Page 63 of Twisted Vows

Redford’s eyes flick to me, his smile growing even wider. “And you must be the lovely Mrs. Volkov.”

“Ari,” I correct, offering my hand. His grip is firm but unremarkable, his gaze lingering just long enough to feel calculated.

“Maxsim speaks highly of you,” he says, releasing my hand.

“Does he?” I shoot Maxsim a sidelong glance. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Redford laughs, though it sounds more like a cough. “Well, you know how these men are. Hard to get a compliment out of them.”

“Not always,” I reply lightly. “You just have to know how to handle them.”

The senator chuckles again, but I catch the flicker of unease in his eyes. Good.

Maxsim’s hand returns to my back, his touch a silent but firm reminder to behave. “Senator,” he says, his tone as smooth as silk, “I think it’s time we discussed the matter we spoke of earlier. Shall we?”

Redford hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Of course.”

The two of them step aside, their voices dropping to a low murmur. I watch them for a moment, my curiosity simmering just beneath the surface, before turning back to the crowd.

And that’s when my phone buzzes.

I slip it out of my clutch, half-expecting a text from Franco or Gianna. But what I see makes my breath catch.Maxsim is hiding something from you. Are you sure you can trust him?

My pulse quickens, and for a moment, the room tilts. The words burn into my mind, sharp and deliberate. Anonymous, of course. Cowardly and calculated.

I glance toward Maxsim. He’s speaking to Redford, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. A thousand questions race through my mind. Who sent this? What do they know? And most importantly—how much is Maxsim keeping from me?

The phone buzzes again, jolting me back to the present. This time, it’s a simple warning:Careful who you trust.

I lock the screen, shoving the phone back into my clutch. My chest tightens, and I take a steadying breath, forcing a smile onto my face as I weave through the crowd.

The cool night air greets me as I step out onto the terrace. The city lights stretch out in the distance, their glow muted by a thin layer of fog. I lean against the railing, my fingers curling around the cold metal, and try to make sense of the message.

Maxsim joins me a moment later. “You disappeared,” he says, his voice low.

“Just needed some air,” I reply, forcing my tone to stay light.

His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t press. “We can go if you’re ready.”

“Let’s.”

We make our way back through the crowd, Maxsim’s hand resting on my back as we move toward the exit. The SUV is waiting at the curb, Pasha behind the wheel.

Maxsim’s phone buzzes as I slide in, and he immediately pulls it out, his eyes scanning the screen with a sharpness that sets my nerves on edge.

The silence in the car is deafening. My fingers curl around my clutch, the words from the text seared into my thoughts.Maxsim is hiding something from you.

I glance at him, his expression calm but distant. For a moment, I consider confronting him. But the words catch in my throat, and I turn my gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white.

The tension between us feels heavier than ever, and I can’t shake the feeling that whoever sent that message knows exactly how to exploit it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Maxsim

The SUV hums softly as it glides through the city streets, the darkened windows shielding us from prying eyes. Ari sits beside me, her gaze distant as she stares at the passing blur of lights.

She hasn’t said much since the fundraiser, but I can feel the weight of her thoughts. It’s in the way her fingers tap against her clutch, the slight tension in her posture.

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