I hate it. I hate him. And I hate myself even more for reacting like this to the man who kidnapped me.
After I stormed out of his office, I stayed locked in my bedroom for the rest of the day. Maxim didn’t come looking for me, and I didn’t come out. I paced. I stared out the window. I replayed every word we said to each other.
By evening, my stomach is growling loudly. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, which I barely touched.
A soft knock comes on the door. “Come in,” I call.
One of the maids steps inside, the same young woman who brought the shopping bags earlier. She has kind eyes and dark hair pulled into a neat bun.
“Good evening, Miss Calina,” she says with a slight Russian accent. “My name is Anya. It’s time for dinner.”
I hesitate. “Can it be brought up here?”
Anya gives me an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, Mr. Orlov has requested that you join him downstairs.”
Of course, he has. I want to refuse just to spite him, but my stomach chooses that moment to growl again. Loudly. I sigh in defeat.
I follow Anya downstairs. As we near the dining area, I hear deep male voices, more than one. I pause on the staircase.
“Do we have company?” I ask.
Anya simply nods. “Yes, miss,” and then she quietly slips away, leaving me to face whatever awaits alone.
I take a deep breath and step into the dining room.
The table is enormous, a long, sleek black marble slab that could easily seat twelve people. Heavy crystal chandeliers hang above it, casting warm golden light over the dark wood floors and charcoal walls. The setting is luxurious and intimidating, just like the rest of this house.
Maxim sits at the head of the table like a king, looking powerful and completely at ease in another perfectly tailored black shirt. Two men are seated to his left. The moment I appear in the doorway, their conversation cuts off mid-sentence. All three heads turn toward me.
Maxim’s eyes lock onto mine immediately, intense and unreadable. The two men study me with open curiosity, one with a shaved head and a rougher, more intimidating look, the other polished and sharp-eyed.
I feel exposed under their combined scrutiny, wearing one of the ridiculous outfits Maxim bought me, tiny black shorts that barely cover my ass and a low-cut tank top that exposes way too much of my cleavage. But thankfully neither of the men ogles me. They keep their eyes respectful, which is more than I expected.
Maxim’s lips curve into the faintest hint of a smirk as he gestures to the empty seat on his right. “Calina,” he says, voice smooth and commanding. “Join us.”
He stands and pulls out a chair for me. “Sit.”
I sink into the chair, and he retakes his seat. “Calina, these are my closest men, Viktor and Dmitri.”
The first man, Viktor, is the tall and muscular one with a shaved head, a nose that looks like it had been broken way too many times, and suspicious eyes. He looks like he’s been in more fights than I can count. He gives me a curt nod, his expression openly distrustful.
The second man, Dmitri, is leaner and more polished, with dark hair neatly styled and clever eyes. He offers me a warm, almost friendly smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Calina.”
“Likewise,” I reply, trying to keep my voice civil even though I feel completely out of place.
“Let’s eat,” Maxim says. He’s freshly showered, his hair still damp, and when he leans slightly closer to serve food onto my plate, I catch a clean, masculine scent that makes my stomach flutter in the most annoying way.
“Is this enough?” he asks quietly, placing a generous portion in front of me.
I nod. “Yes… thank you.”
As we begin eating, conversation flows around the table. Dmitri tries to include me, his tone warm and polite.
“So, Calina, how are you finding everything so far? I hope Maxim isn’t being too difficult already.”
I manage a small, tight smile. “It’s… an adjustment.”
Viktor, on the other hand, barely hides his suspicion. He keeps shooting me sharp glances, like he’s waiting for me to stab someone with my fork. “Must be strange,” he mutters. “Being informed you’re getting married out of the blue.”
