Page 12 of The Crimson Lily

Dinner? Oh, yes, we’ll need food before the reception.

Is he asking me to have dinner with him?

The thought crosses my mind, then I blush again.

Why am I even blushing? The idea of sitting at the table with him is…

?intriguing. However, the migraine rings in my head, reminding me of last night’s brawl.

My eyes round as I look at him, resting on the chair in his jeans and black shirt that’s too tight around his arms. I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, returning to a catatonic state.

“You can order pasta again,” he replies with a smirk.

Oh, the pasta funghi, billed on the room. Oops. “I’ll pay you back for that,” I promise.

He motions for me to stop talking, so I comply. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and his presence here makes the heat in my blood rise. He stands and heads for the exit. I guess he’s not planning on a restaurant after all. I feel foolish for feeling disappointed.

“Wait,” I call before he passes the threshold. “No restaurant?” I have to ask.

Maksim chuckles but doesn’t turn around. He must see right through me. “I’m not one for restaurants,” he declares, stern and unmoved.

He walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

I’m alone, feeling duped and unsure. Should I be waiting for him to pick me up later?

Should I head out alone to the Westin Vend?me?

This guy isn’t making it easy for me. Maybe he should talk a little more and be clearer!

Be more specific, more explicit. I’m now getting angry at Maksim.

I pace around the room again, anxious about the night to come, creating ten different scenarios in my head about what’s going to happen.

I see William’s face flash before my eyes.

I know I’m going to see him again tonight, and I really don’t want to.

At this moment, I realize I have no idea what Maksim is planning on doing tonight, or why we are even going there.

I figure there’s something he needs there; he wouldn’t be going just for fun.

If Maksim isn’t one for restaurants, he probably isn’t one for receptions either.

The Westin Vend?me is the prestigious hotel facing the Tuileries Garden. It was designed to be the most luxurious hotel in Paris of all time. I searched on Google what sort of place this was going to be. I felt like a princess in the Opera hotel before. Now this is a place for a queen.

I took a taxi to get here, primarily because now, for the first time I can remember, I am wearing high heels.

I spent the time from early dinner until 7:45 p.m. treading, practicing, walking, and attempting some dance moves, even if I have no idea whether there’s going to be any dancing.

I wetted my hair and brushed it while using the hair dryer to make it less wavy.

Now I have a smooth black mane flowing to the left side of my neck, reaching below my chest. I followed a YouTube tutorial on how to apply mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick to make yourself look prettier .

I didn’t need foundation to cover my skin.

Whatever bruise I had is gone. Since I didn’t recognize myself anymore, I decided to leave the eyeshadow for another time.

My heels are clicking on the pavement. I miss out on twisting my ankles at least a dozen times, but I’m getting better at it as I walk up to the red carpet leading to the Westin’s entrance.

It’s like going to the Oscars. I stand underneath the archway, waiting, observing the many people in fancy clothing that queue up in line.

I look around, searching for my date, but my favorite Russian man is nowhere to be seen.

I wait. Watching the many beautiful women in the line, I realize I could have done better regarding my purse choice.

I really should have bought one that matched.

All these ladies have done a perfect job of matching everything they’re wearing, much better than I.

I stand to the side of the line, almost leaning against one of the pillars, when I hear his husky voice right next to me.

“With this dress, there’s no way you’ll go unnoticed,” he says in my ear.

I gasp, then finish with a soft chuckle. Maksim walked up to me from the street, and I didn’t even see him! I must have been too focused on the people in the line to notice. I turn to him, and our eyes make four.

For a brief moment, I could almost melt in the ocean of his eyes.

He looks perfect. A black suit impeccably cut for his massive size.

A white shirt and black tie. A clean shave.

His jaw and cheekbones still look like they were sculpted by gods, and his black hair is brushed back like when I met him at the airport.

And his smell…?oh, his smell! It reminds me that I’m not wearing any perfume!

His smell is enticing. Inebriating. Everything you’d expect from a man’s cologne and everything you would not.

A sweet mixture of pines, mountains, summits.

I instinctively close my eyes and inhale silently so he doesn’t notice.

When I open them again, his gaze has not left me.

He’s so close, just within reach. His blue eyes have regained their silver spark.

He brings his hand to my waist. I actually believe he’s going in for a kiss, but he makes me turn to the line instead.

I think I wanted him to kiss me. In this short moment of rapture, I forgot everything about the past few days.

Everything about him, who he is, and…?the things he’s done.

Maksim holds his hand on the arch of my back with a gentleman’s touch. He keeps it close to my bare skin, all the way to the hotel’s entrance, where a bald man in a red uniform greets him and asks him for our names.

“Kovalyov,” Maksim says.

The man smiles and checks his very large leather book. After sliding a finger down the list of Ks, he looks back at us with a big smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Kovalyov. I hope you had a good trip to Paris!” the man exclaims with a French accent as big as his smile. “Are you from Moscow?”

Maksim nods with a confirming smirk.

“All right, may you and your wife enjoy the evening at the Westin Vend?me,” he wishes, with a motion for us to enter. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

Got it. I’m his wife now. That last part sends strange shivers down my spine.

Especially since Maksim has his arm around me and is not letting me go.

How chivalrous of him. As I am at least three inches taller on my black pumps, he has easier access to my middle and hips.

We enter the Westin and follow the people who make their way to the ballroom, past the garden area and beyond the red carpet.

We walk by an unending series of adorned columns supporting a ceiling of a thousand Renaissance paintings—golden frames, curtains in shades of crimson, crystal chandeliers that shimmer like suns.

There’s a room with a red and gray floor where some artists display their latest creations.

There’s another room with purple lighting on the walls, where the music is upbeat and fresh.

Finally, there is the ballroom, and my jaw literally drops as we enter.

It is astonishingly beautiful.

I had no idea art receptions were held in such an extraordinary place! The red carpet with squares of white and brown extends beyond my field of view. The golden lighting simply makes this place look surreal.

“Wow!” I say spontaneously. “It’s like we’re in a movie.”

I watched a lot of Netflix movies during the course of these last two months to be able to say that. I hear a faint chuckle coming from his mouth.

“It is supposed to be the most beautiful place in Paris,” he says with a smile.

I lift my face to him and search his eyes. “I mean…” My head bounces left and right. “This whole place is almost like a mini Louvre!”

I feel so thrilled to be here, so fascinated and captivated by the view that I am almost laughing with excitement. Maksim smiles with me.

“Now, zaya , don’t exhaust your eyes just yet,” he says in the most charming of tones. “The party hasn’t even started.”

This is the first time I hear Maksim say more than ten words in a row.

That realization suddenly hits me. And he has such a dashing smile doing it.

What the hell is going on? Has previous Maksim been exchanged for a new, devilishly handsome, and gallant one?

I have to take advantage of the situation.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, pursing my lips, tasting my fruity lipstick and regretting it.

He chuckles again and pulls me in closer to him. I’m almost touching his torso with my chest.

“There are some people here with information about where your boss keeps his dagger,” he begins to explain with a whisper in my ear. “I need to get that information, and you’re going to help me.”

I gasp a little because he’s fully pressed me against him as people pass by us. We have to step a few feet out of the way as a swarm of more and more fancy clothes rush into the room. I am now completely curled up against his athletic chest. I can almost hear his heartbeat.

Mine has stopped.

Among the latest batch of people is the man whose name still makes me cringe.

William de Loit walks in wearing a midnight-blue suit, accompanied by two women in cocktail dresses and Mr. Zhang, whom I immediately recognize.

Maksim must sense how my body has stiffened because I feel a soft caress on my skin.

Once William is out of sight, Maksim releases me and turns to face me.

“So, Liliana, how do you suggest we proceed?” he asks.

Darn it! Hearing him say my name is just—no, stop it, Liliana, stop going there.

I take a deep breath and think for a second before I wonder why I have to be the one making the plan. “You tell me! You’re the one who has experience with this.”