to my own devices and with nothing else to keep the exhaustion at bay, I fold quickly.
I barely make it to bed before my eyes close and I sink into a deep slumber wrapped up in blankets and pillows that are so soft, they likely cost more than my rent.
My dreams are turbulent. There’s blood over everything and a darkness that extends no matter how far or how fast I run. Every time I feel restriction around my throat, Maxim appears and he saves me from it, but I always end up back in that darkness, running and running and running.
“Hollie?”
Suddenly, I have something to run toward. A light that appears between the trees that promises warmth while guiding me back to civilization.
“Hollie?”
It glows brighter and brighter until, suddenly, I open my eyes to sunlight streaming in through the slatted blinds.
They paint stripes over the walls and the ajar door of the closet where Maxim stands a good distance away.
I immediately clutch at the blanket as my mind catches up and the events of the previous days hit me like a brick.
“What?” I croak, fighting the allure to return to sleep.
“As much as I’d love to give you more rest,” Maxim says, “I need you to get up. It’s time to leave.”
“Leave?” Rubbing one eye, I prop myself up on my other arm. “What do you mean, leave?”
“I’m taking you to a new apartment.”
“What for?”
“To keep you safe. Now get dressed.”