Page 21 of One of Them

Every bit the soldier from the street, they described him as.

Despite the initial shock, I can’t say his statement surprised me. It was more the timing. I suspected Malek had a harder time moving on from our brief fling than I did.

These fucking men could pretend to be all tough and detached, yet one way or another, they were all hooked. All possessed weaknesses. Had attachments. Feelings in some capacity. Women, addictions, greed, money.

Don’t they say everyone can be bought? They can also be hurt just the same.

Malek, walking in with his obsessive declarations, complicated everything. Not in the head, no; my thoughts on the matter were clear. Moreover, he wasn’t a man I wanted to be connected to. Especially now.

I could do without the attention his obsession brought along. He was coming for Ilya’s position. Or at least had long-term ambitions. I can’t be seen as a part of the movement.

If only I possessed the ability to predict the future when I gave myself to him months ago.

Thinking of an appropriate response, given the situation I found myself in, I breathed out, “I…”

“Wow,” the man seated furthest spoke, getting everyone’s attention. “I didn’t know this meeting came with a show.”

By interrupting me, he certainly saved Malek from the public embarrassment of being turned down. No ‘missed you too’ would come out of my mouth.

Malek’s head snapped toward the direction of the voice, assessing the owner. “You must be Maxim.”

“That’s me. And you are?” With his gaze locked on me, it was painfully obvious Malek wasn’t the one Maxim was interested in getting to know.

Either I amused him, or he was doing his best to get on Malek’s nerves.

My mouth opened a crack before Ilya answered for me. “Taya.”

His insertion ticked me off. I didn’t need him speaking for me.

The rest of the table watched closely, not breathing a sound, while the four of us entertained.

Maxim never dropped his gaze, and I stared right back. A moment passed before he smiled, blinked, and turned his tattooed neck elsewhere.

I swear he just winked at me. Did anyone catch that? Who did I piss off to end up at this table filled with insane men?

Enzo better have a drink waiting for me.

While I brewed, Maxim continued inquiring, “What kind of twisted love triangle do we have going on here?” He motioned between the three of us with his inked hand before finally setting his eyes on Ilya. “And you plan for my sister to fall into this, how, exactly? Please, do tell.”

His tone wasn’t Pakhan-friendly, but clearly he didn’t care.

Ilya sat up straight, his mouth set in a straight line. “Taya and I are long-term friends,” he clarified, not sparing Alisa a glance. “What’s between her and Malek isn’t my business.”

Maxim zeroed in on me again, awaiting a response. I looked at Malek instead, hoping for his reaction, but it was clear he was glad for the chance to put a label on us.

The entire situation felt very much like a ‘no, you do it’ moment, with everybody pointing at someone else, and I grew more tired with each passing second.

Patience at an ultimate low, I left it all out there. “We fucked.”

Somewhere down the table, a cough sounded, but I didn’t inquire whose.

Intending to stare down Maxim, the current source of my irritation, I expanded on the statement. “You know, that’s when two consenting adults agree to do something that is none of your fucking business.”

A look of approval flashed on his face before he smiled, almost creepily. “Feisty.” The word rolled off his tongue. “I wouldn’t be asking if Romeo here,” he pointed to Malek, seated on the opposite side, “didn’t march in with hearts instead of eyes.”

Point taken.

“We aren’t here for me or Malek.”

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