Page 27 of Fatal Bonds

His head snaps in my direction, the snarl still contorting his features. My heart skips a beat and breaks into a sprint as I see for the first time a rage in him that could so easily snuff out a man’s life. He’s seething, crazed with hatred, and if I were ever going to be scared of him, it would be now.

“Maks,” I breathe, taking an involuntary step back.

Then his eyes shift to something behind me, and he releases Emiliano, who collapses to the floor in a heap. “Let’s go.” His fingers close gently around my wrist, and he jerks me toward the door without warning.

Yelping, I stumble before regaining my footing, and my eyes land on the two burly security guards filling the doorway as they stand frozen, assessing the situation. Before they have time to connect the dots, Maks is shoving past them, dragging me along at a speed I can barely keep up with in my pencil skirt and pointed-toe pumps.

“What the hell was that?” I demand as he hauls me down the hall to the elevator bank and pounds the call button with his fist.

Heat radiates from him as he gives the elevator doors a death stare, his hand still firmly wrapped around my wrist.

“Maks,” I press and glance over my shoulder at the security guards now approaching us down the hall. “Maks, they’re coming.”

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, and Maks pulls me inside, cramming his finger on the button to close the doors behind us. I catch sight of two pairs of intense eyes as the guards scramble to get on, but the doors shut, and a sense of weightlessness rushes through me as we start to descend. Heavy gasps fill the enclosed space as Maks and I both catch our breath, and that familiar electrical current races across my skin as he towers over me, his face dark with anger.

I’m too nervous to speak, too stunned to process what just almost happened to me, and I’m not sure what to make of my situation anymore. Maks just saved me—again. The man he claimed was bad, who the world would be better off without, just tried to force himself on me. He definitely used his position of power to try taking advantage of me, and I get the distinct feeling I’m not the only girl he’s ever done that to. Bile rises in my throat as I think about what might happen if no one does something about it—who might suffer if no one stops him.

After seeing the truth about what Emiliano Costanzo is capable of, I’m less inclined to get in Maks’s way. But I’m still curious about why he wants Costanzo dead so vehemently. If there was any doubt in my mind before, after watching him in that office just now, I’m certain this is personal for Maks.But how?

Now is not the time to ask. I can see it in the tense line of his shoulders and feel it in the tremors that rack his body, vibrating into my wrist. I don’t think he even realizes he’s still holding it, but before I can point it out, the elevator shifts to a stop, and the doors open into the lobby once more.

My heels rap sharply against the floor, echoing around the vaulted space, and we catch several odd glances as I scramble to keep up with Maks on our way to the revolving door that will take us out of the building. The Escalade is already waiting for us there, and I slip across the soft leather bench of the back seat to find Maks’s man Liam waiting in the passenger seat up front. As soon as the door closes behind us, the driver is pulling away from the curb, and I catch a last glance of Costanzo’s security reaching the sidewalk and scanning the street before we round the corner. Only then do I release my breath and collapse back against the seat.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, a breathless laugh rushing from me. I don’t even know why I’m laughing. Nothing about this situation is funny. But the fact that Maks just strangled a man in his office and, somehow, we got away feels completely outside of my reality. Then again, this whole situation does. I’m in so far over my head, I don’t even know which direction is up anymore. All this time, I assumed the bad guy would be the man talking about cold-blooded murder. As it turns out, there’s more gray area than I ever could have accounted for.

Maks doesn’t say a word the entire ride home, though he throws me several sidelong glances that make my pulse flutter and my stomach knot. I get the distinct feeling that he’s mad at me, but I honestly don’t know what I should have done differently in that situation. I went searching for the daytimer, like he asked. I pretended to be a college student interviewing for an internship, exactly like we practiced. Sure, I panicked when I realized Costanzo was turning the interview into a proposition.But Maks can’t blame me for that, right?I mean, he’s the one who barged in and blew our cover. Not that I’m complaining.

By the time we reach his building, we’ve both caught our breath, and his men leave us to ride the elevator up alone once again. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Maks in the car with others around, but now that we’re riding back up to his place, the question is burning a hole inside of me. I can’t hold it back any longer.

“What was that back there?” I ask, watching his face closely.

He combs his dark hair back from his face, revealing the touch of gray at his temples, and glances at me. “What was what?”

“No, no. You don’t get to pretend you’re all innocent now. You practically strangled Costanzo right there in his office.”

“He touched you,” Maks says flatly.

“So?You’vetouched me,” I point out.

Maks’s jaw works furiously, his palms clenching, and he turns to face me. “That’s not the same.”

The intensity in his blue eyes steals my breath away as he holds me captive with it, and I swallow painfully around my heart that’s suddenly lodged in my throat.

“Tell me it’s not the same, Lindsey,” he commands, his voice haunted, and the urgency of it makes me jolt.

But he’s right. The way Maks has treated me is nothing like Costanzo. “It’s not the same,” I promise. “But I deserve to know the truth. If I’m going to be a part of this, I need to know why you want him dead. I think I’ve earned that much.”

The silence that follows is only broken by the ding of the elevator doors before they open onto Maks’s penthouse. For a second, it’s a stand-off as I wait for him to answer. Finally, he releases a heavy breath.

“You’re right.” Gesturing for me to lead the way, Maks follows me out of the elevator.

Rather than heading to the bedroom, I enter the living room and settle onto the pristine cream-colored chenille couch that faces his opulent wall of windows. The couch’s velvety fabric and plush cushions invite me in, and I bite back a moan of appreciation as I get comfortable. Kicking off my heels and curling my legs up underneath me, I prop my elbow on the back of the couch, my cheek on my palm, and I face Maks as he sits beside me.

He keeps his feet firmly planted on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees as he interlocks his fingers and stares at his palms rather than looking at me. Dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him outside the bedroom, he’s wearing a hunter-green henley, dark-gray designer joggers, and white athletic shoes like he was prepared for a physical altercation before we even left today. I should have realized something was up from the start, but I can’t bring myself to be mad at him when he looks like a modern-day Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You know Emiliano Costanzo,” I venture when Maks doesn’t seem willing to start on his own. “I mean, you know him well, don’t you?”

My stomach sinks as Maks nods, brushing the pad of his thumb across the heel of his palm. “He was a friend of my parents. I was raised to trust no one, but I never thought twice about him.”

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