Page 65 of Silent Ties

It makes me smile, the way he’s started to point out interesting spots. Turns out, in his spare time he’s constantly on blog sites, still acting like a tourist despite living here for the past few years. Since he knows I love coffee and sweets, he keeps an eye out for spots I might enjoy.

Warmth weighs my chest down at the kindness. Both have picked up the vibe the past week and while they keep quiet on it, I know it’s the reason they went out of their way to drive me to a new bakery in SoHo.

Maybe it’s because they noticed my lack of appetite for treats the past week. Stress eating is my favorite coping mechanism but I’m not even interested in that lately.

The black SUV pulls up to the front of the restaurant. Pavel lingers in the car, but Sergei opens my door.

My heels dig into the ground and I wiggle so my skirt straightens. It’s a blustery late spring day that hints of summer just around the corner.

“You know—”Sergei surprises me by speaking—“I can always create a fake emergency.”

For a second I don’t understand. He’s a tough-looking, bald guy. Broad-shouldered with a naturally wary face. His spine is straight, his mustache and goatee groomed. He often won’t meet my eye, keeping his face neutral when he talks, in a direct and to-the-point manner. I can’t say I’ve interactedwith a lot of bodyguards but he takes professionalism seriously.

Today, it’s the same. Standing tall, with his hands clasped in front of him. His black suit impeccable. But he explains. “If you need out, you tell me and I come and grab you.”

Another surge of warmth surrounds me. Perhaps the absence of kindness makes me notice it so sharply in the words and actions of Pavel and Sergei.

I’ve been so focused on trying to create something with Max that I didn’t think about building myself a team.

The Zimins got to where they are because they chose their alliances carefully.

I know my enemies—Marissa, Yelena, and Olga.

I never thought about my allies.

It takes a second before I can form words. “Thank you.”

The door is held open for me. There’s a larger lunch crowd than normal, even at the early hour. At this point, I know exactly which table we’ll be seated at, but I don’t walk toward the main room.

I step up to the glass display case of desserts. Most of the time, I don’t let myself look at them, or else I get annoyed. I’ve thought about having Sergei order me some to go, but it felt a bit too ridiculous.

There’s the usual staples: the tower of macrons, the giant slices of layered cakes, and tiramisu cupcakes. I lean closer trying to figure out one of the creations.

People mill around behind me. A little girl giggles and steps echo against the floor. I note a presence at my side but ignore it.

All these happy people around me will associate this place with good memories.

“Which one are you getting?”

My spine stiffens at Max’s voice.

He’s right beside me looking perfect asalways. Strong jawline with a bit more stubble than normal. His dark hair is trimmed at the sides, the longer strands on top curling just the slightest. I’m biased because I love his body, but the tailored jacket reminds me how attractive he is in any setting.

He turns his eyes from the display case to look at me. “Which one do you like to get?”

I shake my head, breathless.

He raises a brow like he can’t believe it. “You don’t get anything?”

I shake my head again.

He turns back to the display case but my gaze stays on his profile. What is he doing here?

“Well, we’re getting something today,” he declares.

“W-we are?” I dread these lunches, wishing every time I had someone with me. Someone to protect me from Yelena.

I think in some ways Max does try to protect me. It’s why Sergei never leaves my side. And it explains his anger toward Elijah, who managed to infiltrate his way into the penthouse. I thought Lev told me Max worried about Paublino to talk his son up, but I saw his nerves that day.

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