Page 46 of Lust and Honor

Ava

Aurora is curled up against Maxim, her eyes heavy with sleep. I thank Emily for her hospitality and head toward the car when Aurora mumbles weakly, “Mama, my doll!”

I realize her favorite Elsa doll is still in the playroom. I glance at Carlo and ask if I can go grab it. Before he can respond, Emily smiles and steps in.

“Of course you can. I could also have one of the staff bring it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go get it myself. I’ll be quick.”

I hurry up the stairs. Before I reach the room, I catch the voices of two maids talking.

“Alice said Maxim had every whore he’d slept with at Heaven over the past few months brought to him. He made every single one of them take a pregnancy test, even the ones he’d been with months earlier. He wasn’t taking any chances.”

Another voice laughs,

“Poor thing. Imagine Maxim, who always told Don Carlo he’d rather cut his balls off than have kids, waking up to find a woman and a kid clinging to him.”

“But to be fair, Ava’s gorgeous. A natural redhead, just the way Maxim likes.”

“Gorgeous or not, it doesn’t matter. Maxim’s never spent two nights in a row with the same girl. To him, all women are the same. They’re just… walking pussies.”

“Who knows? Did you ever think Don Carlo would fall head over heels for a woman like that?”

“Don Carlo was always a normal guy. His womanizing was within normal limits. But if there’s such a thing as a man whore, it’s Maxim. Alice even went to his place once. She said he’s got two huge stripper poles in his house. I mean, the nights he’s not at the whorehouse, he brings the whorehouse home. That man thinks with his dick, and he’s completely insatiable. In movies, a guy like that turns into a saint overnight. In real life, any woman with half a brain wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

A voice suddenly cuts through the air behind me. “What’s taking you so long?”

I jump.

It’s Maxim, getting closer. I swallow hard and dart into the room. I glance at the shocked, frightened eyes of the staff, grab Aurora’s doll without a word, and slip out of the room.

***

I hold the glass under the faucet, and for the thousandth time since we got home, my mind drifts back to the words I overheard a few hours ago. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but the thought of Maxim sleeping with different women fills me with rage and disgust, and I wonder: was he doing the same, sharing his bed with different women during the past month?

He owes me nothing, so why does it bother me so much? They were both right. If I were a sensible woman, I wouldn’t let my heart get tangled up with a womanizer like Maxim. Not that he’s made any move to seduce me. My hand tightens around the glass. Damn it. That’s another thing eating at me, but why? Why does it hurt so much that he’s not even trying to charm me? Since when did I become this needy?

“Thinking about me?”

Maxim’s voice snaps me back, and I realize the glass is spilling over under the tap. He’s standing just a step away, wearing nothing but loose sweatpants, arms crossed over his bare chest, staring at me. Even relaxed, thick veins stood out on his arms, one prominent line snaking down his powerful bicep. My fingertips tingle at the memory of how good his hard body felt under my touch. I shut off the faucet and take a sip of water under his heavy gaze.

“Well, go on. I’m curious, how far did we get?”

I give him a questioning look. He elaborates, “You were fantasizing about me, right? Did I at least make you come?”

I scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Won’t deny it, baby, but I assure you, I have very solid reasons. I can show you. In my room.”

He doesn’t need a bedroom to prove his point. The sight of his sculpted body in front of my greedy eyes is proof enough, but he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on me.

“In your dreams,” I say mockingly, squaring my shoulders. Then I set the glass on the counter and open the fridge. My skin burns with the same heat I felt three years ago, and I desperately need the cool air to calm the flush on my cheeks.

I stare aimlessly at the shelves when I feel the warmth of his hand over mine on the handle. His body is so close that the heat of him seeps through my silk robe, grazing my skin. His warm breath brushes the curve of my neck, and his whisper reaches my ear:

“I was dreaming. You, me, a big bed with red sheets. I saw you gasping under my weight... soft moans spilling from those pretty lips of yours.”

My eyes flutter close involuntarily, and I’m thrown back to that night. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against his iron frame.