There are shadows under his eyes and a tightness in his jaw that tells me he’s been through hell.
Relief floods through me so strongly I don’t even think. I rush toward him.
“Thank God you’re back,” I breathe, stopping just in front of him. “Are you okay? Do you know who sent those attackers? How did they even find out about the island? Was I the target or?—”
I realize I’m bombarding him with questions, my words tumbling out too fast, and I stop abruptly.
“Sorry,” I say, softer now. “You must be tired. I’m just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you the second you walked in.”
He looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes. Then he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch surprisingly tender.
He finally answers me, his voice low and tired. “We’re still looking for who was behind the attack. We'll find them.”
I nod. “Okay…”
But there’s something in the way he’s looking at me, a heaviness, a quiet suspicion. An awkward silence stretches between us. He’s staring at me like he’s waiting for something.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He studies me for a long moment. “Do you have anything to tell me?”
I blink, confused. “No… why?”
“Are you sure?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “You’re not hiding anything from me?”
I shake my head, genuinely lost. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
Without another word, he reaches behind his back, into the waistband of his trousers, and pulls out a familiar sleek pistol. The same gun Irina slipped me in the restaurant bathroom.
I gasp. “Where did you find that?”
His eyes harden. “That’s not the right question. The right question is, what the hell are you doing with a gun?”
My stomach drops. “It was Irina. She gave it to me when we went shopping. She said it was for protection… just in case things went bad. I don’t even know how to use it properly. I just… I took it because she insisted.”
He stares at me, jaw tight. “If my wife has a gun, I need to know about it. I can’t have you sneaking things into the house. I already have a mole in my organization. People are lying to me every single day. Someone is trying to kill me, and now my wife is hiding a weapon from me. How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?”
His words hit hard, and I see his point of view.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I should have told you. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you… I just didn’t think it mattered. But you’re right. No more secrets. I promise I’ll be upfront with you from now on.”
He lets out a long breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Good. Because if I can’t trust my own wife, then what’s the point of any of this?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “And you… you won’t keep things from me either, right?”
He hesitates, then says, “If I ever keep something from you, it’s for your own safety.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him that I’m not a child, that I can handle the truth. But I bite my tongue. For now, I’ll pick my battles wisely.
“Fine,” I whisper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Calina
Maxim studies me for a long moment, his hand is on my waist. He looks down at me with that intense, unreadable expression that always makes my pulse race.
“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he says, voice low and serious.
