Page 74 of The Crimson Lily
Maksim barges into the room about half an hour later. He’s panting. His hair isn’t done, and his shirt is crumpled. He doesn’t even wear his belt. It looks like he’s been in a fight with an alley cat. What strikes me the most is his piercing glare aimed at me.
I approach him, my legs trembling a little. “What’s wrong?” I ask with tremors in my voice.
I’m not sure what’ll happen in the next second. Maksim seizes my shoulders, clutches them in his talons, and pins me against the nearest wall. I am stunned for a split second, hearing only the horn of a car racing outside.
Maksim is angry.
“Where were you?” he questions, his demonic voice ringing between my ears.
I only answer after a few stray blinks. “I just took a stroll?—”
“You didn’t have your tracker,” he accuses.
My tracker? Oh, shit!Thattracker. I completely forgot about it. But I forgot it yesterday as well. Why is he so angry now?
“I thought?—”
Maksim silences me with his big hand on my mouth. “I was worried sick, Liliana. You’re not safe if I’m not watching.”
Maksim woke up, and I was nowhere to be found. He went off in the streets to find me.
My shoulders relax, and I give him a complying look, proving I won’t argue with him. He releases the pressure on my lips, his fingers slipping to the side of my face. He kisses me, his free hand clenching a fist against the wall. I know he’s still furious,but the relief he feels from seeing me safe and sound conquers the anger in him.
My jeans have slipped down my legs. Maksim’s hand is making its way down my thighs when the doorbell suddenly rings. I didn’t even know we had a doorbell! Maksim adjusts his hair and shirt and goes to check the door while I mirror his moves and dash out of sight.
“Ah! The Bratva is here,” a man remarks in Giovanni’s voice.
“Giovanni,” Maksim observes, not greeting him.
“Good morning!” Chiara’s voice.
I peek out from the corner, fully clothed, with a thin smile radiating awkwardness. Giovanni wears jeans bluer than my eyes, with a thick beige sweater tucked underneath his coat and scarf. Chiara’s thigh-high stilettos cover her black pantyhose and meet with the flounce of a red winter dress. The two would actually look good together. Both of them smile at me, then assess me from where they stand with eyebrows curved.
What is it now? The mark on my neck? Something else? Or maybe they figured out what Maksim and I were doing just now.
Chiara clears her throat. “The gathering is happening tonight,” she announces, her Italian accent still the same. “I have the location.”
I thought she’d tell it tomebecause, somehow, I have the idea in my head thatIam supposed to infiltrate that meeting, but she turns to Maksim. She even pauses first to scan him from head to feet.
Eyes off, Chiara, I want to say.
I swear I see her blush when they lock eyes.
“I assume you’ll be going?” she checks, a daring stutter hidden in her voice.
Maksim responds with one affirmative nod.
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Aren’t I supposed to go?”
Giovanni searches for my gaze. I can see him in the corner of my eye, eager to look at me. I grant him my attention.
“The Bratva had other plans,” he discloses. “TheRussohere will take the lead.” There is a whiff of disappointed reluctance in his tone.
So the Bratva, the Mafia Capitale, and Chiara have secret conversations I’m not supposed to know about. Okay! I feel slightly perplexed and maybe a little left out. It’s also quite awkward to be standing here between Maksim and Giovanni, who already know each other, obviously.
“What’s the plan?” I prompt, hoping to hear the full script and synopsis.
“We are going to Ostia tonight,” Giovanni starts. He raises a hand to point at Maksim. “He will wear the coat and mask and be our eyes and ears.”
