Page 49 of Fatal Bonds

21

MAKS

“Some dinner?” Lenka steps into my office, a tumbler of chilled vodka and a plate in hand, her expression carefully schooled into a look that’s grown all too familiar over the past week since the wedding. She hasn’t asked what happened between me and Lindsey—why Lindsey’s wearing my mother’s wedding ring while we seem more distant than the day I first brought her here. But I can tell it’s a constant question in Lenka’s mind.

“Thank you,” I say, making room on my desk for her to set the plate down.

“You’ve been taking your meals in your office a lot lately,” she observes mildly.

I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Work’s been keeping my hands full.”

She’s never made observations about my schedule before, and I know she’s trying to make sense of the tension in the house without openly prying.

“Of course,” Lenka agrees, straightening beside me. “I just thought—well, never mind. It’s not my place.” She turns to go, taking several quick strides across the room.

“Lenka.”

Pausing, she turns to face me, her kind face anxious.

“You don’t get to say something like that and then walk away. What were you going to say?” Lenka’s worked for me for a long time. She was invaluable to me during Kira’s early years, when I had no clue what I was doing as a ward and she took on more of a nanny role, even though I hired Lenka strictly to help with the cooking. Because of that, she feels more like family to me, so I want to know if something’s troubling her.

Lenka interlaces her fingers in front of herself to stop fussing with her apron. “It’s just that you’ve seemed happier with Miss Payne around, so when she came in wearing that ring—well, I thought it would be a good thing. But since then, it seems like all you do is work. I guess I just hoped you’d be?—”

Her words taper off, and color infuses her cheeks as I hold her gaze.

“Well, enjoying the company of your new bride,” she rushes on.

Clearing my throat, I take a sip of the chilled vodka she brought me. “You’re right. That’s not your place.”

Lenka’s blush intensifies, and she gives a jerky nod before turning to leave.

“But I appreciate your concern,” I add as she reaches the doorway. “If Lindsey wants my company, she knows where to find me.”

“Of course.” Slipping into the hall, Lenka closes the door behind her.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I drop my head back against the headrest of my office chair. I know Lenka only wants what’s best for me. She’s been a good, loyal member of my staff for all the years I’ve known her, and she likes Lindsey. It isn’t hard to see—or to know why. But since her last escape, something’s changed between us. I can feel Lindsey slipping away. I should be glad about it. Putting distance between us is the best way to keep her safe, but I’m more conflicted than ever about letting her go. I offered to send her to New York because I don’t want to put her in danger—and that’s still true. But I don’t like the way we’ve left things.

After my snapping point, she’s been distinctly more distant, and I know it’s my fault. Punishing her the way I did was a turning point in our relationship—and not in a good way. Since then, Lindsey has seemed more distracted than usual, more inclined to avoid me and spent time alone. Where before, she seemed to crave my presence, even just as a break from the monotony of being trapped here. But now the conversations we have feel closed off, stiff, and uncomfortable. Her defenses are up, and this time, I don’t feel right trying to bring them back down. I took things too far with her, and if she doesn’t want to be around me, I don’t want to force my presence on her. But I can’t just let her walk out of the house, either, not when Lucian is keeping a close eye on her. I know he is. He’s stationed one of his men to watch my building—which, as much as it rankles, I know it’s not unreasonable, considering he has as much skin in the game as I do.

As I eat my dinner, I turn my attention back to my computer to focus on my work so I can stop thinking about the beautiful blonde, most likely holed up in the master bedroom, working through dinner to avoid one another, just like I am.

When my phone dings, I pick it up to find a new notification. It’s my way of staying connected without giving Lindsey unsupervised access to the internet, and again, I have to actively push her from my mind as I open the email from the charity gala that Lucian and I have narrowed down as our best opportunity to take out Emiliano. Skimming the contents of the letter, I frown, then switch to my phone app and dial Lucian.

“You’re not supposed to be calling me,” he states, his tone as cool and collected as always.

“Were you able to get the tickets you need?”

“Of course.” Silence stretches across the line as he reads into my question. “You couldn’t?”

“I’ll deal with it. As long as you and your men will be in place, that’s what matters.”

“We’re ready to go. Send word when your issues are resolved.”

Ending the call, I slap my phone against my palm as I consider the letter’s wording:Due to the recent contention between you and one of our most generous benefactors, we are unable to authorize your attendance this year. We apologize for any inconvenience and thank you for your kind contribution.

No doubt, I’m being barred from the event because of what happened in Emiliano’s office. He’s one of the key contributors to the charity event we picked, and I don’t doubt he personally requested that I be removed from the guest list after what happened at his office. It made waves when I stepped in to stop him from touching Lindsey. Though only she and I know the truth behind why I got overly physical with Emiliano that day. High profile men like us don’t get to lose our tempers without making the news. When we hash things out, it’s supposed to be behind closed doors—and when we fight, that’s supposed to happen in the shadows, not out in public, where our masks of civility are firmly in place. My actions were bound to come back and bite me eventually. I just hadn’t imagined they would be watching the guest list that closely.

“Blyat.”

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