Page 13 of Fatal Bonds

“I’m sorry. If I promise not to ask any more questions, will you stay?”

Fuck.This woman is going to undo me completely.

6

LINDSEY

The sound of the basement steps groaning under someone’s weight startles me from my sleep, and I jolt upright, my heart pounding in my throat.

“Did I wake you?” Maks pauses halfway down, looking ridiculously attractive wearing black slacks and a white button-down that’s open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves. His eyebrows raise in surprise as he combs his thick head of hair back from his face—a gesture I’ve noticed he does a lot because his soft curls refuse to stay in place.

“No—I mean, yes, but it’s fine,” I say, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. “I didn’t sleep much that first night, so I kind of passed out after you left last night.” The extra blankets and pillow he gave me helped a massive amount, and despite the dank chill of my prison, I actually slept like a rock. But without natural light, I feel like my internal clock has been completely thrown off. “What time is it?”

“Just after eleven. I thought you’d be up and hungry by now, but I have a surprise for you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I perk up. “A surprise?”

Maks’s lips curl into a smirk, and he unlocks the door to my cell. “It comes with a condition.”

“Okay?” I turn, setting my feet on the floor to stand.

“You won’t try running.”

My stomach flip-flops nervously, and I glance toward the stairs.What kind of surprise would make me want to run?

“I need your word, Lindsey.”

My eyes snap back to Maks’s, and I swallow hard. “I won’t run.”

“Good. Then put your shoes on.”

I do as he says, collecting them off the ground where I kicked them off sometime yesterday and promptly forgot about them. The suede is stiff with cold as I slide my feet inside them, and as I straighten, heat floods my core as I catch Maks openly admiring the view I just gave him. It’s funny—I wore this exact outfit with him in mind, hoping I might entice him, but that feels like a lifetime ago now, and goosebumps ripple across my flesh at the desire in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to touch me since he took me prisoner, but I can see the hunger there. I don’t know what to make of it. My body’s response to him makes even less sense considering I should be downright terrified of him, but what I feel is closer to butterflies in my stomach than fear.

“Follow me,” he says, turning to head back toward the stairs he just came down.

“I—but—” I freeze, glancing back at the cot and my pile of blankets that now feel like my safety net.

“Would you rather stay down here?” he asks mildly.

“No!” I say quickly, but I do rush back to grab the top blanket and wrap it around my shoulders before racing to catch up.

Maks’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything as he tromps up the stairs, his heavy steps a familiar sound. In comparison, my heels click softly against the wood, and my heart beats faster as I near the top of the steps. I’ve imagined what this would feel like at least a hundred times since getting locked in that basement, but nothing quite compares to the thrill that rushes through me as I reach the main floor of the house. It’s bright enough outside that I have to squint after days without proper light, and I slowly take in my surroundings as my eyes adjust.

My flight instincts awaken as soon as I see the front door. Heart lodging itself in my throat, I consider the odds of success if I were to make a break for it, and for a moment, I wonder if Maks told me to put on my shoes so I would have a harder time getting away. But I promised I wouldn’t run, and if I do and fail, I’m confident that would obliterate whatever trust I’ve managed to build up to now. Fighting every natural instinct I possess, I clench my fists and force myself to turn and follow Maks. My breath catches as I find him watching me, his sharp blue eyes perceptive as he plucks the thoughts right out of my head.He knows I thought about running.

“The door is locked from the outside,” he says, his tone low and shockingly gentle.

My heart sinks like a stone, and tears sting the back of my eyes as I do my best to swallow down the emotion. But it’s caught in my throat, so all I can do is nod.

“Come on. I made breakfast.” He gestures to the dining area, where he’s set the table for two.

The house looks fresh out of the twenties, with a deco-style cut-glass chandelier hanging over the antique darkwood table. Off to the side, the pistachio-colored cabinets and checkered floor follow the trend, making the space feel a little cluttered but warm and homey. The quaint, old-timey decor combined with the intimacy of sharing a meal together feels strangely sweet in contrast to the reality of my situation, and when Maks pulls out a chair for me, I pause and compose myself.

“Thanks.” I settle into the chair and watch with mild disbelief as he goes into the kitchen and pulls a stack of pancakes from the oven. “Do you cook for people often?” I ask as he sets the plate between us and sinks into the chair across from me.

“On occasion—but only for my niece.”

I glance down at the thick stack of flapjacks and something falls into place in my mind. “She likes breakfast food.”

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