Page 58 of Fatal Bonds

My heart squeezes at the genuinity behind his words, and my feelings for Maks just keep growing stronger. This dinner was a mistake, because now I’m more torn about what to do than ever. I’m not ready for this to be the end.

25

MAKS

Ibarely taste the dinner we ordered, but from the sounds of pleasure that Lindsey makes with every new dish she tastes, it must be good. I just can’t stop thinking about what she said—how she doesn’t regret what’s happened. I don’t see how that’s possible when she’s been so vocal about her frustration over being my prisoner. She fought me tooth and nail at the start, and she ran every chance she got, but somehow, she can look back on the situation I put her in without resentment. Maybe that will change once she gains some distance, but it doesn’t stop the small seed of hope from planting itself in my chest, and it takes all my effort to root it out before it can get out of hand.

Watching Lindsey eat does little to help me on that front. I’ve never met someone who enjoys food quite like she does. She makes me enjoy the act of cooking more than I knew I could, and meals with her never fail to put me in a better mood—even when shit’s going sideways.

It also doesn’t help that tonight, it feels like all the walls we’ve built up over the past few weeks have fallen away. We’re talking like we used to, joking, flirting. It would be nearly impossible not to when Lindsey’s wearing a dress like that. She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, and every time I catch a glimpse of the rock on her finger, it makes me think about what might have been if we were living in some alternate universe.

“Seriously, I can’t eat another bite,” Lindsey insists as I push the passionfruit mousse back across the table toward her. Her laughter fills the space when I give it another nudge in her direction. “Okay, fine, but only if you finish it.”

The sound of her laughter does cartwheels to my chest, and I grin wolfishly, aware that I’ve smiled more at this dinner than I have in weeks. “Deal,” I say, and watch as she scoops a delicate bite onto her spoon and traps it between her lips. I can see the pleasure behind it, and the partial hard-on I’ve been sporting all dinner throbs. I fucking love watching Lindsey eat. I enjoy it almost as much as I enjoy tasting her pussy—partially because it makes me think of that face she makes when I do go down on her. Even if I spent a lifetime with her, I’m not sure I would tire of it, and my chest aches to think this could be the last time I get to see it.

“Maks,” she says, her eyebrows arching with warning, and she glances down at the dessert.

“Right.”

Scooping the last spoonful of mousse from the small ceramic dish, I put it in my mouth. It’s light and creamy, with just the right amount of tart tang and sweetness. I know that it’s exceptional—another reason I wanted to bring her here. But none of the food we’ve eaten tonight compares to Lindsey herself, and I’m just torturing myself with all of the reminders about what I’m going to miss about her. Still, if it’s my last night with her, I want to enjoy everything I love about her one last time.

“You ready to go?” I ask, glancing at my watch.

“Yeah.” Lindsey’s expression is suddenly nervous as she wipes her lips with her napkin and sets it on the table, then stands.

I follow suit, placing my hand on the small of her back again as I walk her toward the door. Her dress is cut low enough in the back that I get a glimpse of the dimples on either side of her spine, and again, I know I did this to myself—adding to the temptation until it’s nearly impossible to focus on the point of tonight. That’s actually a good thing, I think, because if I didn’t have Lindsey to distract me, I would be far too tempted to step in and kill Emiliano myself.

“That dinner was amazing,” Lindsey gushes once we’re inside the limo, her eyes bright as she turns toward me. “Thank you, Maks. Really.”

“You’re welcome.” I can feel her knee brushing lightly against mine, and when I glance down, the slit of her dress has fallen open to reveal one silky smooth thigh.

As I force my eyes back up to her face, I know she’s caught me looking, and my cock swells against my thigh. An undercurrent of electrical tension fills the back of the limo as Lindsey’s breath catches, and her tongue darts out to run across her lips. Fuck, I want to kiss her, to pull her onto my lap and feel what’s under that dress. If my security weren’t riding with us to the front doors of the event, I might act on the impulse, but as much as I want to touch Lindsey, I don’t want to give anyone else the pleasure of hearing the sounds she makes when my fingers are inside her.

“I almost forgot,” I say, breaking the connection as I turn from her to the compartment in the armrest beside me. “I have something for you.”

“Haven’t you already given me enough?” she asks, her voice incredulous.

I chuckle as I turn back to her, careful not to touch her this time and make my arousal any less bearable. I don’t answer as I hand her a large velvet box. She glances between it and me before accepting it, then slowly lifts the lid.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, running her fingers over the fine black lace mask with jewels sewn into the delicate pattern. It will cover both her eyes and the tops of her cheekbones, though the asymmetrical design curves higher along the left temple and down the jawline almost like a butterfly’s wing. She picks it up carefully, like she might break it just from touching it, and the black silk ties dangle from the corners. “Help me put it on?”

“Of course.” Our fingers brush as she passes it to me, and a jolt rushes up my arm. Trying to ignore it, I press the heel of my palm into my growing erection, subtly adjusting myself as she turns her back to me. Then I reach around her, letting her position the mask on her face before I tie it at the back of her head.

Her blond hair is soft and silky, cascading down her open back in waves, and after I tie the silk in a bow, I have to restrain myself from running my fingers through it before I pull away. When she turns to face me, my chest twinges at the sight of her blue eyes—somehow even more beautiful now that they’re her most prominent feature.

“Beautiful,” I state.

“What are you wearing?” she asks, glancing behind me expectantly.

Pulling out my more basic white one, I use the elastic to strap it to my face. The more structured style that covers my eyes and nose along with the right side of my face will make me less identifiable, and seeing as I’m sure Emiliano and his cronies will be on high alert for me tonight, the less recognizable I am, the better.

“You ready?” I ask as the limo pulls up to the bottom of the steps, where a red carpet leads the way and paparazzi line the steps. Everyone who is anyone in Chicago attends this event, and no doubt it will be the main headline in the news tomorrow morning—especially after what Lucian and I have planned.

“Yes,” Lindsey says, her voice suddenly breathless.

Nodding to my men, I say, “Stay close. Be ready to make a quick getaway if I give the word.”

“Gospodin.” Liam gives a curt nod of acknowledgment.

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