Page 39 of Doctored Vows

I’m not.

That is the only game we will ever play.

I thought he was a good match for Zoya. That means he is the opposite of what I am seeking. She likes them wild and dangerous. I usually only ever look for the safe option.

Well, until Maksim entered my life.

“I think you should go.”

As I walk to the door, disgustingly stumbling, Riccardo replies, “I’d rather stay.”

“I don’t care what you want. I asked you to leave, so leave.” I sound rude, but I don’t care. I’m unwell, and he’s acting like a dick.

After yanking open the door, I crank my neck back to Riccardo. He hasn’t budged an inch, and his threatening snarl exposes he has no intention of going anywhere.

“I wouldn’t test me. I know where every artery in your body is and which are vital.”

I assume his whitening cheeks are from the honesty in my statement, but I learn otherwise when a voice I immediately recognize rumbles over my shoulder. “She asked you to leave.” After returning my stare long enough to convince me he feels my gratitude, Maksim shifts his narrowed eyes to a brute of a man on his left. “Get him the fuck out of here.”

“I’m going,” Riccardo assures, holding his hands in the air in defeat.

The brute doesn’t listen. He grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him out of the suite fast enough that a knife similar to the one he used to slice limes earlier today falls out of the back of his jeans.

“Oh my god.”

I feel even more sick now—incredibly ill.

“Was he…? Did he come here to…?” As my stupidity steamrolls me into a blubbering, teary mess, the chaos I almost introduced into my best friend’s life smacks into me. “I brought him into her life. Despite your security officers’ warnings, I told him to come back. I-I introduced him to my best friend.”

Maksim steadies my swaying movements by gripping the tops of my arms before staring at me with stern yet worried eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head so fast that I almost vomit. “No. I thought he-he’d be a good match for Zoya. I-I tried to set them up. What if he had hurt her like… like… like… What if he’d…?”

Bile races up my esophagus between my stammered words. I try to swallow it down, but several gulps offer little relief. I’m going to be sick, and since Maksim’s grip on my arms is too firm to dislodge, it lands on his shoes.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Iswear to God, if you’re not juggling a gallon of coffee, you’re not welcome.”

I usually love Zoya’s girlie giggles, but this morning, they represent a knife being stabbed into my ears on repeat. I’m hungover, dehydrated, and having a hard time remembering a single thing that occurred after she tricked me out of our suite.

“You won, right? That wasn’t a dream.”

When my question is answered with silence, I carefully crack open my eyes, blink to lubricate them, and then move them in the direction Zoya’s voice projected from. She’s arrived with gifts, a gigantic mug of coffee, and a wholegrain muffin, but instead of seeking the praise she usually demands when she brings treats, her focus is on the far corner of the room.

I shoot up to a half-seated position too fast for my hungover head when I follow the direction of her gaze. Maksim is seated on the winged-back chair I dumped my bag on not long after checking in.

He looks tired, like his sleep schedule has been as lagging as mine the past two weeks, but he is still incredibly handsome.

“Why are you in my room?” When my hand shoots up to make sure my pounding heart remains in my chest, another crazy fact smacks into me. “And why am I naked?”

“You—”

Maksim cuts Zoya off by slicing his hand through the air. And even more shocking than that is the fact she lets him.

She sinks back like she’s happy for him to take the lead, which he does without hesitation crossing his features. “You vomited.”

“Okay,” I reply, struggling not to cringe. “And that led to me being naked how?”

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