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I find it hard to tear my eyes away from his chiseled torso. He's fine with a capital F. No, scratch that. I don't even try to look away as he grips the door frame overhead, causing his biceps to flex.
My breath catches seeing Maxim so unlike the uptight business oligarch who, up until last night, I would have happily killed in his sleep. It feels as if the world has shifted on its axis between yesterday and now. My chaffed breasts and sore thighs are proof of all that we shared.
He’s looking at me with the same hungry expression I’m surely giving him. I crook my fingers, inviting him back into bed. If he’s going to look that delicious, we need to finish what we started.
He stalks forward with a chuckle. “I wish we could, but we have guests.”
Guests?
“So early?” I make a face.
“It’s ten. Not too early. But I think you’ll want to come out and greet them.”
My eyebrows knit together as I tug the duvet up to my chin. “Why?” I’m not usually involved in Maxim’s business.
"Because..." His thumb traces over the swell of my bottom lip. "It's your family."
“What?! My brothers? Why the hell are you being so casual about this?”
I fling the duvet off and stalk through the room, looking for something decent to wear. There’s no one in the world I love more than my family and friends, but this seems like a very inopportune time to have a family reunion.
“And Alyona.”
“Jesus Christ, you told me her and Leo are in Italy.”
“They were, but now they’re back. And they want to see you.”
In the bureau mirror, I catch sight of myself—hair mussed, eyeliner smudged, lips swollen, my cheeks flushed with a satisfied glow. I consider taking a shower so I look less disheveled, but an insistent knock at the door relieves me of that idea.
“Kira? What’s going on?” Alyona sounds worried.
“I’ll be one second,” I holler back, wrestling to get a T-shirt over my head while Maxim looks on with amusement.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s so funny?” I whisper-yell.
“We’re married. It’s not a crime to have relations with your husband.”
I hold up my hand so he stops talking. I can’t even begin to go there. Maxim is Aly’s father and the man my brothers hate. They’d probably declare war on him if they could. So yeah, them seeing proof that we’ve been intimate is beyond awkward.
I fling one of his dress shirts off a chair towards him. “Can you put on some clothes please? Your bare chest is distracting me.”
He shrugs, leaning back against the wall. “I’m good.”
“Ugh,” I let out a thoroughly annoyed groan. He’s doing this to torture me, I’m sure of it.
I dart into the bathroom, pee, brush my teeth, and run my fingers through my hair, but honestly, it’s a lost cause. I can’t put this off any longer, so I slip on last night's hoodie and head out of the en suite. Maxim isn’t in the bedroom, so I assume he’s already with our guests—or my guests.
I swallow down my pride and head to the main sitting area. Raised voices float to me as I round the corner into the open space.
"What the hell do you mean the Black Company was behind the attack?" Andrei, my eldest brother and the Kozlov Bratva pakhan, stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, his broad shoulders tense and his jaw held tight as he addresses Maxim.
Unfazed, Maxim doesn't respond when he sees me enter the room. Instead, he rises, pours a coffee, and brings it to me before I can say otherwise.
All eyes in the room shift towards us and his small act of thoughtfulness.
"Kira!" Aly is the first person out of her seat, her eyes filling with tears that she attempts to blink away. Her arms circle me tightly, her breath shaky against my neck.
The scent of her familiar perfume wraps around us, and emotions clog my throat because I’ve missed her so much. Trying to keep my best friend and brothers at bay this whole time has been exhausting.
