Page 54 of Maxim

“She was very attractive,” I comment, remembering the confident way she waltzed into the cafe like it was a fucking catwalk.

Max shrugs dismissively like he doesn’t exactly agree with me. “I guess. Superficially at least.” Then he fixes his gaze on me. “I’m not interested in anyone else, Natalya. Only you, malyshka.”

“OK.” The word comes out all breathy like I’m a fucking porn star. Honestly, it’s pathetic how quickly he’s won me over. Feminists everywhere must be weeping with disappointment.

“Now are you going to let me feed you?” At the mention of food, my stomach growls loudly. Max smirks. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I could eat something,” I admit. While I had a toasted panini at lunch, that was hours ago.

“Then I will take you to my favorite Italian restaurant.”

His hand slides across the leather seat and grips mine. I could pull away but I don’t.

***

When I tell Max I’m tired and I’m ready to go home, he doesn’t argue. He settles the bill for our meal and drinks and calls his driver. We climb back into the SUV and then his driver takes me home.

Max insists on holding my hand the entire way, even though we don’t talk. It’s strange. I’m not used to this level of affection. Even before Rick, none of the guys I dated were particularly affectionate.

There was Diego. He told me he loved me after our third date. Unfortunately, he had a lot of love to give and several other women also benefited from his affections. At the same time.

Then there was Ivan. I thought we were in love but after nine months, just as I was building up to saying those three little words, he dumped me. Via text. It was not long after that I fell into Rick’s arms.

Jane says Rick was my rebound. She says he targeted me because I was vulnerable and needed someone to heal my emotional wound. I’m no psychotherapist, but it makes sense. Losing Ivan - or rather, losing my hopes and dreams of a relationship with someone like Ivan - cut me to the bone.

It’s why I’m being so careful with Max.

Yes, he’s acting like he wants me, but so did Ivan. Until I lost my shine.

I found out after we split that he met someone else within a month. By the end of month two, they were engaged, and a year later they were married with a baby.

It’s hard not to look at myself and ask, why not me? Why wasn’t I enough?

I still ask myself these questions when I’m feeling low, even though it’s been several years.

The car pulls up outside my apartment block and I turn to Max, but he’s already out of the car and opening my door. He takes my hand, murmurs something to Artem, and then escorts me inside the building.

From the way he frowns when he notices the door is propped open with a brick and there’s an ‘out of order’ sign on the elevator, he isn’t impressed by my residence. Well, neither am I. Sadly, I don’t earn a fortune, and rents in this city are sky-high because there are too few rentals.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to walk me to my door,” I tell him. My energy levels have dropped massively in the last thirty minutes and I’m ready for bed.

He doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he curls his arm around my waist and walks with me up the five flights of stairs to my floor.

It takes a minute to dig my key out from my bag and then I let us both in. I drop my stuff on the counter and kick my shoes off gratefully. Max pushes the door shut behind me and frowns again.

“Your lock isn’t secure, Natalya.” He’s right, but what can I do? I’ve been wedging a chair under the handle for a while now. I figure it will keep out all but the most determined intruders.

“Did you leave your balcony door open?” He points to the sliding door on the far side of my living room and I frown in confusion. Did I? Honestly, I can’t remember. I feel like I wouldn’t have left it open and unlocked, but who knows? My head is so full these days, it wouldn’t be a shock if I had forgotten to lock it.

“Not sure, maybe?” He immediately goes over to check the small balcony while I sink into my sofa. I made the mistake of eating dessert and the sugar overload is exacerbating my exhaustion.

I really need to sleep but until Max goes, I can’t.

He prowls around my apartment like a panther. Graceful and dangerous. I pity any intruder who made the mistake of hiding in my closet, which provokes a snort of laughter. But I soon sober up when he reappears with a furious look on his face.

“I’m assuming you didn’t leave your bedroom like this?” he says, gesturing at the half-open door that leads to my small bedroom.

“I probably should have mentioned how untidy I am!” He must be referring to the laundry dumped on the bed and my shoe collection lined up along the wall, but I reluctantly haul my ass up off the sofa to check out what’s got him all riled up.

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