Page 55 of Fatal Bonds

“Yes,” she murmurs.

I sense a ‘but’ lingering in the silence, and I stop tickling her arm as I shift to look down at her. Tiny cracks open across my heart, threatening to shatter when I see the sadness in her eyes. I’m not going to like whatever she says next.

“But I still think New York is my best option after Emiliano’s gone,” she says softly.

Pain like I haven’t known before slices through me, and I swallow hard as I take a moment to collect the broken pieces in my chest. She’s right, of course. But that doesn’t make the thought of letting her go any less painful, and being this close to her—feeling so intensely connected to her and then trying to imagine my life without her?—that’s just agonizing.

“I agree,” I murmur, but I can’t keep holding her like this once I do. I’ll lose my mind if I have to be close to her any longer. Disentangling our limbs, I stand and cross the room to grab a fresh pair of joggers from my dresser drawer. I pull up around my hips, then snatch a T-shirt, heading toward the bedroom door before I’ve even put it on.

“Maks?”

Lindsey’s voice sounds small and vulnerable in the gaping chasm that’s opened between us, and it makes me hesitate. Stopping with my hand on the door handle, I turn to meet her gaze. She’s sitting up now, clutching the sheets to her chest to shield her naked body.

How can she look at me like I’m the one who just drove a knife through her heart?

“I’ve got some work to do,” I choke out. “You should get some sleep.” Then I turn and leave, closing the door behind me.

24

LINDSEY

Sun filters in through the window and across my pillow, gently nudging me from my restless dreams, and as soon as I’m conscious, my pulse quickens. Today’s the day. The gala is tonight, and that means tomorrow, I’ll be on my way to New York to start a new life. Nervous anticipation rushes through my veins as a ball of sadness settles in the pit of my stomach.

Sitting up, I turn to look at Maks’s empty side of the bed. He’s slept there for the past three nights, rather than on the floor by the door, but even though I haven’t reconstructed the pillow barrier between us, he hasn’t touched me since the dangerously hot sex when he came inside me. Guilt tightens my chest when I think about it. I don’t like lying to Maks, or keeping secrets, but I let him buy a morning-after pill that I flushed down the toilet when he wasn’t looking so I wouldn’t have to tell him why what happened couldn’t cause any further damage.

Just the thought of it makes my temperature rise—the feel of him losing control inside me. I’d wanted it so badly, I’d almost begged him to do it. And when he did, for a moment, I thought we might be on the same page. But the way he reacted after made me realize he’s not going to change his mind. He doesn’t want me to stay, and when I said I still intend to go to New York, he didn’t argue.

That’s why I’m sure this is the right plan. It will be hard to let go, but in the long run, I’ll be happier if I can lead a normal life. My baby will be safer in a world that’s far from the violence and death that surrounds Maks, and maybe someday, I’ll even find a man who wants to be with me. Maks assured me that his cousin Dimitri will keep an eye on me from a distance so I’m safe, and when I figure out where I want to go from there, I can start fresh. This will be a good thing—or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Curbing my disappointment, I throw off the covers and get out of bed. Maks must be using his in-home gym, doing his daily workout. That’s become a standard practice since our impromptu wedding—Maks waking up before me and coming back to our room an hour later, covered in sweat and looking unforgivably fit and sexy. The timing couldn’t be more convenient, really, because otherwise, my clockwork morning sickness would be a lot harder to hide. He’s been distant enough lately, distracted by the upcoming assassination, that I’m not sure he would connect the dots even if he did catch me puking, and he spends enough time in his office—just like I’ve been working long hours to keep my mind off him—that I haven’t had to worry about it.

It would seem that today’s going to be just like every other day. That’s why I know the door will be locked until he gets back, but I need to stay busy until then, so I go into the bathroom, grab a trash bag, and take it to the bedroom so I can pack up the handful of belongings I intend to take with me. It’s not a lot—mainly my laptop and a bag of toiletries. I haven’t asked Maks what he intends to do with the clothes he’s kept on hand for me. I don’t even know if they’re old pieces from Kira’s closet or something he bought specifically for me. It feels wrong to ask, but I can’t deny I’ll miss the cozy outfits I’ve been wearing lately.

Chewing my lip, I look down at the sad collection of personal items, feeling like they can’t possibly represent everything I’ll be taking with me from this experience. Maks has changed my life in so many ways—permanently and, for the most part, for the better. My hand rests subconsciously on my belly as a knot of emotion forms in my throat, and because I’m feeling sentimental, I grab my favorite oversized sweater and fold it into the bag. I’ll ask him if I can keep it, but I can’t imagine he’ll say no. He’s just not that kind of guy.

The door clicks softly, and my heart skips a beat as Maks enters the room. He’s shirtless, his impressive muscles etched and hard beneath his tattoos, his gym shorts slung low around his hips, and his skin shiny with sweat. Dark hair falling across his forehead in damp curls, his blue eyes find mine, and a soft smile curves his lips as he catches me openly admiring him.

“Good morning,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d be up yet. You’ve been sleeping in more lately.”

The exhaustion is probably another side effect of being pregnant, but again, I can’t tell Maks that, and his casual observation of my routine makes my stomach flip-flop.

“I was going to ask if you’d like to get dinner with me before the gala tonight,” he continues.

Heat races across my skin at the invitation, and my pulse flutters. He’s never offered to take me out in public before, though I supposed tonight’s the night if he’s going to risk it. “That sounds nice?—”

My voice dies as his eyes drop to the open bag on the bed, the stack of personal items packed inside, and his smile fades, his face tensing.

I don’t know why I feel embarrassed about getting caught packing, but I squirm uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “I was going to ask before I took this,” I say, plucking at the soft cream-colored cashmere sweater I packed on top.

Maks swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he wipes the back of his neck with the towel in his hand. “Of course. You’re welcome to take any of the clothes I got for you. Pack a suitcase if you want.” He gestures to the closet, where he keeps his luggage tucked away. But the soft look in his eyes is gone, replaced by a cold apathy that makes my chest ache. Clearing his throat gruffly, Maks gives a single nod. “Let’s plan to leave for dinner at five.” Then he turns abruptly back toward the door.

“Okay,” I agree as my stomach drops. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Back to the gym,” he states, his voice flat, and he closes the door firmly behind him.

It takes a long time for my pulse to return to normal, and a sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want my last day with Maks to be any harder than it has to be, but I don’t know how I ever thought it might be easy. Maybe it’s some twisted form of Stockholm syndrome, But when it comes down to it, I feel closer to Maks than anyone else in my life. I haven’t cared this much about anyone since my mother died, and walking away from him will mean leaving behind a part of me I think I’m going to miss being in touch with.

Sighing, I rest my palms on the flat of my stomach. “But I’ve got you, right, bud?” I murmur to my baby.

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