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I’m going to have fun killing that man one day. I just know it. I turn and walk back toward Maxim, ignoring the three men as I reach for a glass of champagne from a passing server, offering him a smile as I take a sip. When I reach Maxim, I move right into him.
He offers me a curious smile before turning back to the man he is talking to and shaking his hand. I offer the man a polite smile when he nods his head at me, and then Maxim is ushering me out the door and into the waiting town car. Neither of us speaks until the partition is closed.
“Thank fuck that’s over.” Maxim sighs, pulling off his tie and tossing it on the seat beside him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Maxim, but Russian parties are tedious as fuck. I’d have run away and joined a circus by now.”
I lift my foot and rotate my ankle in circles a little, trying to ease the ache. I love shoes. They make me feel sexy, more confident, powerful, and taller. While some people collect art, I buy shoes. They are my one weakness. My girls used to tease me, saying I could do anything as long as I was wearing heels. Walking in a pair of four-inch stilettos is as natural for me as breathing. But tonight, even though I sat most of the evening, these shoes definitely don't mix with the pain the rest of my body is feeling.
“I have no talent in that area, I’m afraid. Alas, I’ll have to settle for pakhan.” His eyes drop to my feet. “Sore?”
I nod. “But they make my legs look good,” I say, not wanting to tell him the whole truth.
He opens his legs, lifts my foot, and rests it on the seat between them. His hands make quick work of undoing the strap and sliding the shoe off before he lifts my foot and digs his thumbs into the arch.
“Ahhh,” I groan out loud, unable to keep quiet.
He groans as well before moving a little, but I don’t care what he’s doing as long as he keeps massaging my foot. Once that one is done, he repeats the process with the other foot, making me almost come from the pleasure.
“Maxim Popov, you, sir, are a god,” I murmur, feeling boneless.
I let my eyes drift closed. With the combined vibration of the car’s engine and the feel of Maxim’s hands on my foot, I feel myself relax completely for the first time in days. When his hands start to wander up my calf, I open one eye and glare at him, which is when I realize something.
I gaze out the window, and even though it’s dark, I know I’ve never been here before. “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
With my shoes back on, I climb out of the car and stare up at the huge building that resembles a museum more than a house. As I stand there, Maxim drapes his jacket over my shoulders, and I burrow into it as the icy wind whips around me.
“This isn’t a home, Maxim,” I state, and he just shrugs.
“It’s passed from pakhan to pakhan. It’s been that way for many generations.”
“Okay, but why am I here?”
“Because I want you here. You need to play pretend girlfriend and trust me when I say no one will believe that the pakhan would allow his woman to live in a cheap hotel. From now until this deal is complete, you will stay here with me.” His voice leaves no room for argument.
I bite my lip, knowing this is a bad idea, but I can’t see a way out. At least here, there are no bars on the windows, so if I need to make a quick escape, I can.
“You’ll be safe here.”
I turn to look at him.
“I don’t know if you’re lying to me or yourself, but we both know I’m far from safe.”
I walk up the steps to the house and wait for him to open the door, which, surprisingly, is unlocked.
“Safe, he says, yet the man with a million enemies leaves his door unlocked.”
“If someone is trying to kill me, a door won’t stop them.”
He holds it open for me to enter.
“Maybe, but why make it easy for them?”
He doesn’t reply to that, but I make a mental note to slide a dresser in front of my door again tonight. Unlike Maxim, I know the danger I’m in. Whether it be a rundown hotel or an expensive mansion, I’ll take as many precautions as I need to keep myself safe—or at least give myself enough time to escape.
