“Is this where you claim to be a virgin, Morozov?”
“I am! No thanks to you.”
Maxim pulled her to the chair, glaring as he sat her down. He ran his fingertips over her soft skin, like a loving husband, feeling the tension in her shoulders. She had a nice, long neck, and he leaned down, pressing his nose against her skin. She smelled delicious, but it only hid the demon in her. “Liar.”
Maxim greeted the men at the table, shaking hands and getting names. Emilio was the son of the steel mill south of Moscow and their biggest competitor. The Italians had a designated section set aside for them. For over a year, Maxim had been trying to get a meeting, and now, only after word had gotten around that he had partnered with the Morozovs, it was finally arranged. He was bitter toward the fact that they hadn’tagreed based on his merit alone, but many things in the mafia required someone more connected to help.
There was some finesse in convincing someone to sell their successful company, but Maxim was an expert in such a thing. His family had acquired ten other steel mills in the last ten years, making them nearly the number one distributor.
Of course, the steel mill was a cover for the manufacturing of weapons that were discreetly shipped to foreign countries, aiding wars and takeovers, but no one outside of this table needed to know that.
He glanced at Kira. She sat straight, with her hands in her lap, listening intently to the conversation. For the most part, they spoke Russian, but it was the little whispers they did with each other that Maxim wanted aid with. He wouldn’t be played a fool at his own meeting.
It was only after they finished their discussions and food and drink were on the table that Emilio even glanced in Kira’s direction.
“I’ve never met a Morozov.” Emilio sat back with his drink in hand.
Kira said nothing, and Maxim suppressed his amusement. Apparently, she did know how to obey.
Emilio looked away. “They aren’t that impressive.”
Maxim let the comment slip. He was surprised to feel defensive. It wasn’t as if he disagreed, but the man was talking about his wife. Still, Maxim sipped his drink and remained silent, turning to the stage as the lights flickered.
“That’s because you aren’t worth impressing.”
Maxim snapped his head to Kira, who innocently sipped her drink. He reached under the table and gripped her thigh with tight fingers.
Emilio sneered. “So she can speak. I thought for a moment you were too dim-witted. All the cousin fucking perhaps.”
Kira tightened her lips and remained silent as she tried to peel Maxim’s fingers off her thigh. She had never been disrespected before, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Maxim probably thought her father used her in meetings like this, but the one thing about Yakov was his inability to ever admit he needed anyone.
And if Maxim knew what she heard in their secret whispers, he wouldn’t be sitting here friendly and satisfied. Kira almost didn’t want to tell him.
Let him suffer for his ego.
The music started, and Maxim finally let her go. Kira rubbed her leg. The pain was a welcome distraction from the fact that she was starving. She had only allowed herself a bite at dinner as punishment for eating so much candy while stressing about this event. It helped that she was nauseous, but she was only feeling sick because she hadn’t eaten. She sipped her water in an attempt to smother the illness. She’d do anything to keep from throwing up. Kira used to be bulimic back when she was fourteen and fifteen, and there was lingering PTSD.
The performance on stage was mediocre at best. Kira had never seen such a poor production. If she were the person Maxim was meeting, she would be insulted by it, but Emilio was smiling, enjoying himself as he eyed the half-naked men on the stage.
Maxim wrapped an arm around her chair as he leaned into her ear. She remained still, clenching her teeth. “How does it feel?” He stroked her arm, if only to give the appearance that they were friendly. “To be caught in one of your many lies?”
Kira’s brows knit, and she snapped her head to him, but Maxim only pointed. She followed his finger to one of the dancers, and just then they sprang to the front of the line and backflipped, landing on their knees. Then his eyes came intocontact with hers. Everything froze. The dancer missed a beat, and she forgot to breathe.
It broke quickly as the dancer popped to his feet and found his spot, his gaze constantly finding her even as he tried not to.
Kira tightened her shoulders. The man had been a stripper for her bachelorette party last month. Something that had been done in secret. “You had me followed.”
“Ever since our dinner. For two months. And in that time, Morozov, all your secrets were revealed. So you can play your game. Pretend you are innocent and a victim. But this relationship could actually move forward if you stopped lying.”
Kira smiled and met his gaze. “Are you satisfied with yourself? Assumptions fill your ego?”
Maxim was disappointed. He wanted to see a crack in her conviction. But here she was still claiming to be virtuous. He glared as he sat back, taking up his whiskey and drowning it.
After the show, Maxim didn’t leave. Emilio and his crew took off, but he remained seated till most everyone cleared out. Kira thought it was his temper that made him sit there with a pout until one of his guards tapped on his shoulder and whispered, “We’re ready.”
Maxim got up, grabbing her arm. She squealed at the pain and stumbled to follow. He didn’t care who saw them. All that was left was the staff cleaning up, and they all turned their heads away.
“Where are we going?” Kira tried to keep up with his long legs. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”
