Page 85 of Hunter

I hesitated, eyeing the blindfold warily.

“Trust me,” Maxim murmured, his voice softening as he took my hand in his. He held the blindfold out again, his gaze imploring.

And I did. I let him slip it over my eyes.

Forty minutes in a car to the airport. Eight hours on a plane. Two hours in another car to our hotel. One final hour in yet another car.

And now, here I am, staring dumbfounded, heart pounding, with a huge grin spreading across my face. The gorgeous city of Paris sparkles below, a sea of golden lights stretching to the horizon. I’m on top of the Eiffel Tower, wrapped in the crisp night air, wearing a stunning, dark blue, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with a daring high slit Maxim picked out just for this occasion. Every shimmer of the dress catches the light, a perfect reflection of how I feel inside.

I clutch a glass of my favorite sweet red wine, unable to stop the rush of emotions flooding through me. Right now, I feel like the happiest, luckiest woman in the world.

At first, I didn’t believe him when he told me he rented out the Eiffel Tower just for us. “That’s not possible,” I’d said, laughing at the absurdity.

Maxim’s response? A confident smirk and, “Nothing is impossible for me, malyshka.”

Even now, his words echo in my mind, sending a thrill through me. My fingers trail absently to the necklace around my neck. The delicate chain holds a tiny charm—a small key he’d given me earlier tonight. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger, letting the weight of it ground me. This night has been nothing short of magical: soft smiles, laughter, lingeringkisses, whispered confessions under the full moon. We danced under the stars with no music but the rhythm of our hearts, our only witnesses the shimmering lights of the city below.

Maxim’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, pulling me back from my thoughts. His touch is warm and steady, grounding me in the present. His piercing eyes search mine, his expression questioning.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

I nod quickly, but he doesn’t buy it.

“Are you sure?” he presses, his voice laced with concern.

Another nod.

He doesn’t move, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. Then, his eyes drop to where my hand still toys with the necklace, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Without a word, he steps out of the car and walks to my side. The door opens, and he offers me his hand.

“Let’s go,” he says simply, his tone unreadable but firm.

I take his hand, letting him help me out of the car. The air feels heavier now, charged with something I can’t quite place.

“Where are we going?” I ask, unable to mask the nervous edge in my voice.

“To see a man about getting some answers.” His grip on my hand tightens slightly, anchoring me to him.

Answers? My stomach churns uneasily.

I hesitate, pulling my hand away. “Wait.”

He stops immediately, turning back to me. His expression shifts, and patience and understanding soften the sharp edges of his features.

“Why do I need to be there?” I ask, my voice quieter now. I already have an idea, and the thought twists my stomach into knots. Maxim has told me things before—things I’ve struggled to process about how he gets information. I’m not sure I can stomach seeing it firsthand.

His lips curl into a wicked smile, one that sends a shiver down my spine. “Because you know the person.”

I blink, his words slicing through my hesitation like a blade. “What?”

He doesn’t elaborate; he just stands there with that infuriatingly smug look on his face. My curiosity flares, battling against the unease.

“If it becomes too much, you can leave the room,” he adds, his voice softer now, as if reading my thoughts. “But I need you there, malyshka.”

I swallow hard, torn between trepidation and the burning desire to know who this mystery person is.

After a moment, I nod, sliding my hand back into his. “Let’s go, then.”

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