Page 15 of Doctored Vows

“I’m also going to the airport, so it’s no bother.”

“We’re going to the airport?” I can’t see the driver’s brows since they’re hidden behind floppy, unkempt hair, but from the highness of his tone, I imagine they’re cocked.

Maksim’s glare is hot enough to melt ice when he returns the driver’s watch. “Yes, we are.”

The driver’s gulp is audible before he signals to pull onto the freeway.

Although hostility is rife, I sink low into my chair before attempting to strike up a conversation. “Are you going home?” I ask at the same time Maksim queries, “Was the rest of your luggage pre-delivered to the airport?”

“Oh… No. This is all I need.” I kick my carry-on he placed on the floor between us. “I’m only going away for the weekend, so I don’t need much.”

Maksim tugs down the sleeves of his shirt, covering most of the Band-Aids, before asking, “To Trudny Peninsula, right?”

I startle, dumbstruck he eavesdropped on my conversation with Zoya more than I realized. “Yes. I’m traveling with a friend. It is her little sister’s hen party.” When he replies with a simple nod, I ask, “Have you been to the Trudny Peninsula District before?”

He jerks up his chin. “A handful of times.”

“Any recommendations?”

He wets his lips before aligning his eyes with mine. “For?”

“Places to eat. Visit. I don’t have a lot of funds, but I’ve heard you don’t need it at Nakhodka.”

When his jaw tightens, I wonder if I said something wrong. Not everyone is a fan of penny-pinchers, but my budget consciousness has never caused such a severe reaction before.

Maksim takes our conversation in a direction I never anticipated. “What happened to the big payout you were recently offered?”

I swallow harshly, my throat drier than a desert.

How does everyone know about the promotion I was offered, but fail to keep abreast of it?

And I wouldn’t exactly call it a big payout. If I had accepted the position, once income tax gobbled up a chunk of it, I would have only had enough to pay off one of my credit cards. My tuition and Grandfather’s medication would have had to wait.

Although I don’t owe Maksim an explanation, I give him one. I’d still be working in the ER if he hadn’t funded the new wing at Myasnikov Private. “I turned down the placement.”

He looks shocked, and his bewilderment jumps onto my face when he says, “So how can you afford to live in the Chrysler building not even half a mile from the hospital?”

The glitziness of his tone is highly inaccurate. Apartments in my building rent in the high six figures a month, but mine is the equivalent of a servant’s quarters. It is cramped, dingy, and damp. I often wonder if the moldy conditions are aggravating my grandfather’s emphysema.

But despite this, it would still be outside my means if my grandparents didn’t have a rent control agreement in place.

Housing in Myasnikov skyrocketed three years, pricing most people out of the built-up areas. Even dumps on the outskirts of town fetch top dollar.

“You do live there, right?”

“Yes,” I reply, talking through the burn of a dry throat. “But it isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.”

With the tension turning awkward too fast for me to save, I’ve never been more grateful for the slow flow of traffic that always impedes the departure lanes of a local airport terminal.

After sliding to my half of the cab, I snatch up my bag, throw open my door with so much urgency the driver has no choice but to stop, and then hightail it out.

“Thank you so much for the ride.”

I slam the door shut before Maksim can vocalize a reply, then suck in a relieved breath like I dodged a bullet I didn’t realize was targeting me until now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Outside departure gate 27, I crash into Zoya so viciously that I wind myself.

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