Page 75

Such foreign sounds to me. This place was magical.
Being here with Máxim made me feel things so deeply. Apparently he did as well. I recalled his jealousy from last night with a dark thrill. . . .
Over the last few days, I’d realized that the reason I hadn’t yearned for another relationship wasn’t just because of my circumstances.
I hadn’t yearned because I hadn’t met Maksimilian Sevastyan. He was the yearning. I was in love with the Russian.
Done. Finished. Terminado.
And now that I loved Máxim, I recognized that what I’d felt for Edward had been pale and puny, informed by everything except my heart.
But Máxim was still a player. His longest relationship had lasted for fourteen days—and counting. If a man like him actually settled down with one woman, he’d want her completely in return. He’d expect her to be his. Legally, I still belonged to another.
Oh, me jodí. I was so screwed.
What I wouldn’t give for a do-over. For Edward never even to have counted.
The winds picked up even more, buckets of snow coming down. A real live snowstorm. A gust rattled the windows, the lodge creaking as if we were in a hurricane.
Máxim woke moments later, blinking at me, then slowly smiling—so handsome my heart twisted. In a rumble, he said, “Hey, baby.” He patted his chest for me to return to bed. I rose, dropping my blanket on the way and crawled in naked beside him.
When I laid my head over his heart, he grazed his fingers up and down my spine. “How long have you been up?”
“A bit. I’ve been watching the snowstorm.”
He reached down to lightly cup a cheek. “How are you?”
“I definitely feel what we did. And I regret nothing.”
He resumed stroking my back. “You never do.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “I just don’t with you.”
“Maybe you don’t remember everything.”
“My takeaway from the shower: Is there anything Máxim can’t do? It was wonderful. You were.”
“You, solnyshko, boggled my mind.”
“Me? I just held on for the ride.”
“You’re passionate, and when you do something you leap with both feet.” He curled a finger under my chin, tugging till I faced him. “You’re brave.”
I could make no claim on that. If I was brave, I’d fight for my birthright. I’d put a murderer behind bars. I cast my gaze down. Máxim deserved a brave woman. Wouldn’t a man like him expect one?
“Are you miserable from drink?”
“Not at all. Natalie made me and Jess take her hangover preventative before she sent us off to paint the limo.” We’d guzzled a bottle of Gatorade each, then took a few over-the-counter pills. It’d totally worked, but . . . “I have a sinking suspicion our shoe polish art wasn’t as brilliant as I thought.”
“I got up at dawn and checked it out, in case you two had written ‘eat a dick’ over and over.”
I laughed.
“Luckily, the poem is in place, and it’s passable. Definitely gives the wedding flavor. Did you forget you wrote ‘yo’ at the end?”
“You lie.”
“No, it’s there.”
Nota personal: no tequila with Jess ever again. I made circles with my forefinger over his chest. “Did you enjoy spending time with your brother?”
“He still holds himself back. But I think I do too. I suppose it will take time.”
“As long as it’s happening. Will you please tell me why you two were separated?”
“You didn’t learn anything from Natalie?”
“She was very closemouthed. I had to glean a lot. Will you tell me more?” I leaned up to lay my hands on his face. “I want to know you.”
He gave me a brows-drawn look. “You ask me today, showing the interest I’ve craved—just when Aleksandr advised me last night to tell you my sordid secrets. I can’t understand what this would accomplish. And I can’t believe you would view me the same way.”
“I will.”
“How can you be so certain?” He sat up against the headboard, and I did too.
I drew the cover closer over us. “Because the only way I’d view you differently is if you were pitiless to another, hurting someone who wasn’t as strong as you are.” Edward, Edward, Edward. “And I know you would never do that.”
“It’s an ugly story. My father was . . . abusive. He was part coldblooded schemer, part drunken thug. He used to beat me and my brothers, break bones.”
I just kept my eyes from going wide. “Go on, please.”
“He was always worse in the winter. When I was nine, he killed my mother in a rage.”
Oh, my God. “I’m so sorry, Máxim. Were you there? Did you see?” Witnessing Julia’s death had done a number on me—all that blood everywhere—and I’d hated the woman.
“Dmitri found her body at the foot of the stairs.”
“That’s what’s been haunting him?”
“I wish that were all. It gets worse. Are you sure you want to hear?”
“I’m sure. Please.”
His chest rose and fell on a breath. “Two winters later, my father would’ve killed Aleksandr as well, but my brother defended himself, accidentally ending the old bastard. Certain he’d be sent to prison in Siberia, Aleksandr ran off into the night, leaving Dmitri and myself behind. We were eleven and seven, and believed he’d abandoned us. Only recently I learned that he thought we would be taken in by distant relatives, a thousand times better off.”