“She’s the first woman you’ve brought here, you know,” Maksim tells me.
“No, Kayla was the first,” I snap.
Maksim snorts. “Didn’t know you viewed your head maid as a ‘woman.’ Should I be worried about competition?”
I’m about to lose it. My hand twitches toward my gun. “One more word, Maksim, and I swear—”
We round the corner, and the house comes into view. It’s a sleek, modern monstrosity of glass and steel. The garage door slides open silently as we approach, revealing a private elevator.
“Home sweet home,” Maksim mutters. He steers the Rolls-Royce into an empty spot next to my Bugatti Chiron. Before he kills the engine, he turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Want me to soften her up a bit first? You know, get her ready for your special brand of hospitality?”
I shake my head. “Leave her. I’ll handle it.”
Maksim shrugs and opens his door. “Suit yourself. Though, I gotta say, you’re usually not this… gentle with our guests.”
I step out of the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. “You implying something, Maksim?”
He holds up his hands, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “Me? Never. Just making an observation.”
I roll my eyes.
We walk to the elevator, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous garage. Maksim presses his thumb to the scanner, and the doors slide open with a soft hiss.
“So,” he says as we step inside, “what’s for supper? I’m thinking something light. Maybe some borscht, a side of knuckle sandwich for our new friend?”
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.
“I think you should go look for food somewhere else tonight.”
Maksim’s eyebrows shoot up. “Kicking me out already? And here I thought we were having a moment.”
I flip him off as the elevator doors open. “Fuck off, Maksim.”
“Ouch.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me,Pakhan. After all we’ve been through?”
“You’ll survive.”
Maksim steps out of the elevator, then turns back. “You sure you don’t want me to stay? I make a mean borscht. Our guest might appreciate a last meal.”
My jaw clenches. “I said fuck off.”
“Fine, fine.” He holds up his hands. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re hungry at 3 AM. I won’t answer.”
“I think I’ll manage.”
Maksim starts walking away, then pauses. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Chto?” I growl.
He grins. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That leaves a lot of options open,mudak.”
“Exactly.” He winks, heading toward his bike. “Have fun, boss!”
I watch him leave, shaking my head. The garage falls silent as the roar of his Kawasaki fades into the distance.
