Page 46 of Maxim

I am, but not to her. Natalya has nothing to worry about. I will never hurt a hair on her head.

“OK, makes sense,” I admit, begrudgingly.

“Thought you might think that,” he says in a smug tone. “You better explain your reasoning to her before she runs away and never talks to you again. Although, it might be better for her if she does.”

“Sasha, was there a reason why you called? Or did you just feel like insulting me?” Any more shit from him and he’s on cleanup duty next time we torture someone for information.

“Yeah. We got the results back from the lab. The van was clean inside but my guys pulled a print off the exterior. It matches a guy called Stefan Lublik. He’s got a record. Mostly petty stuff, but he’s a known associate of Oskar Tallin, who runs a gang out of Fier.

“Small fry then.” Why would some low-life career criminal be involved in a hit on my operation? It makes no sense.

“Yes, but I’ve done some digging and it looks like this gang is now affiliated with Uriov’s enterprise.

That sounds ominous. “If Uriov is pulling some of the smaller gangs into his sphere, he must be looking to expand his operation.”

“It’s looking that way,” Sasha agrees.

“See if you can find a location for this Stefan guy, so we can pick him up and ask him some questions.”

I end the call just as Natalya appears, wearing the dress she wore last night. I smirk when I remember I still have her panties in my jacket pocket. Her hair is damp and tangled. I make a mental note to purchase some supplies for her, so she has everything she needs when she stays here.

“I’ll get going now,” she says, picking up her clutch and gripping it tightly. Her shoes are tucked away in the hallway, but I can see her scanning the floor for them.

“Sit down, malyshka. Let me cook you some breakfast.” I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her here for a bit longer. Mostly for my own selfish reasons. Besides, it’s Saturday so she needs to relax.

Natalya ignores me and wanders into the hall looking for her shoes. Her phone pings several times but she doesn’t check it. No doubt it’s her friends making sure she’s OK.

“Malyshka!” She freezes like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Goddamn it. Sasha is right. My malyshka is still scarred from that fucking asshole. If I see him again I will end him for what he’s done to her.

Forcing the rage down because the last thing I need is to frighten her some more, I exhale and relax my shoulders.

“Baby, I will take you home once you’ve eaten something and I’ve had a shower.”

She looks up cautiously. “You will?”

Taking the opportunity to move closer, I smile. “Yes, of course I will. That’s all I meant earlier. What kind of asshole would I be if I let you leave without feeding you, eh?”

She tenses a little when I slip my arm around her waist, but I don’t miss the way she drinks in my bare chest. Despite how skittish she is, I know she wants me. Almost as much as I want her.

Chapter thirty-three

Nat

The way Max is handling me with kid gloves makes me feel a little stupid. Perhaps I overreacted when he said I couldn’t leave. OK… so I know I did.

I can’t help it. My wiring is all messed up after Rick, and I over-analyze everything, looking for meanings where there are none. Just in case I miss a tiny red flag that proves Max is another abuser.

So far, he’s done nothing but treat me with respect. He rescued me from a difficult situation a year ago and has continued to be there for me. And let’s not forget the orgasms.

My vagina certainly hasn’t. She’s still in a sex coma.

Not that it stops me from drooling when a half-naked Max sidles closer and slips his arm around my waist. He smells delicious. Man and musk, with a side of citrus and coffee. I swear to God I’m now officially a sex addict. Despite the fact my vagina is officially ruined for the foreseeable future, I can’t help but ogle him like a thirsty bitch.

And of course he notices. The asshole smirks and leads me like a little lamb over to the kitchen.

While I sit on a stool, wishing I had a comb or something to sort my hair out, Max makes us pancakes and coffee. I’m amazed at how domesticated he is. Unlike me, he can actually cook and the food he makes is edible.

I didn’t realize I was hungry until he placed a stack of pancakes in front of me and watched with a smile while I inhaled three of them in quick succession.

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