38

Sasha
Never leave an attention-hungry mafia princess home unattended.
I smile to myself as I whip out Maxim’s credit card at O’hare airport and board the first plane to L. A.
Since my phone hasn’t started ringing, I’ll bet Maxim hasn’t even figured out I’m gone yet.
Guess who’s back in the States, bitches? I group text Ashley, Kayla, and Sheri, my three former housemates and besties from college. I’m on my way to your place. Party tonight?
OMG!!! Sheri is the first to respond. Hell to the yes! Where are you now?
About to board a plane for L. A. I text back.
From RUSSIA??!
No, Chicago. Be there in a couple of hours.
Kayla is the next to reply with a string of alcohol emojis and, EEEEEEK! I get off at six. Can’t wait to see you!
Then Ashley: Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? I am so down with partying tonight. Can’t wait!!!!! I’m home now. Her text is followed by five lines of happy faces, cocktail drinks and party hat emojis.
There are several more additions and confirmations and party girl . gifs. I sit back and smile. My four years at USC were the best time in my life, and the place I made lasting friendships with women as nutty as I am. Getting to see them again is one good thing about my new situation. And honestly? I’m thrilled to be back in the U. S.-Moscow suffocated me.
I have no doubt Maxim will catch up to me before the night is through. Even if he didn’t put a tracer in my phone, which I’m certain he has, I just used his credit card to buy my ticket.
But that’s the point. To be a pain in his ass and make him chase. It’s what I used to do to the bodyguards and spies my dad sent to watch over me. I intend to drive the man crazy. After all, he should earn the millions he just took control of, shouldn’t he?
Still, I nibble my lower lip, hoping I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew. Maxim has a way of getting under my guard that throws me off-balance. Which, if I’m truly honest, is the real reason I’m running off.
It was getting too intense back there.
For both of us.
After the coming out in my bra incident yesterday, Maxim made himself scarce, leaving me with nothing to do but watch television with his housemates.
He didn’t come back until dinner time when he took me out to a nearby cafe for dinner, and he disappeared again when we got back. Well, that’s not exactly true. I couldn’t keep my eyes open because the time change caught up to me, and I went to bed early, leaving him in the living room.
This morning, he jogged with me but then was working with the twins at the computer all day. This afternoon he disappeared again.
I like to think his avoidance is because of his blue-ball situation. Something I’m not the slightest bit sorry for. But I didn’t like the way it felt. To be ignored. Dumped. Locked in.
So the first time the living room emptied of people-what seems to be a rare occurrence there-I bailed. I grabbed my purse-the giant one I pre-packed with a few things and shut my bedroom door like I was locked inside reading. They may not notice I’m gone until Maxim returns.
The front door guy tried to stop me, but I got up in his face and pulled the bratva brat act. “Do you know who I am? No? I am Sasha Antonov, daughter of Igor Antonov, Ravil’s boss and wife of Maxim Popov. I can tell you my husband would not approve of you touching me or detaining me, right now.”
The guy dropped his touch on my arm like I was made of fire. “One moment, Mrs. Popov. He told me not to let you go out unattended.” The guy looked around, desperate for someone else to help him out-I’m sure he was debating whether it was worse to leave his post or to let me go.
I switched tactics and turned on the charm. “It’s okay. Maxim knows I’m just running to the store to grab some feminine hygiene products.” I whisper the feminine hygiene part.
He pulled back even more. “I’ll tell Maxim what a great job you’re doing manning your station down here. Thanks so much!” I waved my fingers individually and scooted out the door.
Dodging my security is a talent I’ve perfected.
Now I have my phone off, so Maxim can’t reach me, and I’ll be in L. A. by nightfall. Ready to tear up the town like old times.
Although with Maxim, there will certainly be consequences. I think of the way he tossed me over his lap and spanked my ass back in Russia and my lady parts warm. I’m totally warped because I’m actually hoping he does it again.
It excited me far more than I care to examine. But he excites me far more than I care to examine.
I pop my earbuds in my ears to watch reruns of Game of Thrones. After my Downton Abbey binge on the way over here, I’m still in the mood for period pieces. Game of Thrones seems fitting for my life now. That’s what we’re all playing with each other, after all.
Maxim
I return to the penthouse with an emerald ring in my pocket with enough bling to be seen from the moon. It has tiny diamonds all around it and down the band, and I engraved it with our names. I hated seeing Igor’s ring on Sasha’s finger, the constant reminder of what a sham of a wedding we had. I hated the symbolism of it, too. Like she was really married to her father not me.
I open the door to the penthouse with a spring in my step, thinking I’ve finally done something right when it comes to her.
She’s not in the living room. Nikolai and Dima are there, arguing heatedly over the best way to segment and match data from the airlines.
“Where’s Sasha, in my room?”
Dima spares me a glance. “Da. She’s been in there for a while now.”
A niggling of foreboding comes over me. Maybe I shouldn’t have left her alone. I stride across the living room and throw open my door.
No Sasha.
And her big carry-on purse is gone.
Fuck.
Me.
I check in the bathroom even though I know she won’t be there.
Gospodi. Women can never be trusted-they are always full of lies, deceit and tricks.
Unbidden, the memory of my mother’s cruel deception replays like the horror movie I can never unsee.
I know she’s lying, but I don’t want to believe it. I prefer to pretend everything is as she says.
“This is just a temporary thing, Max. I’ll be back in a week or two-a month at the longest. Be good and do as you’re told.”
The director of the orphanage puts an arm around my shoulders, gently tugging me away from her.
Panic wells. I grasp my mother’s arm and try to hold on as she pulls away from me.
The tears in her eyes glitter as proof she’s lying.
She’s not coming back.
I don’t cry because she told me not to. I am a good boy. I do as I’m told. I eat. Sleep. Sit and learn.
I wait.
I wait and wait.
Five years of pretending her words were true.
Then I stop pretending, pry my window open and run away.
I take to the streets with the gems I learned: always watch your back, rely only on yourself, and most importantly-women can’t be trusted.
Now I’ve been saddled with a bride who deals in trickery and deception, too.
“Trace her phone!” I boom to Dima and Nikolai as I come out.
“Oh fuck, really?” Dima says. “I’m sorry, Maxim. I thought she was in there.” He squares his shoulders off to his computer, and his fingers fly over the keys.
I want to shout and rail at them for losing my bride, but really I’m at fault. I should’ve stationed Oleg at the door like Ravil did when he captured Lucy. I didn’t want her to feel like a prisoner, but she’s already proven herself a runner.
Hopefully she’s just out shopping with my credit card. Proving to me and herself she’s not a prisoner, and she can do what she wants.
“Blyat.” Dima curses in Russian. “She’s in Los Angeles. I’m sending the tracker to your phone.”
Los Angeles.
Again, fuck me. That was where she went to college. She probably went to visit her friends. Or her old haunts.
I kick myself for not knowing more about her. I should have visited her when she was in college in the States. But I had no interest in tangling with her again. Not when she’d fucked me over so badly.
Besides, despite being kicked out of Igor’s cell, I still belonged to him. Which meant she was still considered way off-limits. Not that I had an interest in seducing her.
Or being seduced.
And I knew from experience that even a friendly visit to her could go way off the rails.
Dammit. Looks like I’m going to L. A.
I’m sure she loves this game of chase.
Well, she’s going to discover there are consequences to playing the brat.
I pack a quick bag and put my pistol in a gun case to be checked.
“You want us to go along?” Nikolai asks.
“No. She is my problem. I can deal with her.”
The idea gives me a slight surge of satisfaction. Punishment might be just what we need. I’m a dominant man in bed. I know how to inflict a little pain with pleasure. I could certainly make Sasha pay in a way that’s a win for both of us. Break down her walls and make her beg for satisfaction from me.
Maybe I have too much confidence, but I believe once she surrenders to me sexually, our battle of wills will cease. Right now, her walls are up too high. As long as she refuses to receive pleasure from me, she can continue to fight.
I grab a cab to the airport and get on the next flight out to Los Angeles.