She rose to her feet then. “I’ll go get ready to head to the office.”
“You can’t go back to the apartment,” I said gently. “Just stay here. You need the rest.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have an interview at Milano’s bar soon so I’ll head out there about ten. I’ll text you when I have the money.”
“Alright,” she said, and headed off lifelessly back to her bedroom.
I watched her leave and felt a heaviness settle in my heart. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that everything we had worked so hard for was turning into sand that was escaping between my fingers, and the harder I tried to hold on the faster it was running out.
I tried to finish my breakfast, but I had long lost my appetite. I needed to talk to Maxim about security, and about getting us the fuck out of being prisoners in his house. I could stand the pressure, but Britney… I was sure she was about to break.
Maxim had left before either of us woke, and I was quite relieved at the news, especially after the way I had accused him last night. A lot had happened within the space of a very short time, but now I couldn’t avoid him anymore.
We had very grave matters to settle.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maxim
I was at lunch when I received the call from her. Two of my contacts from Wall Street were with me.
“I need to speak with you,” she said to me. “Can I come to the office?”
“I’m at lunch,” I replied. “Can you come to 11 Madison park in about forty minutes?”
“Sure,” she answered and ended the call.
I put my phone away and tried my best to hide the excitement that filled my body at the thought of seeing her again. I quickly ended my meeting. They were both surprised as we had just sat down and ordered our meal, but they stood and left immediately.
I dialed Roman. “What has she been up to today?”
“She’s been to the bank and two bars. One in Williamsburg, and the other in Greenwich Village.”
I looked away in thought. No doubt she had gone in search of a job, but those were not very attractive areas. She needed a job and one where I had some semblance of control, I quickly made the call. Now all I had to do was find a way to present it to her in a way that she would find easy to accept it.
She came in, wild-haired and dressed more provocatively than usual. She was in a pair of black shorts that showed her flawless porcelain skin. Her lips painted a deliciously sinful red. The strappy black top she wore drew my eyes to her firm breasts.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair at the painful blast of arousal that made my cock feel heavy and hot between my legs. What was it about her that enraptured me so much?
She took her seat and asked for a drink of water.
I signaled to the waiter, and soon enough a glass was brought to her which she consumed quickly. Then she set the empty glass down and met my gaze like a soldier now readied for battle. It was endearing as fuck.
“You want something to eat?” I asked.
“No need,” she replied.
“They have Pelmeni and barabulka here,” I said. As I recalled from her behavior at functions we were forced to attend by our fathers as young adults, she had a great fondness for the traditional dumplings and red mullet dishes.
She swallowed, her appetite wetted.
“Lunch is on me.” I called the waiter over to take her order.
She picked up the menu and looked at it. “I also want the celeriac and hazelnut soup, and the blueberry pancakes.”
“Any drinks, ma’am?” the waiter asked.
“A glass of Sancerre, please,” she said and he went on his way.
She returned her gaze to mine. “We need to uh … talk about my current living arrangements, and some other things. But let’s start with that.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and leaned into the chair to watch her, my gaze on her plump, red lips. How I wanted them around my cock.
“We can’t stay with you for much longer, so by tomorrow we should be out of your hair, but we will need to leave with security. I don’t want to ask my father for it, and neither do I necessarily want to ask you, but I think we can both agree that the attacks are somewhat linked to you so you should take responsibility for what happens.”
Time to make my stance. “You’ll only have my protection under my own terms. You’ll have to live in my house, where security can be thorough until this situation is sorted out. You left today against instructions. My people tried to reason with you to allow them drive you but—”
“Maxim,” she stopped me. “I cannot live like this. I have a life and responsibilities.”
“It is a temporary situation that will all be sorted out soon enough.”
“Well until then I'm not about to leech off you. We will return home, and you will provide us with the needed security there.”
“No.” I reiterated. I would not allow any negotiation on this point. “Full protection or nothing at all. Maybe you can weather the pressure of knowing you can be attacked at any time, but I saw what last night’s episode did to Britney. You want to take that risk?”
She glared at me, but I was not backing down, and since she cared enough for her friend, it wouldn’t be as easy for her not to do so.
At that moment someone stopped by our table. We both turned to see the striking blonde standing next to us. Holly Tudor. She was the youngest daughter of a multi-millionaire hedge fund manager. A diamond choker encircled her neck, and her dress, a silky champagne rose number with spaghetti straps, hugged her hips and flowed down her thighs.
“Maxim,” she called in the breathy voice I was quite familiar with.
She proceeded to rest her hand on my shoulder, and the unnecessary contact earned her an irritated expression. Her hand dropped away. We slept together on occasion when we met at different parties, but it was an unspoken agreement that it came with no strings. It was an agreement she had adhered to thus far. I turned to the ball of fire before me and understood what had threatened little Holly Tudor.
“This is?” she asked, her tone as condescending as was humanly possible.
“No one,” Freya answered and rose to her feet.
I knew just how to sit her back down. “Running away so quickly? Don’t you want you Pelmeni and barabulka, your soup, your blueberry pancakes?”
She pulled the strap of her purse off her shoulder and returned to her seat, a blindingly fake smile plastered on her face. “You’re right, but I have better things to do so I’ll take it to go.”
“That’s true,” I said and took a sip from my glass of Scotch. “How’s the job search going?”
She turned a murderous gaze on me, but the woman standing next to me looked particularly amused, as she confirmed that Freya was truly no one, at least financially.
“Maxim,” she called, in her breathy voice. “When am I seeing you? How does this weekend sound? I’ll be all yours.”
“Not this weekend, but thanks for dropping by, Holly,” I said to her.
She responded with a sultry smile while she somehow managed to make sour when she turned it on Freya. She slinked away and I didn’t bother looking back, my gaze fully on the seething woman before me.