I was squealing with laughter, pounding my mittens on his back, when I heard a man say, “Maksimilian?”
CHAPTER 28
With a laugh, Máxim turned, which put my ass—in tights—on display. “Ah, Aleksandr.”
His brother? “Down, Ruso!”
He let me slide down him, then pulled me around with my back to his front. He draped his arms over me, possessiveness in full force.
Aleksandr was as tall as Máxim and had similar features, that strong jaw and chin, the proud nose and broad cheekbones—though Aleksandr’s eyes were amber to Máxim’s blue. And Aleksandr had tattoos on his fingers and closer-cut hair. Definitely rougher around the edges than Máxim.
Aleksandr stared at his brother as if he didn’t recognize him. “You look . . . changed.”
Máxim’s hair was ruffled, his skin tanned, his bright blue eyes hooded with relaxation. He appeared younger and was grinning—an authentic smile. His brother’s shock clearly amused him.
Yet I could detect currents of strain between them, as if Aleksandr remained on guard.
“You brought a date.” Aleksandr turned his attention to me. I must have looked like I’d just gotten jackhammered in a covered bridge.
“Katya, this is my brother Aleksandr. Bratan, this is my woman, Cat Marín.” There was an undertone of say something, I dare you to his words.
“It’s a pleasure, Aleksandr,” I said. “I can’t wait to meet your bride.”
The man frowned down at me. “You’re from Miami?”
Máxim laughed. “Yes, this is the girl I held prisoner. But as you can see, she’s an overjoyed guest here. Aren’t you?” He squeezed me.
“I’m here to keep Máxim in line. There’ll be no mischief while I’m on watch, or I’ll kick his Russian ass.”
That got Máxim to laugh, while Aleksandr just looked baffled. Finally he said, “Natalie is going to like you very well. And please call me Aleks.”
After another couple of stilted exchanges, Máxim and I started back to our room.
As we made our way up the stairs, I asked him, “Why was he so shocked?”
“He’s never seen me like this.”
“Happy?”
Máxim paused on a step, seeming as shocked as Aleks had just been. “Happy,” he repeated, as if he were turning the word over in his mind, tasting it. “I suppose I am.”
“You enjoyed his surprise. It amused you. Is my presence here solely to screw with people?”
“Though I was perversely pleased by Aleksandr’s surprise, I brought you here because I want you with me. Simple as that.” He leaned down to say, “And already, you’re glad you came. In both senses of the word.”
I was attending a Nebraskan dinner in a countryside lodge as the date of a Russian mafiya sex god. What exactly did one wear to an occasion like that? I hoped I’d picked the right outfit.
My simple black pencil skirt accentuated my ass without being too tight. But my copper-colored blouse was a work of art. It was a cold-shoulder design with a scoop neck and long blouson sleeves that were cut out to reveal my arms from my shoulders to my elbows. The back dipped low, almost to my racy new bra, and was held in place by a string (which I hoped Máxim would spend all night thinking about untying). My black, strappy heels were high—because of my date’s height.
Saving the pearls for the ceremony, I wore the lock-and-key earrings. I left my hair down, curling loosely. All that time by the pool had highlighted strands to a caramel color, and I wanted to show them off.
My makeup was understated, a touch of tawny eye shadow, mascara, and a bit of shimmery blush. The burnished gloss on my lips picked up the play of light on my blouse. My black clutch had a small copper medallion in the center.
Holding my breath, I walked out of the dressing room to join Máxim. “Te gusta? You like?”
“Me gusta,” he murmured, immediately frowning. “I’m usually smoother than this, but you have a habit of making my mind go blank.” He crossed to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I could not be prouder to show you off.”
I petted the lapel of his black suit. The lines were so classic and crisp, he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad. “When you burn through all of your money, you can be a model.”
With a grin, he said, “It’s good to have a backup plan.”
“How much did your suit cost?”
“The price of this one gave even me pause.” And he would wear it once. Sometimes his wealth blew my mind.
He grazed his forefinger against one of my earrings. “The lock-and-key ones. Do they make you think of me?”
“Only every time they kiss my neck.” Oh, I could tell he liked that.
He offered his arm. “Come, let’s go. Before I say to hell with this and take you to bed.”
His smoldering look made me very aware that I wore garters and stockings for him later.
I took his arm, and we headed downstairs toward the Grand Hall. As I’d dried my hair, I’d studied the fire escape plan to note exits, a habit born of self-preservation. I now knew the layout of the lodge.
In the reception area outside the hall, dressed-up people mingled. At the outskirts of the room, men in understated suits stood alone, near all the exits. I recognized two of them from Miami. I just stopped myself from waving.
“I see your security, Máxim. Is Nebraska a hotbed of mob hits?”
“Better safe than sorry.” He covered my hand on his arm. “The Sevastyans have much here that is precious to them.”