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“Nothing like that.” Maxim shakes his head and transfers the last few pieces of bacon from the frying pan to the pile on a separate plate.
“Is he not here?” I ask, another round of fear taking over. “Is he coming back?”
“Sit down and eat. You didn’t eat yesterday.” Maxim plates up some eggs and bacon for me and brings it to the table.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat anyway.” He shrugs and hands me a fork.
I take the fork and sit at the table. “He’s not here.”
Maxim brings his own plate, piled high with bacon and a small scoop of eggs. “No. He’s not.”
“He went back to the city.”
“Yes.” He nods and shovels in a forkful of eggs.
I stare at the strips of deliciousness on my plate and my appetite sours. He left. He just got up and left me here.
I clear the emotion from my throat. “Is he coming back?”
“He’s taking care of a few things and then…” He pauses. “He has to make a quick trip. He’ll be back soon.”
“Here? He’ll be back here?” Do any of these men know how to answer a direct question?
“After you get ready, we’re going back to the city.” He looks at the clock on the stove. “He said you have a work shift at one. I should be able to get you there in time.” These men are great at giving non answers.
My eyes burn as tears threaten, but I take a steady breath. “That’s all right. When I called yesterday, I said I’d need today off. I’ll, uh, I’ll just go get my shoes.” I’m still in the same leggings and t-shirt as the day the drama took place. I must look like a crazed woman with my hair in shambles. Thankfully there was a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom adjoining my room, otherwise I’d probably be killing Maxim with my breath right now.
“You should eat, Avery. It’s going to take about two hours to get home.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you though, for the breakfast. I just want to get back to my apartment.”
He finishes chewing while shaking his head. “No. He said to take you to the penthouse.”
“I don’t care what he said, Maxim.”
“Well, I—”
“You don’t work for him, right? You work for the Romanov brothers, one of them… Arman or Nikolai? I don’t know who is who—only that you two have talked about them both.”
“I work with Arman mostly.” He nods.
“Then you get orders from him, not Luka. Now, unless the Romanov brothers have some problem with me and want me taken to their house, just take me to my apartment.”
“He’s not going to like this.”
“He left, Maxim.” He promised he never would, and then he did. I was an idiot to fall for his line. Why wouldn’t he finally get tired of me. His job here was finished. Now he can go back to Russia.
“He’ll be back.”
“When?” I ask, gripping the back of the chair so hard I’m afraid the wood will splinter off into my skin.
His eyes are dark, like he’s angry and not sure where to put it. “I don’t know.”
“Fine.” I nod. “I’ll get my shoes, then I’ll help clean this up so we can leave.”
Luka
