30. Nadia
For the first three days that we recovered and relaxed at the Valkov mansion in New York, I wondered when the meetings would ever end.
Alek Valkov wasn’t as frightening as I thought he might be. I met him first, and my initial impression of the Pakhan was that he was younger than I thought he’d be. He’d have a long time to grow into his position as the head of the family.
He was tough, though, as evident in his thorough interrogations in the aftermath of all that went down after I was taken to the place Dmitri had been held captive.
“You didn’t see Erik near him, though?” he asked.
I got it. This man cared about his organization. His love was obvious for his brothers. He seemed to circle back to questions about the interactions between Erik and Dmitri, but I had nothing to tell him, not really.
I shook my head. “No. Not in the time that I was at that second place near the water. He argued with someone named Andre, and that was the last I saw of Erik. I escaped and looked for Dmitri, and when I found him…”
I fought back the memories of that horrible room. The stink, the blood, the first sight of such a tortured man. “It seemed that Erik had already done his worst.”
Alek glowered at the table. Maxim shifted in his seat next to me. He was there for all the meetings and questions, and I appreciated his presence. Even though I wasn’t afraid to satisfy Alek’s need to interview, I preferred to always be near Maxim.
“The reports we’ve collected suggest that Erik had a routine of torturing him.”
“But he was sent by Lev to find me,” I replied.
Alek nodded, and Maxim sighed. “Yes, but when he wasn’t on the trail looking for you, it seems like he was the one who supervised Dmitri’s torture.”
I shook my head, saddened all over again for the other Valkov brother. We brought him back with us, and together, with more Valkov men and soldiers, we saw him to medical help.
After multiple surgeries, blood transfusions, and an aggressive antibiotic regimen, Dmitri was stable and recovering here in his private wing in the mansion. He had a long road ahead of him. His recovery would take significant time and would require great patience, but from the little I’d seen of him, he didn’t seem to possess the disposition or mood to be “patient”.
“I’m still furious that Sergei thought to ask the fucking Avilovs for help. That they were accomplices in taking Dmitri at all.” Alek stood and moved toward the door, likely to go help Mila with the baby. He was a very hands-on father, from what I’ve seen, and it made him less frightening.
“We’ll still need to deal with Sergei,” Maxim said as he stood and gestured for me to leave the meeting room with him.
“I know,” Alek bit out. He glanced at me, giving me a stern look. “She won’t be going back to her father.”
I nodded. “Me neither. Then again, mine’s dead. But if I had the choice, I’d never speak to him again. Not after he tried to force me to marry Lev.”
“You won’t be going anywhere,” Maxim said as he draped his arm around my shoulders. “Is that enough for today?” he asked his brother as he steered me to go in the opposite direction.
Someday, I bet I’d get used to this huge, fancy house. I wasn’t accustomed to this kind of wealth, this sort of luxury. But it didn’t faze me. All that mattered was that Maxim insisted on my staying in his wing, in his bed, with him.
“Yeah, yeah.” Alek waved us off as he headed toward the sound of Alana crying in the distance.
Maxim took my hand and ushered me toward his wing.
Since we arrived, we’d done nothing more than sleep, eat, and explain all that had transpired. Rinse and repeat. Over and over, we addressed what Alek wanted to know. Maxim faced his own questions, being upfront about the federal agent who’d been so critical in Maxim’s ability to find me. I felt sorry that this Tom Buttane agent had died, but Maxim intended to let the agent’s boss, Don, know what happened. It seemed like a tense subject, working with the Feds, but none of the brothers were accusing Maxim of blurring the lines of duty and loyalty. He’d done what was necessary to find me, and ultimately, Dmitri too. It sounded like Dmitri’s lousy attitude wasn’t only about the weakness he had to live with during his recovery but also that it seemed like the Feds would be involved going forward in bringing down Erik Avilov for torturing one of the Valkov brothers.
It had been a frenzy of sharing details and debriefing, but I was glad Maxim was right there with me through it all. A woman could only endure so many life changes so rapidly. We’d slept side by side, but with the fatigue and bodily stress of all that we’d endured, we hadn’t been intimate.
The cocky smile he gave me as he closed his suite’s door suggested that we would be now.
Under his smug grin, I came alive. Seeing him mischievous like this turned me on, and I practically shivered with the glitter of desire shining in his smoldering eyes.
“Finally,” he said simply.
“Finally what?” I asked.
“We’re alone.” He stalked away from the closed doors, prompting me to back up toward the bedroom.
“We are.” I teased him by pulling my shirt over my head and letting it drop to the floor.
“Oh, sweetheart. The things I want to do to you,” he growled. As he backed me up to the bed, he reached one arm back and removed his T-shirt, revealing all those hard cuts of muscles.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” I shimmied out of my skirt and stepped past it.
“Like…” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I just remembered something.”
“Hmm?” I unclasped my bra and trembled as the material fell over my skin and fell to the carpet.
“You told Dmitri that you were my fiancée.”
I smiled. “It seemed like the easiest introduction.”
“But…” He reached me, hooking his fingers under the band of my panties and yanking them down. On his knees, he looked up at me with an arrogant smile. “I haven’t proposed.”
“Yet,” I taunted.
He lifted me by the hips and pushed me to fall back on the bed. I landed with my legs apart. A deep thrill snaked through me as I watched him crawl closer, keeping his head right at my pussy that already dripped for him.
“I said it partly as wishful thinking, and partly because I didn’t know what else to define us as.”
He kissed up along my inner thigh. “Oh, you were right.”
I shivered at his hot kisses, reveling in the contrast of the cooling wetness in the wake of his lips and tongue. “About what?”
“That you’ll be my fiancée.” He kissed my pussy before sliding a finger inside.
“Hmm.” I hummed at the intrusion. “Is that a proposal?”
He dragged his tongue over my entrance, collecting all my cream and causing me to drip even more. Between his fingers sliding in and out and his lips suctioning at my clit, he had me too close to coming already. I wanted it to last. After the hardships of being apart, fearing the worst, and fighting so hard to get to this moment of peace and love, I wanted to savor every second of our reunion.
“No,” he replied later.
I mocked a pout.
“When I propose,” he said in that deep, husky voice that drove up my libido, “it’ll be a surprise. A romantic, extensively planned, huge gesture of love.”
I smiled, closing my eyes as he continued to pump his fingers in me and rub his thumb around my clit. He stood, though. I could tell that his angle changed, and with the sound of his zipper and then the rustle of his clothes, I figured he was stripping the rest of the way to join me on the bed, not kneeling on the floor.
“Fuck, I can’t wait. I need you, sweetheart.”
The bed dipped, and my heart raced faster in sweet anticipation of his climbing up here to hover over me.
I opened my eyes, reaching up to stroke my hands up over his hard chest. “Can’t wait for what?” I teased, knowing full well what he meant.
“This.” He notched his cock at my slick entrance and then slid all the way in, hard but slow, ensuring I felt every inch of the stretch.
I moaned while he growled, kissing my neck all the way up to my jaw.
“Not about proposing?”
“No. I’ll wait. I’ll keep you guessing when I’ll pop the question,” he said cockily as he thrust in and out of me with a dizzying, steady speed of pressure. Tension coiled in my belly. I throbbed at the deep plunge. And my nipples beaded harder at the friction of his hard chest grinding over my breasts.
“I don’t need a fancy dinner and proposal,” I argued weakly. Already, it was too hard to think straight, much less argue effectively.
“Too bad,” he said before kissing me deeply.
“I just want you,” I insisted. “Forever.”
“You’re right about the forever part. I’ll never let you go.” He sped up, driving into me quicker, like he couldn’t help but hurry to the end. His facial features were pulled taut as he strained, but he still maintained eye contact with me, pumping with such force.
“You need a real proposal, Nadia. A real engagement,” he insisted. “And I’m going to give you one.”
I smiled. My heart swelled with his affection, and I knew without a doubt that this man would always do whatever he could to please me. After the “engagement” I was forced to endure and try to escape with Mr. Avilov, it seemed Maxim wanted to do things right by me. He wanted to treat me and treasure me and provide the slow buildup of anticipation through a traditional engagement.
And I loved him all the more for it.
“I love you, Nadia,” he said between hard, panted breaths as he pushed us both to come hard. I milked him dry, floating and soaring with the perfect bliss of the orgasm that felt like I’d postponed it for too long. He wasn’t any better. Groaning loudly, he held on to me tight and plastered his rock-hard body over me to ensure we were flush from head to toe, two but united as intimately as possible as one.
“I love you, Maxim,” I promised as we turned our heads to kiss. It was a tender, delicate press, but all the sweeter after how fast we’d raced to come.
I never would’ve thought that running from the fiancé I didn’t want would deliver me into the arms of the man I couldn’t wait to propose to me.
Fate was funny like that. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about this man who was my first and would definitely be my only and my last.