Ruthless Stranger by Maggie Cole

17

Aspen

Maksim takesme to a restaurant I've never been to. It's a five-star steakhouse with a Japanese flair and an extremely private environment. The entire restaurant is dimly lit with candles on the tables. The hostess leads Maksim and me to a small room with only enough space for the table. It's a semicircle, and the luxurious booth forms around it. The chocolate-brown leather is tufted and thickly padded. Soft indie music seductively fills my ears.

Maksim helps me out of my coat and hangs it on the hook. He motions for me to slide in. He follows, and the hostess hands us menus. "Your server will be with you shortly, Mr. Ivanov."

"No rush," Maksim replies and puts his arm around me.

She smiles then blushes, continuing to stare at him instead of leaving. She finally says, "Would you like me to put your drink order in?"

Are you kidding me?

I drape my hand on Maksim's thigh. I didn't realize I was a jealous person, but the way she's looking at my man, like he's her eye candy, sets something off in me.

She's younger than me by at least ten years.

The ghost of my past and Peter's infidelity with Ms. Co-ed is a demon I don't even try to fight. "We're good, thanks," I snap before Maksim can reply.

Her hazel eyes widen, and she breaks her drooling gaze away from Maksim and focuses on me.

Yep, I'm in the room, and you can get your flirty ass away from my man.

She takes a nervous breath and addresses Maksim. "Would you like the door left open or shut?"

"Shut," I answer, forcing a smile and inching my fingers on Maksim's inner thigh toward his cock.

She scurries away, closing the door behind her.

He turns to me, raising his eyebrows.

"She can find another daddy somewhere else."

He breaks out in laughter.

"It's not funny."

His face falls. He traces my jaw. "My krasotka, I told you I would never be unfaithful to you. It's not the type of man I am."

I focus on the door, trying to calm my shaking insides.

Why do Peter's actions have to affect me?

Maksim's lips brush against my ear. "I have everything I want with you."

I take a deep breath and turn to him. "I'm sorry."

His eyes twinkle. He teases, "It's okay. Your jealous side is cute, too." He pecks me on the lips, and the waiter comes in.

"Krasotka, do you drink wine?"

"Yes."

"Red or white?"

"Either. Surprise me."

Maksim scans the wine list. "A bottle of the Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac, please." The words roll effortlessly off his tongue.

When the waiter leaves, I ask, "Do you speak French, too?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I feel super uncultured with you." I say it jokingly, but a part of me does. We're in two different worlds. He's rich, multilingual, and powerful in too many ways to count. I'm the woman trying to keep her rent paid and the cockroaches under control.

"Do you want to learn Russian or French? I'll teach you."

"Is it hard?"

"Not if you break it down and take it one word or phrase at a time."

"Okay. Teach me Russian."

The waiter returns and uncorks the bottle. He pours a small amount into a glass to try. It's so dense it's almost black. Maksim pushes it to me. "You taste it, my krasotka."

I pretend to know what I'm doing. The juicy but tart aroma of currants flares in my nostrils. I inhale the intoxicating smell then take a sip. It's smooth and luxurious with the right amount of everything, but I really have no clue what I'm supposed to be tasting. Whenever I see people do it, I always wonder if anyone sends the bottle back.

"This is delicious," I say. It might be the best glass of wine I've ever had.

Maksim smiles and nods to the waiter. He fills two glasses, leaving me with the one I tasted the wine in. And that is another thing I never understood. Why doesn't he pour me more in my tasting glass, which is the same as the one he's filling?

"Did you want to order appetizers?" the waiter asks.

"Is there anything special you like, or do you want me to order?" Maksim asks.

"You can. I'm not picky."

He rattles off several things, and the waiter leaves.

I take a sip of my wine. "I didn't ask you how your meeting went with your brothers. Is everything okay?"

Something crosses in his eyes. As quickly as it comes, it goes, so I'm unsure how to take it. He replies, "I do have a problem. I wondered if you could help me."

"Sure. What is it?"

"I need to get the zoning issue solved. That project keeps our men working. They must have incomes to feed their families and not have any lapses in paychecks." Worry laces his voice.

"I understand your concern. It's nice you care about your employees so much."

The same thing that entered his expression is back, but this time, it doesn't leave.

"Maksim, what else aren't you telling me?"

He taps his long fingers on the bottom of his glass then swirls it on the table. "There is another issue I can't go into with you. But it has never been more important for us to keep our projects going. Not for our bank accounts but for our community."

My stomach twists. I want to ask him what he means, but I also promised him I wouldn't require his disclosure on every situation if he deemed it unsafe for me to know.

"It's something dangerous?"

His face is solemn. He pins me with his gaze. "Not just for my brothers and me. For our community of people but also others who are at risk."

"Such as?" I don't know why I'm pushing. I should respect the boundary he's trying to set. He already told me he couldn't tell me.

He takes a sip of wine. I almost tell him I'm sorry for asking, but he turns back to me. "From the moment we stepped foot in America until Boris gave me his gambling winnings to build our real estate business, we lived in poverty. No matter how hard my mother or father worked, they could never get ahead. The struggle was a daily occurrence. I used to hear my parents arguing about it. My father knew Zamir and his men were not good. He warned my mother over and over not to ever get involved with the Petrov family. When he died, there was a new sense of desperation."

I put my hand on Maksim's cheek. "I'm sorry about your parents."

His face hardens under my hand. He redirects his attention to his wine glass, swirling it some more. "It was a long time ago." He takes another mouthful.

I choose my words carefully. "Zamir is part of whatever is going on?"

He briefly closes his eyes. "Yes."

"So you need to keep your employees working so they don't become desperate and turn to him?"

He spins in his seat toward me. "Yes. But not just our people. The Polish as well. Zamir has been preying on their bad fortune lately. And a lack of money drives people to do things they never believed they could. We are the largest employer for both Russians and Polish men in Chicago. We are a natural target for Zamir to hit. If he hurts us, he increases his recruits quickly. Men, who would otherwise have no reason to join him, will."

"I will do whatever I can to help you. The hurdle is the board. Do you know if any of them could be in Zamir's pocket?" I may be naive to mob business, but I understand the dirty politicians that run Chicago. I've seen too many outcomes not make any sense for there not to be under-the-table deals.

Maksim snorts. "Possibly all of them. But I will look into it."

"We need to come up with a reason for them to have an emergency meeting. I will research more when I get to work tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

The waiter comes in and sets down three dishes. He points at each. "Salmon tartare, tuna tataki, and sushi platter. Did you want to order now?"

"Aspen?" Maksim asks.

"You keep ordering," I tell him. I hate looking at menus, especially in a five-star restaurant. I've not been to many, but I'm immediately going to look at the prices of everything and pick the cheapest items since I've had to do that for the last twenty years. By letting Maksim decide, I avoid the stress. Plus, I like to try new things, so I'm interested to see what he chooses.

Maksim quickly selects, and the waiter leaves. Maksim picks up his chopsticks, secures salmon tartare on it, and holds it to my mouth.

"Mmm," I groan as the salmon melts in my mouth.

He smiles. "Good?"

"Mmhmm." I finish chewing, swallow, and wash it down with another sip of wine. "This is all delicious. Thank you."

He puts another mouthful of food to my mouth.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"Yes. After you try everything first."

I don't argue and let him feed me the tuna. It, too, melts in my mouth.

"Are you free this weekend?" he asks.

I swallow. I tease, "Oh, I don't know. I might need to wash my hair."

He grins. "Dmitri's wedding is this weekend. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night, and the ceremony and reception are Saturday. Will you come with me?"

"That depends."

He raises his eyebrows. "On?"

"Are you wearing a tux?"

"Yep."

"I'm definitely in, then."

"Do you have a thing about tuxedos?"

"Nope. But I think I'm going to have a thing about you in a tux."

He softly laughs. "Guess you're in luck, then. Every month or so, I have an event to go to where I need to wear one."

"Is this a blanket invitation?"

He drags his finger from my forehead and down the side of my face. "No. If I have an event, I'll ask you to go. But you will be asked to all of them."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not at all. I think it's easy to take advantage of someone you're in a relationship with. And I won't assume you'll go somewhere with me without asking."

My insides flutter. "You're old-school, aren't you?"

"Is that your way of saying I'm an old man?"

"No. But I like old men, remember?"

His lips twitch. "Ah. Yes. I forgot about your resistance to being a cougar."

"Makes you a lucky man."

Amusement fills his eyes. "That I am."

"So, what time is the dinner tomorrow night?"

"Seven. When do you get out of work?"

"Probably four. Most people leave around then on Fridays."

He pecks me on the lips. "Good. I think you should stay at my place all weekend, too."

"Okay. I'll need to go to my apartment and figure out what to wear."

"I'll order you something."

"You don't have to. You've already bought me enough things."

He leans into my ear and nibbles on it. His hand slides to my inner thigh.

I squirm in my seat.

He murmurs, "Do you have a problem with me buying you things?"

"Ummm..."

Do I?

His tongue flicks the back of my ear like a snake.

"I'm not sure."

His mouth moves across my jaw. He pauses when he gets to my lips. His eyes meet mine. In a no-room-to-argue voice, he says, "You should have the best, my krasotka. And I will give it to you."

I don't respond. I've never had anyone give me nice things before. Some women would fight him and claim they don't want it or need it. But I love everything he's given me. Maybe I'm a bad woman for it, but I also think Maksim will do what he wants. He seems to enjoy spoiling me.

I say, "I might be a horrible woman for admitting this, but it's nice to be taken care of and spoiled for once."

His eyes darken. "As you should have always been."

My chest tightens, and I wish it wouldn't. I don't want to feel any emotions from my past, especially not sadness, when I'm with Maksim. But baggage is hard to escape. Years of not having anyone to rely on and making everything work for both Peter and me rears its ugly head. I turn away from Maksim, embarrassed that I'm tearing up. I blink hard. I put my fingers over my eyes to stop the tears from falling, and my lip quivers.

Like everything Maksim does, he takes control of the situation and pulls me into his chest, covering my cheek with his palm, and kissing me on the forehead. "Everything you've not had, I will give you. And I will love every moment of taking care of you. You are not on your own anymore, my krasotka."

I want to believe him and that it can be that simple. That all he has to do is snap his fingers, and we'll live happily ever after. But I'm not the only one with baggage. And when two people's issues intertwine, good intentions and promises become almost impossible to keep.