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“Starving,” I admitted, taking a seat at the kitchen island. I tried not to grimace as my ass brushed against the seat, but it was hard and if he noticed, he didn’t say anything, which I was grateful for. I held in my sigh of relief.
The stool felt too high, and I found myself swinging my legs a bit.
He plated the omelet and placed it in front of me along with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. “You look very cute today,” he commented, his eyes briefly scanning my outfit.
I self-consciously smoothed the fabric of my dress, feeling suddenly too dressed up for whatever this was. “Yeah, well, it’s what was in the box,” I muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
Maxim leaned against the counter, his gaze thoughtful.
“Riley, about yesterday—” he began, but I quickly cut him off just as my clit throbbed to life.
“It’s fine, Maxim. Really, we don’t have to talk about it,” I said, fidgeting with the napkin on my lap.
“I understand it’s a lot, but I think it’s important you truly understand just who the Orlovs are,” he began.
“And who are they?” I asked.
“They’re not just any regular gang. They’re bratva.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” I answered a bit dryly.
I don’t know why I was provoking him when my ass was still more than a little sore, but despite the fact that his eyes flashed for a second, he ignored my little outburst.
“It’s more than that. They’re incredibly dangerous. They’re involved in everything from arms trafficking to money laundering. They have a hand in half the underground activities in the city.”
“And now they’re my problem too?” I said a bit sullenly.
“Yes,” Maxim affirmed, his tone apologetic yet firm. “That’s why it’s critical you stay close until we figure this out. Staying here with me is the only way I can keep you safe. Does that make sense?”
I lifted my eyes and searched his gaze. What was he insinuating? Did he really want me here after all? Was this something else? Why did he care?
“I don’t want to be a burden,” I countered, and his eyes grew stormy with rage.
“Never say that again, little girl. You are no one’s burden, not now. Not ever.”
I looked down at my plate, still wrestling with the mixture of feelings his close proximity stirred in me.
“You are smart, extraordinarily so, and cunning. Yes, you are defiant,” he added, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “but that’s not a fault. It’s one of the things that makes you one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.”
His words took me by surprise. It was strange to hear praise like that. I’d never heard anything like it in my life.
“Now, if I ever have to remind you of that again, I’ll use this wooden spatula on your bare little bottom. Do you understand me?”
He held up the implement in question and I shifted in my seat, my eyes glued to the wooden thing. My ass was already sore enough.
I didn’t provoke him. Not this time.
“Yes, sir,” I murmured, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I’m not used to… that. People saying good things about me.”
Maxim watched me with an intensity that made my heart pound just a little bit faster. His eyes darkened and the stormy blue of them seemed to draw me right back in.
“Well, you better start getting used to it,” he said, his voice laced with a light humor that somehow made the kitchen feel less like a battleground and more like a sanctuary, although I hesitated to call it that.
“Because as long as you’re here, I’m going to make sure you see yourself the way I see you,” he continued.
My heart nearly leapt up into my throat.
The way he saw me?
