Page 120 of Doctored Vows

My heart whacks my rib cage when our veer through the kitchen has me stumbling onto a profile that’s had my grief in a constant state of despair the past six hours. I’ve struggled to move past my sadness since Yulia’s funeral, so I have no idea how Mr. Petrovitch arrived for his shift today.

Guilt crashes down on me when I remember the tiny little cherub nestled on his wife’s chest when he took the blame for their daughter’s death. Just like me after my mother was murdered, he has to work.

You can’t choose not to when you’ve already spent the money that has yet to come in.

Lev never shifts his head my way, but I know he feels my watch because the heaviness weighing down his shoulders shifts as much as mine does when the frantic shouts of the waitress for help silence at the same time Ivan’s chest stills.

One of the men responsible for the murder of his daughter is dead, and he is as relieved as I am.

After staring up at the ceiling long enough for my heart to recommence beating, he pulls a bowl of potato and leek soup off the serving counter. “Don’t serve that,” he instructs a sous chef before he moves a soup pot off the cooktop and pours it down the sink. “I think some of its ingredients curdled. I’ll make a new batch.”

As he scrubs the pot to ensure not a single residue of the poison he used to avenge his daughter’s murder remains in the pot, Maksim places a suitcase I didn’t realize he was holding until now onto the stainless steel counter between Mr. Petrovitch and us before he ushers me outside.

I rear up to protect Maksim as ruefully as he will forever protect me when our exit is eyeballed by the second half of the duo investigating the wrong people. Lara is standing next to an unmarked police cruiser, scanning notes in the notepad she is rarely without.

When she notices she has caught my watch, she stores her notepad away before straying her eyes to Maksim. The interrogation I am anticipating doesn’t happen. She accepts Maksim’s chin dip as if he spoke a thousand words before she calls in a possible officer in need of assistance on her radio.

Her words aren’t hurried, and neither are her steps when she approaches the restaurant where one of her colleagues lies slayed.

“She knew you weren’t lying about being drugged with a benzodiazepine,” Maksim murmurs as he signals for Ano to pull up at the curb in front of us, “because your symptoms mimicked hers to a T.” As he assists me into the back seat of his ride, he says, “She got too close, and Ivan wouldn’t let anyone stand between him and his share of the proceeds.”

We make it halfway home before my bewilderment lifts enough for me to speak. I don’t take our conversation in the direction you’d anticipate for someone who took the Hippocratic oath. “How much of a tip did you leave the chef?”

Maksim smiles like he’s as obsessed with my nosiness as he is with my body before he replies, “Enough that he’ll never have to work another day in his life if he doesn’t want to.” When I rest my head on his shoulder, needing his closeness, he tugs me over until I sit side-straddled on his lap. “It won’t ease their pain, but it will give them time to grieve.”

When he lifts my head and our eyes lock, I fall in love all over again. He isn’t solely offering the Petrovitches a lifetime to grieve. He is giving me the same crutch, and although there will be times when I will believe I’ll need more than a lifetime to get over my losses, the burden will never feel as heavy with Maksim carrying a majority of the load.

When I say that to Maksim, he twists his lips. “You’d have to hand over some of the load first, Doc. I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet.”

“I am. I have no issues accepting help.” He almost calls me a liar, but I continue talking before he can. “I’m even considering taking you up on your offer. There are just a few matters I need to take care of first.”

He waves his hand through the air, giving me the floor. I’m reasonably sure he did the same when trying to convince me to marry him, but the memory is still a little cloudy.

“I have to finish my studies. I didn’t come this far to give up now.”

“Not an issue,” he replies without pause for thought.

I doubt his response to my subsequent demand will be as carefree.

“I want to finish them at Myasnikov Private.” His growl sets me on edge and dampens my panties, but we will keep that between us. “The patients there deserve better.” Since he can’t deny my claim, he remains tight-lipped. “It is also a ten-minute walk from our apartment, and since your security team hacked into the surveillance system the day we met, it will almost be the same as having me at your side twenty-four-seven. You can spy on me as often as your heart desires.”

He maintains his quiet front, announcing what I’ve always known.

He’s been watching me from day one.

Aware my demands are not yet over, Maksim says, “And?”

“And?” I pause to build the suspense, boiling the tension that will never evaporate between us. “You need to leave my alarm clocks alone. I set them for a reason.”

He laughs, but instead of remaining quiet like he did when he couldn’t deny his security team hacked Myasnikov Private’s servers, he says, “I learned from the best.”

It takes several long brain-frying seconds for me to unravel his riddle, and when I do, my jaw drops.

My grandmother greeted him like she knew him because she did.

They’d met previously.

When I stare at Maksim, demanding an answer, he smirks before revealing, “She snuck to your bedside to turn off your alarm clock the night we met. I didn’t think she could see me in the shadows, but she told me she’d kill me if I hurt you. I believed her enough to play nice.”

---