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Chapter 7
Maksim~
While Karik had left some time ago, I had decided to stick around and have a few drinks. By his accounts, Kyle Michaelson had seen the light, and Mindy was being well taken care of. Of course, that didn’t mean that I was going to pull his detail, but I felt better about the little girl. Right now, all that was left was to get Mindy’s mother a better job, and then we’d see where things would go from there.
At any rate, when I had decided to stick around and just relax for a moment, I hadn’t expected her to walk through the front doors of The Swan. Now, while the scenery in here was always that of beautiful and built women, it hadn’t been her face or body that had caught my eye. Truth be told, a beautiful face could be achieved with the right makeup, and a perfect body could be achieved with a great plastic surgeon, so neither achievement was impressive to me, though I could appreciate the effort.
Anyway, it’d been her eyes that had drawn me in, and I was curious to know if the color was real or if she wore contacts. Even from where I was sitting, when she had looked up at the waitress to order her drink, I could see how bright her yellow orbs had been. They looked like liquid gold, and if they were real, then that was a miracle in itself. Many women did their makeup to give them that doll-eyed look, and now I could understand why.
From where I’d been observing her, without the heels, she looked to be around five-foot-three, and that frame of hers was overflowing with curves upon curves. She was wearing a dark grey dress that fell just above her knees, and I liked that. I liked how she’d chosen classy over obvious, because there was just something about unwrapping gifts. Her black heels also matched her black purse and the black strands of silk that were hanging loosely down to the middle of her back. While The Swan wasn’t exactly classy, it also wasn’t a dive bar; it was something in between.
As I stared at her, I realized that I wasn’t everyone’s type, and it was very possible that she was waiting for someone, though if she was, that man was a fool to allow her out of his sight. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, and any man that let her run around freely didn’t deserve her. Of course, as she pulled out her phone, then fired off a message, she could also be meeting a friend of hers.
Still, as I’d been deciding whether I should approach her or not, I notice one of the men from the bar make his way over to her table, and when he immediately sat down, I no longer cared if she was waiting for someone or not. If she was going to go home with anyone tonight, it was going to be me.
Grabbing my drink, I stood up, then walked over to the table, and as soon as they both noticed me, I slid my eyes to the left, then told the man, “I can see that you are lost. Would you like my help finding your way back to the bar?”
As predicted, his face lost all color as he began stammering, knowing exactly who I was. “Uh…yeah, no…I know my way…thanks.”
The second that he vacated his seat, I sat down, and the beauty sitting across from me just stared at me, and with her face giving nothing away, I wasn’t sure if she was impressed or horrified. Of course, as soon as I introduced myself, I’d find out.
“Do you do that often?” she asked, her voice sounding like sex slithering down a stripper pole.
“No,” I answered honestly. “However, I saw you first.”
She arched a brow as her head reared back a bit. “Like a little boy that doesn’t like sharing his toys?”
I set my glass on the table. “More like a grown man that knows what he wants.”
Her amber-colored eyes slid over my face, then down to my chest, and though I was wearing a jacket that covered everything, there was still no mistaking all the tattoos that were visible outside the neckline of my shirt. If I wasn’t her type, then that would be a shame. Nevertheless, I was secure enough in my manhood to not take rejection personally.
“What is your name?” I finally asked.
“Katja,” she answered, and though she had no Russian accent to speak of, her name gave away her heritage clearly enough.
“And what is your last name, Katja?”
“Volkov,” she answered, proving further that she was of Russian descent.
“I am Maksim Barychev,” I told her, and a bit of apprehension flashed in those golden orbs of hers.
“Yes, I know,” she answered, surprising me a bit.
My eyes narrowed. “And how do you know?”
“I’ve lived in Port Townsend all my life,” she answered. “It’s kind of hard to live here and not know who you are. The Kotovs as well.”
While her answer was valid, something was off. Though my reputation was legendary, my face wasn’t as popular as you’d think. I didn’t mingle with the population of Port Townsend much, and whenever I was out and about, it was usually during the cover of night. For the most part, I only associated with my bratva brothers, so even if she’d heard of me, recognizing my face was something entirely different. Plus, who did she know that would point me out to her? Because I knew for a fact that I’d never seen this woman in all my thirty-five years; it would be impossible to forget her eyes.
Trusting my instincts, I asked, “What brings you to The Swan tonight, Katja?”
“I was supposed to meet my friend here to celebrate her promotion at work, but she just texted me that she has to cancel,” she lied.
Staring at her, not only was my intelligence above average, but I also knew how to read people, and Katja Volkov was lying to me. Now that I knew that something was off, all the signs were there. Her body language was giving her away, and had I not been so enraptured with those damn eyes of hers, then I would have noticed her nervousness sooner.
“That’s a shame,” I remarked evenly as I leaned back in the seat, grabbing my glass to take another drink of the clear liquid.
Before she could say anything, the waitress was back with a single glass of red wine, and that just had me more suspicious. A celebration that required wine would not take place in an establishment like The Swan. If what she’d said was true, then they would have chosen someplace that would have resembled a restaurant more than a bar.
