Page 49 of Silent Ties
But I’m not secreting myself out of an underground bunker. I have a point to prove.
Of course, Max appears confused. It’s the docile side of me he likes and the one he sees the most. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes never leaving me. I’m momentarily left feeling naked in the pair of trousers I picked out.
But I don’t crumble under his gaze.
“Mrs. Zimin,” Sergei calls out.
I take a deep breath, walking past my husband to collect my purse.
“Russ.” His fingers catch my wrist. I expect him to tell me I don’t have to do this. “You’ll need your coat.”
He helps me and then laces our hands together, walking me to the elevator. He presses a button that’s rarely used and we travel to the ground floor instead of the garage.
Pavel and the SUV wait at the curb. The sidewalks of New York City are unchanged and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
“Russ.” The car door is open, but Max stops me.
For a second I wish he’d come with me, but I know it’s a pipedream. He’s still unreadable in a lot of ways. His face is blank and emotionless when he uses his thumb and pointer finger to lift my chin. He lays a kiss on my lips, the first time outside of our wedding he’s ever kissed me on the lips unless it’s in the middle of sex.
This kiss is different. It’s gentle. The man normally trying to break me is sweet for once.
Or mostly. He swats my ass, prompting me to get in the car, and slams the door without another word.
Pavel smoothly pulls away from the curb. In a mixture of cliché and cinematic I turn back to where Max remains on the curb. Wind sweeps his hair up and he sticks his hands in his pockets. He didn’t grab a coat and his shoulders shudder since he’s not immune to the weather.
It’s a powerful reminder that my husband is human after all.
CHAPTER 14
Russet
Unimpressed by my bravery, Yelena refuses to allow me to eat a burger. She does however order us wine which is something.
Blue bruises line her lower lashes, proof that the long night got to her too. It means she’s too tired for her normal bitchy small talk. I chalk it up as a win.
Especially when I spot Lennie Akatov walking to a table. Her mother isn’t with her, but there’s another woman, and the family resemblance is strong. I know she has multiple sisters but I’m not sure where she falls in the mix.
She’s tucked into a back corner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she chose to sit by the wall so she could hide the scar on her cheek.
When she stands up, I excuse myself.
I’m at the row of sinks when Lennie steps out of a bathroom stall.
“Hi. Are you. . .”
I lean my hip against the sink. “Everyone knows your dad loves your mom. Otherwise, I’d ask if you knew any of the girls.”
Marissa sent him a girl one time and he laughed. Then kindly sent her on her way.
Lennie chews the inside of her lip. “And you did?”
“Yeah.” There’s no point in denying it. “Can I borrow your phone?”
The tap runs, her hands covered in soap suds. She blinks up, then leans back over the sink.
“Please,” I ask. There’s not much time. This place is always booming during the lunch crowd and the bathroom acts as a hive for women primping and prepping.
“Will it start World War III?” she warily asks.
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