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He laughs, like the idea is ludicrous. “She’s not in love with me. She's just overly protective. I don’t want you worrying about her,” he reassures me, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’ll talk to her again. She needs time to come around. After Irina…”
I freeze. He’s talking about his mysterious first wife. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
Roman and Nadya made it seem like Irina betrayed him. Even if she cheated on him, that’s not a crime punishable by death in my books. But Maxim lives by a different moral code. I have so many questions I want to ask—starting with why he killed her—but he’s staring at the ceiling, and I get the sense he doesn’t want to talk about Nadya or Irina right now.
We’re both quiet as I settle back on his chest, the only noise the rise and fall of our breaths.
Out of nowhere, Maxim’s voice cuts through the dark. “Does Alyona know?”
“Huh?” His question startles me from my turbulent thoughts.
There’s a moment of weighted silence. “Does she know you believed I killed your aunt and that’s why you married me?”
“She knows I had ulterior motives for marrying you, but she doesn’t know what they are.” I snort. “If either she or my brothers knew the truth, they would absolutely lose their shit.”
His voice is amused as his fingers slowly comb through my hair. I close my eyes—his touch is comforting. My body definitely doesn’t think of him as the enemy.
“You’re damn brazen, lastochka. I don’t know many people who would have the balls to take me on like you did. Since you’re far from stupid, you must be a little crazy.” He gently pulls at a strand of my hair.
I smile into the dark. “That should be clear by now.”
“Tell me something about Alyona. Something I don’t already know.”
I hold back expressing surprise at his question. “She has a real sweet tooth. Loves it all, especially sour candies and anything gummy. She loves dogs and hates cats. Well, ‘hate’ is too strong of a word, but you know what I mean. What else… She gets frightened during storms. Had a bad experience as a kid and doesn’t like being alone when there’s a thunderstorm.”
Maxim is quiet for a while, staring straight ahead. “Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For sharing. These are things a father should know about his daughter.”
As my hands dance over his chest, he releases a tight breath. And when I move my hand lower and lower, finally dropping beneath his boxer briefs, he hisses into my hair and bucks up into my hands.
“Are you tired?” I ask him. “I know at your advanced age getting hard is sometimes?—”
He flips me on my back and settles between my spread thighs. “Shut up,” he says, pushing his rock-hard cock against my panty-covered entrance. “Does it feel like I have issues getting hard?”
No. No, it definitely does not.
“Sometime soon, I’m going to show you how virile I am. Trust me, that demonstration will leave you sore for a week.”
“Does this mean our one-month sex moratorium is off?” I taunt, and roll my hips up and into him.
“Fuck, yes.” He lets out a satisfied groan. He kisses behind my ear, and the gesture is sweet and does funny things to my insides. “But now, you sleep.”
"Sleep?" I pout. "Why waste time on sleep when we could be having fun?"
He makes an amused noise. "Because you've been through a shock. It may not feel like it, but your world has been turned upside down. Sleep now, so I can fuck you mercilessly tomorrow.”
So I do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
KIRA
I'mjolted awake far too early by raised voices outside the bedroom. Morning light filters through the curtains, and the distant hum of Manhattan traffic buzzes below. Considering I only slept a few hours, my body is heavy and tired.
I've barely propped myself up against the pillows when Maxim reenters the bedroom looking way too fresh despite the few hours of sleep he's had. Instead of his typical perfectly tailored suit, he's dressed in gray sweatpants and ... nothing else.
