Page 48 of Captivated By the Bratva

He handled the process of getting me checked out, and when the lead doctor assessed me, still concerned about memory issues, he seemed suspicious. I went with the story that Maxim was my husband—the lie he started—and with his collaborative falsehoods, we convinced them that I suddenly, almost magically, no longer had memory issues.

That just seeing my “husband” had snapped me out of the mental fog.

I was discharged, and still, on the drive from the hospital, Maxim didn’t say anything.

He was mad. Aloof. Broody.

The longer he remained quiet, the tenser I became. I was lucky to have been hit with no lingering or serious injuries or complications. It was a miracle. My body was still exhausted, though. I hadn’t slept well in the hospital. Plus, this constant stress of being on the run was tiresome.

I didn’t have the energy to fight or play mind games with him.

“How long are you going to give me the silent treatment?”

He sighed, not taking his eyes off the road. “I’m not. I’m thinking.”

I chewed on my lip, wishing I could feel the tingle of his mouth against mine again. With the way he was acting, desire was a joke.

“Thinking about how quickly you could get me to the airport and fly me back to my dad?”

He turned slightly, glowering at me. His lack of an answer didn’t improve my mood.

I anticipated a return to the hotel I’d run from, but it seemed that he wanted to change up our hotel. If he was paranoid about staying in one place, he must have had a reason to be worried, but I couldn’t summon the clarity to stress about that.

Being in the hospital wasn’t easy. Someone died next to me when I was in the emergency room. A couple cried together as they faced major surgeries after a house fire. Hearing others in such distress reiterated how alone I was, and in those sober moments of respecting how short life was, I wanted Maxim. I missed him fiercely, and now that he’d come back to me, I wanted to fight with all I had to make him understand that.

“How did you find me?”

He parked and looked at me. “I searched all the hospitals. I kept calling. And today, someone said they had a patient matching your description.”

I nodded. If he was waiting for an apology, I wasn’t sure how I’d give him one. I wasn’t sorry to try to save myself from marriage with Lev. But I was remorseful that I’d worried him and inconvenienced him to hunt me down like that.

Upstairs, in another hotel room he’d acquired, he gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you’re not wounded in any other way?” He hovered, looking over me and seeming genuinely worried.

“No.” I shook my head and let him check me over. I felt touched that he’d be so concerned even when he had to be so angry.

“You’re not hurting anywhere?”

Only in my heart. Because I want you so badly it pains me.

“No.” I grabbed his hand and stopped him from obsessing over looking for an injury. I already knew how protective he was, but I wanted to think that he was so hawkish and worried because he wanted me to remain well and unharmed. Not that he had to make sure he wouldn’t deliver a faulty bride to Lev.

He sighed, not pulling his hand out of mine. “You shouldn’t have run, Nadia.”

I licked my lips. My heart beat faster, and I drew in a long breath to brace for talking. For pouring my heart out to him and convincing him that we belonged together, not parted because my dad promised me to a man old enough to be my grandfather.

“Please, Maxim. I am begging you to understand.”

He stared at me, so intensely that I couldn’t dare to look away. “To understand what? What do you have to explain to me?”

“That I don’t want to be given to Mr. Avilov.”

Still, he gazed at me. His charming, cocky smile didn’t show on his handsome face. But I had his full attention.

“It’s not fair to me,” I added.

“Lifeisn’t fair,” he argued gently, reaching out to cup my face. He stroked his thumb over my cheek, and with the reverence shining in his eyes, I felt like the most treasured woman in the world.

His touch comforted me. While he wasn’t rushing to agree with me, he wasn’t being combative and insisting that he had to do his job and bring me home.

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