Page 22 of Fatal Bonds

“You’ll stay in my room,” he states, opening one side of the thick, dark-stained double doors that open into the master suite.

This room, too, has a wall of windows, and the furniture looks both heavy and expensive. The dark, earthy tones of the room are calm and inviting, but my pulse jumps at the way he says “my room.”

“You expect me to sleep in the same bed with you?” I ask, immediately on the defense. Yes, we had sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to make that an ongoing thing. Not when I’m being held here against my will.

Maks glances at me, one eyebrow raising in silent question, and I scoff.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit presumptuous?” I shake my head. “It was a mistake to have sex with you. I don’t intend to turn this into a relationship just because we fuckedone time.”

Maks’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to have a relationship with you—or any woman, for that matter.”

Shock jolts through my body at the conviction in his statement. He’s not just saying that to pacify me. He means it, and for some completely irrational reason, that makes my stomach sink.

“But I don’t trust you, so I can either chain you in my guest room, or you can sleep in my bed. I thought this would be the more comfortable alternative. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He’s not wrong. The bed is massive and looks dangerously inviting after the day I’ve had, but he’s not the only one I don’t trust to keep his hands to himself. After my response to his punishment—and what happened in the aftermath—it’s apparent my attraction to him makes me impulsive, and I need to keep my head on straight. Maks isn’t my friend. He’s not my protector—even if I feel more safe with him than I have since I left the house this morning. He’s my captor, and I need to keep that straight.

“Seriously, Maks, I’m not going anywhere. I clearly have nowhere to go but back to you anyhow. I’m not safe in Chicago knowing what I know. I’ve learned my lesson, so can we just skip the part where you show me just how deeply deceived you feel? I’ll stay put.”

“Considering there is more on the line than whether I can trust you, no,” he states, turning to face me fully. “If you don’t like the arrangements I’ve made for you, it might be time I consider the alternative.”

“Alternative?” I cross my arms over my chest to hide the quiver in my stomach.

“Killing you would be a lot more straightforward.”

The humor in his eyes is gone, that dangerous edge creeping back into his tone, raising the hairs on the back of my neck as a shiver races down my spine. I’m suddenly intensely aware of how much larger than me Maks is, how big and powerful his arms are beneath his fine suit. An alarm triggers in the back of my mind, warning me that he’s perfectly capable of ending my life. My hands feel clammy at the thought. I don’t want to die. I definitely don’t want to die like this, over a secret I accidentally stumbled upon. I need to tread lightly.

“I won’t betray you again,” I promise, letting my arms drop and doing my best to train my features into a genuine expression that will hide the fear trickling through my veins. “I’ve seen how far that gets me, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to live. So how can I earn back your trust?”

Maks considers me for a long moment, as if to get the measure of my sincerity. “Would you be willing to help gain intel on the man I intend to have murdered?”

My heart stutters, my blood turning cold. Helping him would make me an accomplice to the crime. I wouldn’t just be implicit because I know about the murder. I would be directly responsible for making it possible.Am I capable of knowingly sentencing a man to death just to save my life? Maks said he would be doing the world a favor to kill this guy, but do I know that?I have no problem with the man. I’ve never even met him. But I have met Maks, and while he has protected me and done nice things for me, he’s also taken me prisoner, threatened to torture me, withheld food to get answer from me, and punished me for trying to run away. It’s not like he’s Mother Teresa over there.Can I believe Maks? What could make someone so horrible their death would make the world a better place? I don’t think I could stand by and let someone kill Maks, and he’s far from a solid citizen, so how am I supposed to say yes to condemning another man I know nothing about?

My lips part, but no words come out. It feels as though a hand is wrapped around my throat, choking my will to stand up for what’s right. When it comes down to it, my sense of self-preservation is much stronger. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

10

MAKS

It’s nearly 9 p.m. by the time I open the fake email account we created for Lindsey. We made it under a false name so she could apply to the college internship at Emiliano Costanzo’s legitimate real estate company he uses as a front for his main income. It’s been days with no response, even though we went to considerable lengths to make her look like a legitimate and optimal candidate for the position. I’m starting to worry that the plan didn’t work. But when I open the email, she has one unread message from Costanzo Realty Investments Inc.

Hope swells in my chest, and I click on it, then huff a breath of relief. She got an interview. It’s set for this coming week, which will give us a bit more time to form a strategy for how she should infiltrate his office. Hopefully, we’ll get more details about the interview process before then.

To distract myself from the buzzing anticipation humming through my veins, I wrap up a few more things on my computer. It’s where I handle a considerable amount of my business in this day and age, unlike when I first took over aspakhanand managed business through keeping a concrete set of double books. This is much more efficient. I don’t typically prefer to work from home, but I’ve been doing it a lot this week to keep a close eye on Lindsey, and having everything I need on a laptop makes that a lot easier.

When I shut it down for the night, I lock the computer away for safe measure. It’s late, but I’m still jazzed about Lindsey’s interview. Plans are finally moving forward again, and the thought of getting one step closer to killing Emiliano makes me feel more alive. But it’s past the time Lindsey usually turns in, and I should tell her we’re finally moving forward.

She’s not in the bedroom when I unlock the door, but the bathroom light is on, and I can hear her rustling through the drawers as I step inside. The movement pauses, as if she’s listening for something. “Maks?”

It’s the same tentative call she does whenever I enter a room where she can’t see me—probably a residual effect from being a woman and living on her own, and it reminds me of how long she’s been fending for herself. She has good instincts.

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging out of my suit jacket and draping it over the back of my leather reading chair.

“I swear, that shower is a gift from the gods,” she says, stepping through the arched doorway a moment later as she towels her long blond hair dry. “I might have to start using it twice a day.”

“It’s there to be enjoyed. Use it as often as you like.” My gaze trails down her body.

She’s wearing one of my T-shirts again. It looks oversized on her as it brushes her upper thighs, and I know that she’s wearing only panties underneath. It’s all she’s slept in since I brought her here, and I can’t decide if she’s doing it to be comfortable or if she’s trying to drive me insane. If that’s her goal, her plan is working. She’s dangerously tempting with her nipples pressing through the soft cotton and her toned legs on full display—she’s casually sensual without even trying—and seeing her in my clothes unleashes a possessive desire I’ve never felt for a woman before. Having her in my bed every night is not helping, knowing she’s just inches away and would feel so fucking incredible wrapped around me. Turning away from her, I press the heel of my palm against my swelling cock to curb my arousal. Only after I have myself back under control do I start to unbutton my shirt.

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