Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Calina
After breakfast, Maxim disappears into his study to work. I spend the day curled up in the library with a book.
At noon, we have lunch together, and Maxim orders take out, instead of me cooking.
When evening comes around, we head to the massive walk-in closet to get ready to trail Adrian.
I’m happy he’s taking me along. It feels like a small show of trust. I stand in front of the racks, running my fingers over the clothes.
“What are we supposed to wear to blend in at this bar?”
Maxim is already pulling out a pair of dark jeans. “Something casual but nice. We need to look like we belong there.”
I smile faintly. “So… something a little sexy?”
His eyes heat instantly as he looks at me. “Yeah.”
I pull out a skin-tight black sequin dress. It’s short, hitting mid-thigh, with a deep V-neckline that shows just enough cleavage and thin straps that leave my shoulders bare.
The sequins catch the light with every movement, making it shimmer like liquid night. It hugs every curve, accentuating my waist and hips. I slip it on, then add strappy heels and loose waves in my hair.
When I turn around, Maxim is already dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to show his tattooed forearms.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him in something so casual. He looks… different. Less like a Pakhan and more like a dangerously handsome man who could have me dropping my panties with a single look.
The jeans cling to his powerful thighs, and the shirt stretches across his broad chest. He could wear rags and still look devastating.
His gaze darkens as it roams over me. “You look beautiful in that dress.”
I feel a flush of warmth at the compliment. “Thank you. You clean up nicely too.”
“Other men are going to see you like this,” he growls, stepping closer. “They’re going to look at what’s mine.”
I cut him off before he can continue. “Too bad, because I don’t have time to pick another dress..”
He looks like he wants to argue, but I raise an eyebrow, daring him. Finally, he exhales through his nose and nods.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
With my hand in his, we head downstairs to the car, and head out into the night.
After a while of driving in silence, I bring up what has been running through my mind.
“I’m surprised you’re bringing me,” I say quietly, glancing at him. “I didn’t think you’d want me involved.”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “I already told you, the guards are off today. I’m not leaving you alone at the house.”
I nod, but push a little more. “Yeah, but still… it means you trust me enough to bring me into something like this.”
He turns his head slightly, dark eyes meeting mine for a brief second. “Yes.”
I don’t answer. I just smile faintly and look out the window, my heart doing a strange little flip at his words.
After a while, I ask, “What are you going to do if you find out the person working with Adrian is from your own side?”
I see his jaw clench, the muscle ticking under the dashboard lights. His grip tightens on the wheel.
“The person will have a slow and painful death,” he says, voice low and cold. “For betraying me… and for putting you in danger.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the quiet fury in his tone. I turn to look at him fully. He’s deadly serious. And for the first time, I realize just how protective he is of me.
We arrive at The Obsidian Lounge. Maxim parks a short distance away, then takes my hand as we walk inside.
It’s a sleek, upscale bar in a trendy part of the city. Dim lighting, dark wood, leather booths, and a long marble counter glowing with ambient blue lights.
People are already trickling in, dressed nicely, laughing and talking over drinks. It’s easy to blend in.
He orders a water for himself and a glass of red wine for me. We find a booth with a good view of the entrance and settle in.
“Why are you drinking water?” I ask, sipping my wine.
“I need to stay alert,” he replies simply, eyes scanning the room.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the crowd. People move around us, chatting, flirting, ordering drinks. Then Adrian walks in dressed in a simple dark button-up and slacks instead of his usual formal wear.
I spot him immediately and nudge Maxim’s arm. “There.”
He gives me a small nod, confirming he’s seen him. Adrian is alone. He moves to a booth in the back, checking his watch like he’s waiting for someone.
Maxim’s body tenses beside me, but he stays calm, one hand resting possessively on my thigh under the table.
We keep our eyes on him from our booth. He sits alone for a few minutes and then a waiter approaches his table.
The man has long hair and is wearing a black face cap pulled low and glasses that obscure most of his face. In the dim lighting, it’s hard to make out any real features.
The waiter places a drink on Adrian's table and leaves. Something feels off.
I lean closer to Maxim. “Did you notice? None of the other waiters are wearing face caps.”
Maxim’s entire body goes rigid beside me. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Before I can say anything else, Adrian stands up and follows the waiter toward the back of the bar. Maxim is already moving, sliding out of the booth with lethal grace.
I hurry after him, my heels clicking against the floor as I try to keep up. We push through the crowd and slip out the back exit just in time to see Adrian climbing into a black car.
The vehicle peels away from the curb before we can even get close. Maxim curses again, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
We rush back toward our own car, but it’s too late. They’re already gone, swallowed up by the city traffic.
He slams the wheel, jaw clenched tight. The anger rolling off him is palpable. “We had him. We could’ve seen who that bastard was.”
I reach over and place my hand on his thigh, trying to offer some comfort. “Hey… maybe next time. He’ll get sloppy again. Whoever that person is, they’ll slip up eventually. The important thing is Adrian didn’t see us. He still doesn’t know we’re onto him.”
Maxim exhales slowly, his hand covering mine on his thigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
I can see how much the failed mission is weighing on him. “You know what?” I say suddenly, turning to face him. “Instead of going straight home… how about we go to a club?”
He glances at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I hate clubs. The noise gives me a headache. That bar we were just in was already pushing it.”
“Come on,” I coax, smiling. “We’re already dressed for it. Let’s go out, have a little fun. Just dance, let off some steam. Besides… it’ll be our first real outing together as a couple.”
“How about I take you to dinner instead?”
“You can take me to dinner another time. I want to go to a club tonight.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then looks at me with a raised brow. “You really like going to clubs, don’t you?”
I laugh softly. “You’ll be shocked, but that night you took me and Milana… that was actually the first time I’d ever been to one.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yes. My brothers have always been so protective, we barely went anywhere. That night we had just… snuck out for once.”
He shakes his head, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. “Then I guess I’d better take you to a club now before you decide to sneak out again.”
I grin. “You’d better.”
He changes direction, driving us to an upscale club called Eclipse. The line outside is long, but Maxim bypasses it completely, leading me through a private side entrance.
The moment we step inside, the music hits me. Deep, pulsing bass that vibrates through my chest.
The massive dance floor packed with bodies moving sensually to the rhythm.
We head to the bar. I order a cosmopolitan while he gets a whiskey. He sips it slowly, eyes scanning the crowd, even now.
Often by The Weekend, comes on and a smile spreads across my face.
“Come on, let's dance,” I say, grabbing his hand.
I drag him onto the dance floor before he can protest. The moment we reach the center, I turn around and press my back against his chest, starting to move to the rhythm.
His hands settle on my hips, pulling me flush against him as we sway together.
The music wraps around us. I roll my hips slowly, grinding back against him in time with the beat. I feel him harden behind me almost instantly.
His grip tightens, fingers digging into my waist as he moves with me, his body molded to mine.
His left hand slides up my side, brushing the curve of my breast through the thin sequin dress before settling possessively on my throat, tilting my head back against his shoulder.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, wife,” he growls low in my ear, lips brushing the shell as we grind together.
I smile, reaching back to run my fingers through his hair. “Maybe I like danger.”
His response is a growl. Every roll of my hips presses my ass against his hard cock. His hands roam, sliding down my thighs, then back up under the hem of my short dress, teasing the edge of my panties before moving away again.
I arch my back, pushing into him, feeling the heat of his body, the strength of his arms, the way he’s barely holding himself back.
Sweat glistens on my skin. I can feel how wet I am already, my body aching for him.
When I turn in his arms to face him, his eyes are dark with lust. He pulls me tight against him, one thigh sliding between mine as we move together. His mouth hovers inches from mine, our breaths mingling.
“You look so fucking good grinding on me like this,” he murmurs, voice rough.
I bite my lip, rolling my hips against his thigh, and his hand squeezes my ass hard, pulling me even closer as the song changes to something more sensual by an artist I don't recognize.
After three songs, my throat is dry and my legs are starting to feel the hours I've been in these heels. I lean back against Maxim’s chest and tilt my head up.
“I’m thirsty.”
He nods, guiding me back toward the bar with a possessive hand on my lower back. I order water this time while he stands beside me, scanning the room.
Just then, the manager of the club who had given us access earlier, walks up and starts talking to Maxim.
As I sip my water, a cloud of overpowering cologne hits me and as I turn to find the offender, a man slides up to the bar beside me, smiling.
His designer shirt is at least a size too small, straining across his chest, while a gaudy gold watch the size of a dinner plate gleams on his wrist.
Nothing he’s wearing matches. The loud patterned shirt clashes with his belt, his shoes don’t belong with either.
He flashes me a practiced smile, the sort that has probably worked on plenty of women before.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I glance at him politely. “I’m with my husband.”
He chuckles like he doesn’t believe me. “Come on, don’t play hard to get. A woman like you shouldn’t be here without a proper drink. Let me buy you something stronger.”
“I’m not interested,” I say, keeping my tone firm but civil.
He leans closer, undeterred. “You don’t have to be like that. Just one drink. I promise I’m good company.”
I step back slightly. “Please leave me alone. My husband is right here,” I say, pointing to where Maxim is standing.
The man’s eyes flick to Maxim for half a second before returning to me with a smirk. “He doesn’t seem to mind. Come on, sweetheart—”
His hand lands on my waist.
“Take your hands off me,” I say sharply.
He doesn’t. Instead, he tightens his grip, still smiling like this is some kind of game.
Before I can react, Maxim’s voice cuts through the music like ice.
“You heard the lady,” he says, dangerously calm. “Take your fucking hands off her.”
The man turns, scoffing. “Who the hell are you?”
Maxim steps in front of me, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “Every second you still have your hands on my wife is another second you’re digging your own grave. Remove it. Now.”
The man must finally see the danger in Maxim’s eyes because he starts to pull back, muttering, “Relax, man, I didn’t mean—”
Too late.
In one fluid motion, Maxim grabs the man’s wrist, slams his hand down onto the bar, and drives a knife straight through it, pinning it to the wooden surface.
The man screams.
The entire bar goes silent for a split second before chaos erupts. People gasp and back away. The man is howling in pain, blood pooling on the bar.
Security rushes over, but the moment they see Maxim, they freeze. Instead of confronting him, they immediately apologize.
“Sorry, Mr. Orlov. We’ll handle this.”
They grab the screaming man and drag him away while he cries about calling the police.
I turn to Maxim, heart racing. “I think that’s our cue to go home.”
“You bet,” he grinds out.
The moment we’re back in the car, I let out a long breath.
“You didn’t have to go that far,” I say, glancing at him. “Were you that jealous?”
Maxim scoffs, starting the engine. “I don’t get jealous. Jealousy is an emotion I’m not familiar with. I don’t waste my time with it. I was simply protecting what’s mine. No one disrespects my wife. That disrespect is aimed at me.”
I laugh softly, watching his clenched jaw. “Of course. You’re not jealous at all.”
He gives me a sharp sideways look that only makes me laugh harder.
My husband definitely has a jealous streak.