Eleven
Ava
Aurora is curled up against Maxim, her eyes heavy with sleep. I thank Emily for her hospitality and head toward the car when Aurora mumbles weakly, “Mama, my doll!”
I realize her favorite Elsa doll is still in the playroom. I glance at Carlo and ask if I can go grab it. Before he can respond, Emily smiles and steps in.
“Of course you can. I could also have one of the staff bring it.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll go get it myself. I’ll be quick.”
I hurry up the stairs. Before I reach the room, I catch the voices of two maids talking.
“Alice said Maxim had every whore he’d slept with at Heaven over the past few months brought to him. He made every single one of them take a pregnancy test, even the ones he’d been with months earlier. He wasn’t taking any chances.”
Another voice laughs,
“Poor thing. Imagine Maxim, who always told Don Carlo he’d rather cut his balls off than have kids, waking up to find a woman and a kid clinging to him.”
“But to be fair, Ava’s gorgeous. A natural redhead, just the way Maxim likes.”
“Gorgeous or not, it doesn’t matter. Maxim’s never spent two nights in a row with the same girl. To him, all women are the same. They’re just… walking pussies.”
“Who knows? Did you ever think Don Carlo would fall head over heels for a woman like that?”
“Don Carlo was always a normal guy. His womanizing was within normal limits. But if there’s such a thing as a man whore, it’s Maxim.
Alice even went to his place once. She said he’s got two huge stripper poles in his house.
I mean, the nights he’s not at the whorehouse, he brings the whorehouse home.
That man thinks with his dick, and he’s completely insatiable.
In movies, a guy like that turns into a saint overnight.
In real life, any woman with half a brain wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. ”
A voice suddenly cuts through the air behind me. “What’s taking you so long?”
I jump.
It’s Maxim, getting closer. I swallow hard and dart into the room. I glance at the shocked, frightened eyes of the staff, grab Aurora’s doll without a word, and slip out of the room.
***
I hold the glass under the faucet, and for the thousandth time since we got home, my mind drifts back to the words I overheard a few hours ago.
I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but the thought of Maxim sleeping with different women fills me with rage and disgust, and I wonder: was he doing the same, sharing his bed with different women during the past month?
He owes me nothing, so why does it bother me so much?
They were both right. If I were a sensible woman, I wouldn’t let my heart get tangled up with a womanizer like Maxim.
Not that he’s made any move to seduce me.
My hand tightens around the glass. Damn it.
That’s another thing eating at me, but why?
Why does it hurt so much that he’s not even trying to charm me? Since when did I become this needy?
“Thinking about me?”
Maxim’s voice snaps me back, and I realize the glass is spilling over under the tap.
He’s standing just a step away, wearing nothing but loose sweatpants, arms crossed over his bare chest, staring at me.
Even relaxed, thick veins stood out on his arms, one prominent line snaking down his powerful bicep.
My fingertips tingle at the memory of how good his hard body felt under my touch.
I shut off the faucet and take a sip of water under his heavy gaze.
“Well, go on. I’m curious, how far did we get?”
I give him a questioning look. He elaborates, “You were fantasizing about me, right? Did I at least make you come?”
I scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Won’t deny it, baby, but I assure you, I have very solid reasons. I can show you. In my room.”
He doesn’t need a bedroom to prove his point. The sight of his sculpted body in front of my greedy eyes is proof enough, but he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on me.
“In your dreams,” I say mockingly, squaring my shoulders. Then I set the glass on the counter and open the fridge. My skin burns with the same heat I felt three years ago, and I desperately need the cool air to calm the flush on my cheeks.
I stare aimlessly at the shelves when I feel the warmth of his hand over mine on the handle. His body is so close that the heat of him seeps through my silk robe, grazing my skin. His warm breath brushes the curve of my neck, and his whisper reaches my ear:
“I was dreaming. You, me, a big bed with red sheets. I saw you gasping under my weight... soft moans spilling from those pretty lips of yours.”
My eyes flutter close involuntarily, and I’m thrown back to that night. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against his iron frame.
“You remember, don’t you?”
I draw in a breath of cool air, shut the fridge door, and step away. He lets me go without resistance, his eyes burning with lust. Those words echo in my mind again: Maxim never spends two nights in a row with the same woman.
“I remember,” I breathe.
A smirk settles on his lips as he steps closer, so close there’s barely a breath separating us. I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, his voice low and soft,
“You were all flustered. Cheeks flushed, couldn’t even speak, remember that?”
I nod, unable to control the wild rise and fall of my chest. His thumb grazes my lips. His hands feel rough, masculine, real.
He keeps going, voice low and dirty. “Your lips tasted like vodka. I couldn’t get enough of them.”
He leans down, his lips brushing mine for a fleeting moment. I pull back, stopping him from kissing me. His breath fans across my face as he rests his forehead on the top of my head and whispers,
“You clenched around my cock so tight, it felt like you never wanted to let me go, remember that?”
He moves to touch me between my legs, but I grab his wrist and stop him. My whole body trembles with adrenaline as I look straight into his eyes.
“I remember everything. That night, before I left the house, I knew why I was going to that club. I knew I wanted you, but I lied to myself. I put on my plainest clothes, skipped makeup, convinced myself I wasn’t chasing lust.”
He straightens up, pulling his hand back. His breathing is still heavy, but his face shows he’s listening.
I go on, “When I saw you, when we kissed, I knew you mistook me for someone else, but I kept lying to myself. I told myself maybe you remembered me, remembered the girl you saved. That night, I felt pleasure. I won’t deny it.
But it wasn’t really you I slept with. I slept with the man I’d made in my head, a decent, honorable man.
And you didn’t sleep with me either. You slept with the whore you thought I was. ”
“Now you know I’m a murdering criminal,” he says. “And I know you’re some Mother Teresa. But your cheeks are still flushed, and I’d bet there’s a pool between your legs. And me? Well, you can see for yourself.”
He gestures toward the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, making my cheeks burn even hotter. He continues with a grin,
“Even if I’d known who you were that night, it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. You were getting fucked either way. You want to tell me if you knew who I was, you wouldn’t have gone through with it?”
Before I can answer, he cuts in, his tone serious, “No, Ava, you would have. No matter what that nun drilled into your pretty little head, you’re still a young woman with needs. So why fight it?”
“Because it’s not right.”
“Life isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about winning or losing. And if you want to win, you better learn to take what you want, when you want it. You better start caring more about your desires than some dumbass rules nobody even remembers writing.”
“Everyone should live by what they believe in. Maybe the world needs people like you, but it’s people like me who keep it spinning.”
“So, you suppressing your needs somehow helps humanity?”
“I never said I wanted to suppress my needs.” It slips out before I can stop it.
A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes, making it hard to keep talking.
I shake my head and press on, “Look, you’re a good father.”
The corner of his mouth twitches upward. He winks, playful as hell.
“I can be a good sinner for you too. Just say the word.”
I let out an exasperated breath. His arrogance pisses me off, but he’s right, he has every reason for that infuriating confidence. Only a fool could look at that chiseled eight-pack and that face, carved like a Roman god, and not give in on the spot. And that fool, unfortunately, is me.
“I can’t, and honestly, I don’t want to cut you out of Aurora’s life anymore. But I have control over my own life, and I don’t want to get mixed up with someone like you.”
His brows shoot up, and he fixes me with a hostile glare that makes me feel like he might pounce at any second. A few seconds pass before he speaks in a chilling tone,
“So now that you feel safe, you’re off to find some righteous, virtuous guy like yourself? You think I’d let some stranger near my daughter?”
A righteous, virtuous guy? God knows that’s what I should’ve done from the start. But for some reason, I don’t regret what I did. I raise an eyebrow at him. “You said I’m not your prisoner.”
His voice grates through clenched teeth. “I can change my mind anytime.”
The venom in his tone steals my breath, and I instinctively step back. But he grabs both my arms and yanks me around, slamming my back against his chest. One hand clamps around my throat, forcing me against him. He buries his face in my neck, his voice seething:
“If I wanted, I could train you to crawl on all fours like an obedient dog, begging me to fuck you until you pass out. I could break you so bad no glue could piece you back together.”
This is it; this is what terrifies me. His grip tightens on my throat.