“And you actually bit him?”
“He didn’t, like, announce he was trying to help,” I say defensively. “I couldn’t swim, so he grabbed me, and I freaked out a little.”
“You can’t swim?”
“Icouldn’tswim. I love to now. I was the star of my college’s intramural swim team, and people who say intramural sports aren’t?—”
“How old are you?” Maksim interrupts.
I answer, “Twenty-eight,” automatically, a figurative—and literal—step behind.
I’ve never seen Maksim exercise before, but he’s in better shape than I am despite my training.
And now he knows. “That is a long time.”
I say nothing. It’s getting harder to focus on our conversation, the farther we run. My muscles are screaming at me to stop, and my lungs are burning from lack of oxygen. I’ve successfully completed this before. I know I can do it. But it’s unpleasant every single time, and I don’t even have sex to look forward to later.
I watch the dogs race ahead, admiring their energy and attempting to soak it in by osmosis.
“What did he tell you about me?” Maksim asks suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
He scoffs lightly. “You knew my name in Madrid. The only way you could have known that was if Lev had mentioned me. So, what did he say?”
“That you like football. That you party too much. That he tried to give you more time to be a kid.”
Maksim is silent for the rest of the run, which gives me plenty of time to panic that I said too much or not enough. I know Lev’s relationships with his brothers are complicated. I’m worried I just made one of them worse.
After we herd the hounds back into their kennel, Maksim glances at me. “Same time tomorrow?”
“I—sure,” I reply, ridiculously relieved by the closest to approval I’ve felt from any member of Lev’s family.
He nods, then heads for the garage. I continue inside, skipping the gym today. I can do the routine of crunches and lunges and sit-ups in my room, and the only person aside from Lev I’ve sparred with is Misha, who went with Lev. Maybe, if tomorrow’s run goes well, I’ll ask Maksim to join me.
Upstairs, I turn into the hallway of Lev’s wing and halt. I’m certain I closed the door when I left this morning, and it’s open now. This place is secure—Lev said so—and I’ve seen the gates and the guards and the cameras myself. But there are peopleinside here—like Igor and Aleksandr—who might want to harm me.
I approach cautiously, wishing I’d taken my gun earlier even though running with it makes me almost as nervous as not having it.
“Hello?” I call, reaching the doorway.
A woman walks out of the bathroom a few seconds later, a white towel in her left hand. Her long hair is pulled back in a neat braid, and she’s wearing an outfit I instantly recognize as identical to the dress I got married in. Her expression suggests I’m the one who is somewhere I shouldn’t be.
“Hi,” I say.
No response. Her demeanor reminds me of Victoria’s—silent disdain wafting my way.
“Do you speak English?”
She’s silent for a beat, then rattles off rapid Russian. I don’t recognize a word of it.
She walks back into the bathroom, emerging with a second larger towel. She points at the bed, where a neat stack of fresh towels sits. Then passes me and heads into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
At least the maid knows her place.
CAN’T HELP FALLING
“Idon’t like him,” Malcolm states.
