21. Maks
21
MAKS
“ S ome dinner?” Lenka steps into my office, a tumbler of chilled vodka and a plate in hand, her expression carefully schooled into a look that’s grown all too familiar over the past week since the wedding. She hasn’t asked what happened between me and Lindsey—why Lindsey’s wearing my mother’s wedding ring while we seem more distant than the day I first brought her here. But I can tell it’s a constant question in Lenka’s mind.
“Thank you,” I say, making room on my desk for her to set the plate down.
“You’ve been taking your meals in your office a lot lately,” she observes mildly.
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Work’s been keeping my hands full.”
She’s never made observations about my schedule before, and I know she’s trying to make sense of the tension in the house without openly prying.
“Of course,” Lenka agrees, straightening beside me. “I just thought—well, never mind. It’s not my place.” She turns to go, taking several quick strides across the room.
“Lenka.”
Pausing, she turns to face me, her kind face anxious.
“You don’t get to say something like that and then walk away. What were you going to say?” Lenka’s worked for me for a long time. She was invaluable to me during Kira’s early years, when I had no clue what I was doing as a ward and she took on more of a nanny role, even though I hired Lenka strictly to help with the cooking. Because of that, she feels more like family to me, so I want to know if something’s troubling her.
Lenka interlaces her fingers in front of herself to stop fussing with her apron. “It’s just that you’ve seemed happier with Miss Payne around, so when she came in wearing that ring—well, I thought it would be a good thing. But since then, it seems like all you do is work. I guess I just hoped you’d be?—”
Her words taper off, and color infuses her cheeks as I hold her gaze.
“Well, enjoying the company of your new bride,” she rushes on.
Clearing my throat, I take a sip of the chilled vodka she brought me. “You’re right. That’s not your place.”
Lenka’s blush intensifies, and she gives a jerky nod before turning to leave.
“But I appreciate your concern,” I add as she reaches the doorway. “If Lindsey wants my company, she knows where to find me.”
“Of course.” Slipping into the hall, Lenka closes the door behind her.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I drop my head back against the headrest of my office chair. I know Lenka only wants what’s best for me. She’s been a good, loyal member of my staff for all the years I’ve known her, and she likes Lindsey. It isn’t hard to see—or to know why. But since her last escape, something’s changed between us. I can feel Lindsey slipping away. I should be glad about it. Putting distance between us is the best way to keep her safe, but I’m more conflicted than ever about letting her go. I offered to send her to New York because I don’t want to put her in danger—and that’s still true. But I don’t like the way we’ve left things.
After my snapping point, she’s been distinctly more distant, and I know it’s my fault. Punishing her the way I did was a turning point in our relationship—and not in a good way. Since then, Lindsey has seemed more distracted than usual, more inclined to avoid me and spent time alone. Where before, she seemed to crave my presence, even just as a break from the monotony of being trapped here. But now the conversations we have feel closed off, stiff, and uncomfortable. Her defenses are up, and this time, I don’t feel right trying to bring them back down. I took things too far with her, and if she doesn’t want to be around me, I don’t want to force my presence on her. But I can’t just let her walk out of the house, either, not when Lucian is keeping a close eye on her. I know he is. He’s stationed one of his men to watch my building—which, as much as it rankles, I know it’s not unreasonable, considering he has as much skin in the game as I do.
As I eat my dinner, I turn my attention back to my computer to focus on my work so I can stop thinking about the beautiful blonde, most likely holed up in the master bedroom, working through dinner to avoid one another, just like I am.
When my phone dings, I pick it up to find a new notification. It’s my way of staying connected without giving Lindsey unsupervised access to the internet, and again, I have to actively push her from my mind as I open the email from the charity gala that Lucian and I have narrowed down as our best opportunity to take out Emiliano. Skimming the contents of the letter, I frown, then switch to my phone app and dial Lucian.
“You’re not supposed to be calling me,” he states, his tone as cool and collected as always.
“Were you able to get the tickets you need?”
“Of course.” Silence stretches across the line as he reads into my question. “You couldn’t?”
“I’ll deal with it. As long as you and your men will be in place, that’s what matters.”
“We’re ready to go. Send word when your issues are resolved.”
Ending the call, I slap my phone against my palm as I consider the letter’s wording: Due to the recent contention between you and one of our most generous benefactors, we are unable to authorize your attendance this year. We apologize for any inconvenience and thank you for your kind contribution.
No doubt, I’m being barred from the event because of what happened in Emiliano’s office. He’s one of the key contributors to the charity event we picked, and I don’t doubt he personally requested that I be removed from the guest list after what happened at his office. It made waves when I stepped in to stop him from touching Lindsey. Though only she and I know the truth behind why I got overly physical with Emiliano that day. High profile men like us don’t get to lose our tempers without making the news. When we hash things out, it’s supposed to be behind closed doors—and when we fight, that’s supposed to happen in the shadows, not out in public, where our masks of civility are firmly in place. My actions were bound to come back and bite me eventually. I just hadn’t imagined they would be watching the guest list that closely.
“ Blyat. ”
Tossing my phone onto the desk, I comb my hair back from my face as I consider my options. I have no doubt my men will be banned from the event as well. It’s no secret that I hate Emiliano, and if I’m not welcome at the gala because he plans to attend, then that will hold true for anyone loyal to me. That’s the main reason I formed this alliance with Lucian in the first place. He might want Emiliano dead as much as I do, but as of now, very few people know that. At least if Lucian and his men are still good to go, it’s a good sign that no one suspects us of collusion. It’s not like I didn’t know I would have to keep my distance from the start. Emiliano knows just how badly I want him dead, and he takes that very seriously. I made that point vividly apparent when I crossed the line to protect Lindsey.
Glancing toward the door of my office, I sit up as a thought strikes me. Emiliano doesn’t know Lindsey’s actual name. When I sent her in for that internship interview, we created a false identity for her, so even if he knows her face, her name wouldn’t be blacklisted. It doesn’t feel all that honorable to ask more of her when she’s already put so much on the line for this plan, but I want to be present when that sick fuck finally meets his end. I would love nothing more than to drag out his suffering and make him scream for my mercy before I kill him with my bare hands, but since I won’t get that, at least I want to see him die. Putting aside my pride, I make my way to the master bedroom and knock.
“Come in.” Lindsey’s voice is guardedly polite, and when I open the door, she turns from her desk to meet my eye.
“Hey,” I say, stopping at the threshold.
“Hi.”
That pervasive silence stretches between us, the newfound awkwardness in our relationship settling like a wet blanket across the room. Clearing my throat, I push past it, knowing after a week of her halting communications that Lindsey is not going to be the one who breaks it.
“I have a favor to ask,” I state.
Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, Lindsey raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“I’ll pay you back for it, obviously, but would you be willing to put something on your credit card?”
“Having trouble getting approved for a loan?” she teases, and when she offers me a rare smile, the ball of tension in my stomach loosens slightly. “I can hardly imagine I could buy anything you couldn’t.”
A chuckle rumbles up from my chest as I shake my head. “It’s not the quantity that’s the issue. It’s your anonymity that I need.”
Lindsey frowns. “For what?”
I haven’t filled her in on the details of the plan Lucian and I formulated from the intel she got us out of Emiliano’s office. The less she knows, the better—for her sake as well as ours—so I hesitate as I consider how much to tell her now.
“They’ve refused me entry to the event where Don Costanzo will be.”
“The event where Lucian intends to kill him, you mean.” It’s not a question as Lindsey effortlessly connects the dots, her spine straightening. “But you want to see it through.”
Swallowing hard, I give a curt nod.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Lindsey leans back in her chair. “Fine. I’ll get you in under my name, but only if you’ll take me with you.”
“No.” The word jumps from my mouth as my fists clench. I’ve already put Lindsey in enough danger as it is. I don’t want her walking into another risky situation just so she can witness the kind of violence I’m trying to keep her away from entirely.
“No?”
“No. You’re not coming.”
“Then you can find someone else,” she states, turning back toward her laptop.
Sighing heavily, I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off a growing headache. “You don’t even know what the event is. What makes you so sure you want to come?”
Lindsey’s loose ponytail whips around as she looks at me. “I’ve seen what that asshole is capable of. I’ve met the niece you’re going to such great lengths to kill him for. You don’t think I want him dead just as badly? My life has been put on hold for months over this, so I’d like to be there—to see this whole thing put to rest.”
It’s a valid sentiment, and it sounds a lot like the reasoning behind why I want to be there. I want it badly enough, I was willing to ask her for the favor, but still, I don’t like the thought of her being out in the open when any of the Italians—Emiliano’s or Lucian’s—could see it as an opportunity to tie up a loose end.
“What is the event anyway?” Lindsey asks, tilting her head curiously.
“A charity ball.”
Her face lights up, and I feel my resolve buckling at her excitement.
“A ball? I’ve never been to one before.”
My lips press together in frustration, and I give my head a single shake.
“Oh, come on, Maks. No one’s going to notice me in that kind of crowd.”
She’s not wrong—especially since it’s a masquerade, which is the only reason I have a prayer of not getting turned away at the door myself. “Fine,” I agree. “I’ll take you with me, but only if you agree to obey my directions without question—and you stay by my side the entire night unless I specifically tell you otherwise.”
“Yeah. Fine,” she agrees quickly.
I release another heavy sigh, wondering if I’ll live to regret my decision. “Come on. If you’re done working for the day, let’s get the tickets now.”
Lindsey closes her laptop and jumps up from her seat more quickly than I’ve seen her move in days. She follows me back to my office, where I turn on the internet modem and open the drawer to my desk where I’ve been storing her purse for safekeeping.
Then she plops down in the chair behind my desk. “Where am I going?” she asks, brushing her fingers across the trackpad to wake up my computer.
“Here.” Shifting the laptop toward me, I quickly type in the web address and pull up the tab to purchase tickets, then I turn it back to her.
“Alright. Tickets for Lindsey Payne plus guest,” she says, the backlit screen reflecting in her glasses as she scrolls the page. “Wait, it’s a masquerade ?” Lindsey rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why you gave me a hard time at all. With a good mask, no one will even recognize me.”
“This isn’t just a party, Lindsey. If things go sideways, I would feel a lot better knowing you’re safe here at home.” And while she might be right that no one would pick her out of a crowd, anyone who recognizes me will notice her by my side.
Her fingers hover over the keyboard, and for a second, I think she might have finally heard what I’m trying to say. She glances up at me through her thick lashes, her blue eyes round with concern. “Then maybe you shouldn’t go either.”
“Just buy the tickets,” I growl, my frustration rising as my impatience takes control. Grasping the back of her chair, I plant my other hand on the desk beside the computer, leaning in so I can watch what she’s doing.
Lindsey’s breath catches, and her eyes snap back to the screen as she gets to work, typing in her information. From here, I can feel the soft warmth of her skin, and my gut clenches as I stand closer to her than I have since our wedding. I didn’t expect my desire for her to rear its ugly head, but after a week of keeping my distance, her proximity is overwhelming.
“What’s this charity for anyway?” she asks as she quickly clicks through the prompts.
Taking a deep breath, I try to get my thoughts back under control and immediately recognize my mistake. She smells fucking intoxicating , her sweet, citrusy scent triggering all the memories of her naked body trapped beneath me, the sounds of her pleasure echoing through my brain. Lindsey turns, looking up at me expectantly, and I instinctively glance down to meet her gaze. I hadn’t meant to get so close, but as our eyes connect, her face is within inches of mine. I can feel the cool, fresh breath that rushes past her lips as they part, and her gasp draws my gaze down to her full pink mouth. Fuck, I want to kiss her.
“Maks?” she murmurs, her eyes dilating.
The hint of attraction—or fear—makes my pulse quicken and my desire to claim her lips a hundred times stronger.
Wrenching myself upright to put space between us, I take a step back and shove my hands into the pockets of my chinos. The deliberate gesture will ensure I don’t touch her as I mask the bulge of my quickly swelling cock. “The children’s hospital—it’s a fundraiser for the hospital.” My voice sounds gruff with arousal, and I clear my throat. “You almost done?”
“Right.” Lindsey bites her lip as she turns back to the laptop, her fingers trembling when she puts them on the keyboard. She types in a few more details, then clicks to confirm her purchase. “All set,” she says.
“Great.” Moving toward the shelves along my office wall, I have the presence of mind to disconnect the modem. Then I step back to allow Lindsey into the hall before I close the office door behind us.
“Quitting time?” she asks, turning toward the living room, where she’s been spending her evenings before we turn in for the night. She’s been pointedly refusing my invitation to share a nightcap like we used to. Instead, since the wedding, she’s been taking a book to the couch. That way she can politely ignore me while she reads, leaving me to enjoy my drink in the kitchen on my own.
Usually, a couple fingers of chilled vodka numbs me enough to get me through the challenge of sleeping in the same room with her without sharing a bed. But the heat thrumming through my body is more than I can ignore, and it would take a considerable amount of alcohol to resolve what’s going on for me right now. I can’t just turn off my attraction to her, and I need to put more space between us before I cross a line.
“You coming?” Lindsey hesitates halfway down the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder when she realizes I’m not behind her.
“You go ahead,” I rasp. “I’ll be out in a few.”
Lindsey studies my expression for another moment, then she nods and turns toward the living room.