Page 33 of Crowned

Lilia

For a second my brain refuses to believe I’ve heard anyone speaking English with a Russian accent. I’m only aware of a man holding on to me so I can’t escape. His large hand grips me like a manacle and my gaze travels over his expensive watch, up the arm of his suit jacket, and into a tanned face with dark, slightly curly hair.

With a jolt, I recognize him. Maxim Vavilov, the son of Artem Vavilov, one of my father’s closest friends. He’s smiling at me, confused but pleased.

I tear my wrist from his grip and rub it as if he’s burned me. I have to get out of here. I have torun. If it gets out among the Bratva that I’ve been seen in Prague, I’m screwed. I’m going to have to uproot my life all over again.

The warm smile dims on Maxim’s face, and I feel a jolt as I realize he’s not chasing me. This is a coincidence, and maybe I can persuade him to keep his mouth shut.

I plaster a smile on my face and make my tone as friendly as possible. “Sorry, I just tripped over in the kitchen and it gave me a fright. Maxim. How wonderful to see you. What brings you to Prague?”

He relaxes once more and spreads his hands with a smile. “Work. Always work.”

I suppose his father must have some contacts in this city. I shudder as I remember the Bratva are everywhere.

“I saw your father last summer. He’s been missing you since you left America.”

I let some sadness creep into my tone. “It’s been difficult for me since Ivan passed. I’m not ready to be at home yet. Too many bad memories.”

“Of course. But a waitress, Lilia? You’re too good for this.”

Irritation crackles up my spine. He’s a criminal and he thinks people like us are too good to wait tables? This is honest work, and I’m proud of it. “I like it here. Now, what can I get you?”

I take his order to the kitchen, my mind racing, trying to come up with a plan. Maxim stares at me the whole time he eats, his eyes tracking me to and fro across the dining room.

When my shift finishes, he’s waiting for me outside.

“Lilia, there you are. Have dinner with me tonight.”

I’m bundled up tightly in my coat to hide my belly. My bruised knee is aching. “I really can’t, I’m sorry. But could I ask a favor? Please don’t tell my father or your father that you’ve seen me. Dad’s getting impatient with me, but I still need more time before I go home.”

“All right, but will you make it worth my while?” Suddenly, Maxim’s smile is filled with innuendo.

The imploring expression drops from my face. I’m so sick of men. All they do is demand, manipulate, take. I turn away. “Fuck you, Maxim. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

A hurt expression flashes over his face and he hurries to catch up with me. “I didn’t mean that. I meant dinner. I always liked you, Lilia, and now that Ivan’s dead, I thought we might have more to talk about.”

What a lovely way to talk to a widow. “I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to date anyone right now.”

“I want to ask your father for your hand,” he blurts out.

My eyes widen. Another arranged marriage. I wonder how fast he’d run if I lifted my shirt and showed him my pregnant belly.

If I leave now, Maxim is going to pick up the phone this very night and my presence here will be blown wide open. I have an apartment here. I have a job. I have alife. This isn’t fair.

All I can think to do is buy a little time, and I smile at Maxim. “I had no idea you felt that way about me. I’m flattered, though I have to warn you I’m going to take a lot of courting. It’s not up to my father who I marry next. It’s up to me.”

His mouth hooks in a smile. “I’m a patient man.”

Trying not to reveal how reluctant I am to ever lay eyes on him again, I tell him, “There’s a bistro just off Wencelas Square called Nechci. Meet me there at eight.”

At home, I pace up and down. Maybe I should just run, but my eyes land on the yellow crib in the corner, so bright and hopeful and ready to shelter my baby. My heart aches at the thought of leaving this precious refuge behind.

Maxim kisses my cheek when I arrive at the restaurant at eight, and I have to hold myself carefully away from him so that his arm doesn’t brush my pregnant belly.

“Wine?”

“No, thanks. Just water for me.”

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