SWNOVELS When He Takes: Chapter 17
It’s official. Nero is driving me insane. He knows exactly how to get under my skin with his words and his touch.
If it wasn’t for this thing with Maksim giving me a way out, I’m not sure what I would allow my husband to do to me. Because with every passing minute in his presence, a little voice in my head wonders if it really would be so bad to give in.
I promised myself I wouldn’t. My mind knows that I shouldn’t.
But my body doesn’t seem to care about any of that.
How I wish that I still hated Nero with the same intensity as when he drove me to New York!
But I don’t.
And Nero can sense it, can’t he?
What if you give in just once?
No, it’s never just once. That’s how it starts, and then it happens “just once” again and again.
It’s not like Nero is some stranger from a bar, and after we sleep together, he’ll just go on his merry way, and I’ll never see him again.
We live together. He’s my fricking husband. A husband who wants to repair our relationship. A husband who’s shown me he’s willing to die for me.
A heavy weight lodges inside my belly. I keep comparing Nero to my father, comparing my story to my mother’s, but my dad would never have laid down his life for my mom. For his kids. For his family.
Nero is…different.
I clutch my purse close to my chest as I walk out of the ballroom.
He might be different in some ways, but he’s still a criminal. I can’t forget that. And I can’t risk doing anything that will shake the walls I have erected around my heart. The walls that already feel like they’re crumbling, which only makes it more urgent that I get the hell out of this place before I lose myself even more.
I roll my shoulders back, force myself to breathe, and amble around the showroom for a few minutes, stopping by the glass displays to look at the items enclosed. The starting bids aren’t shown, but they’re listed in the app I scrolled through on the drive over, and they’re not for the faint of heart. Our tickets alone were ten grand apiece.
With the dinner still in progress, there are only a few people here. I wait until the couple standing close to Maksim drift away.
He’s older—in his forties—and well groomed. The tailoring on his pinstripe suit is precise and flattering. This is a man who takes pride in his appearance.
The sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor alerts him to my approach. As I stop across from him, his gaze lifts to meet mine over the top of the display.
He considers me for a moment before asking, “Are you a collector?”
“No,” I reply with a smile. “Just a book lover.”
“That’s how it starts,” he says, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I must compliment your intuition. You’re looking at a second-edition Eugene Onegin by Pushkin, the greatest Russian poet who ever lived. Have you read any of his work?”
“I haven’t.”
He tsks. “You must. The translations are never as good as the original, but there’s some literature that simply cannot be ignored.” He drags his thumb over his mustache. “I was prepared to love the world, but no one understood me, so I learned to hate.”
Goosebumps scatter over the backs of my arms. “A quote?”
“Indeed. Onegin was a cynic, disillusioned with society.” He steps around the display, his eyes gliding over me with a subtle, unnerving interest. I feel a sticky unease creeping over my skin.
“That’s a beautiful dress,” he murmurs.
“Thank you.”
Without asking, he reaches into my personal space and flicks his finger over the beaded moon embroidered on my hip. “I’m a man who appreciates good craftsmanship.”
I force myself to stay still, resisting the urge to step back.
“You must give me the name of the designer so I can get something for my wife. I promised her a gift tonight, but nothing at the auction has caught her eye.”
I swallow, hoping he can’t sense the deception beneath my uncertain smile. “My husband wants to get me something too. I haven’t picked yet.” My gaze drifts back to the old book.
“I’m afraid it won’t be the Pushkin. I’ve been waiting to add him to my collection for a very long time, and tonight is the night.”
“What if someone outbids you?”
“They won’t.” He clasps his hands, contemplating the book with quiet confidence. “When I see something I want, I always find a way to get it.” His gaze slides back to me, and my instincts flare, warning me of the predator behind his polished exterior.
This man is dangerous. It’s not that I didn’t already know that, but now I feel it.
A drop of cold sweat rolls down the valley of my spine.
“So where is your husband?” Maksim asks.
“Finishing his meal. I was too excited to wait.”
“It’s better to look at everything when there aren’t so many people around. I dislike crowds, but even they weren’t enough to keep me away tonight. Did you know there are only ten known copies of this edition left on the planet?”
That would explain why the bidding on the book starts at three hundred thousand dollars.
“I had no ide—”
“Maks! There you are.”
A dark-haired woman teeters over to us.
Ekaterina.
She’s got a glass in one hand, and judging by her unsteady balance, it’s far from the first one she’s had tonight.
Maksim’s lips thin for a moment, but when Ekaterina reaches us, he masks his irritation with an obliging smile.
He clasps her by the elbow to steady her. “This is my wife, Ekaterina. Kotik, meet my new friend…” he trails off, obviously expecting me to fill in the blank. We haven’t exchanged names.
“Blake.”
Ekaterina eyes me with suspicion. “Nice to meet you.” Her accent is heavier than Maksim’s. “Dorogoy, chto ty tut delayesh’? Ya uzhe nachala volnovat’sya.”
Maksim sighs. “Pochemu? Ya zhe tebe uzhe govoril pro knigu. Posmotri syuda.” He points at the book and then lifts his gaze to me. “Ty vidish’, kakaya ona krasivaya?”
Ekaterina scoffs at the display case. “Gospodi. Kniga kak kniga. Zachem tebe eto nuzhno?”
I have no idea what they’re saying, but their body language and the way Maksim rolls his eyes at his wife suggest she’s managed to annoy him. I wonder if the stress of not knowing where they stand with the pakhan has put a strain on their relationship or if they’ve always been like this. Vita made it sound like they married for political reasons.
Maksim drags his tongue over his upper teeth. “My wife doesn’t appreciate literature the way we do.”
Ekaterina reddens and narrows her eyes at me as if I’m guilty of something.
My nerves spike. This isn’t good. The goal was to make friendly contact with the two of them, not piss Ekaterina off.
I give her a smile. “That’s all right. I love meeting people with different passions from mine. The world would be boring if we were all interested in the same things, wouldn’t it?”
Ekaterina’s brows pinch together. “How nice.” She unlaces her arm from Maksim’s and takes a step back to look past him. “Did you already look at that Swiss pocket watch we talked about? My dolzhny ikh dostat’ dlya Slavy. Yemu ponravitsya.”
My ears perk up at “Slava.” That’s the short form for Yaroslav—the pakhan.
Just then, I spot Nero under the arched vestibule that connects the two rooms, and I give him a wave.
Maksim glances over his shoulder. “Is that your husband?”
“He’s very tall,” Ekaterina notes as Nero moves toward us. There’s a hint of appreciation in her tone that I don’t like.
Maksim doesn’t appear to notice it though. His eyes stay glued on Nero, and a notch appears between his brows.
He recognizes him.
My nape begins to prickle. His reaction once Nero introduces himself is important. If he turns hostile, the whole plan might fall apart.
Nero arrives at my side, slipping his arm around my waist. “Hey, baby. Having a good time?”
Ekaterina’s eyes flare with interest, and without thinking, I get on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Nero’s cheek. “I am.”
Nero’s grip tightens slightly as he shifts his attention to Maksim. “Thank you for keeping my wife company.”
Maksim sizes him up. “It’s been my pleasure.”
For a moment, tension coils in the air, and I half expect Ekaterina to bristle at Maksim’s words, but her gaze is fixed on Nero with an almost predatory curiosity. I can practically see the hearts dancing in her eyes.
That green monster wakes again.
What is it about this man that brings out my jealous side? I never felt this way with Brett, even though plenty of women liked to ogle him too.
Nero extends a hand toward Maksim. “Nero De Luca.”
Maksim accepts the handshake with deliberate slowness. “I know who you are.”
“Have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so, but you’re a famous man among some circles.”
Understanding flashes in Nero’s eyes. “And you are?”
Maksim cocks his head to one side. “Maksim Garin.”
“Ah.” The single syllable hangs in the air, dropping the temperature a few degrees. “And here I thought we might make some new friends tonight.”
“You used to be a man with many friends,” Maksim counters, his tone lightly mocking.
Nero shrugs. “Things change.”
“I suppose they do. You’ve only recently returned, right? For a while, word on the street was that you were dead.”
“I know. I helped start those rumors.”
Maksim chuckles. “But you discovered life’s charms once more?”
“Something like that.” Nero takes a sip out of the tumbler in his hand. “Although this isn’t quite the life I imagined I’d return to,” he says under his breath.
My heart picks up speed. He’s just thrown the bait.
Maksim’s smile remains frozen, but his eyes narrow. “Things change quickly in New York. We heard you’ve got a new boss now.”
“It’s no secret,” Nero says easily. “I was…reassigned.”
“Ferraro’s known for holding grudges.”
Nero’s response is a tight smile. He’s playing this perfectly. He can’t seem too eager to complain, or it will be obvious.
Maksim lets the silence linger for a few moments. He wants to see if Nero will volunteer something else. Vita’s advice rings inside my ears. “Don’t let them coax things out of you. Say your part, and then shut up.”
“Well, life can’t be too unpleasant with such a magnificent wife by your side,” Maksim says finally, breaking the tension with a nod in my direction.
Ekaterina sighs dramatically, rummaging through her tiny purse for her phone.
Nero draws me closer. “She does make even the most difficult situations bearable.”
“I’ll bet—”
“Maks, Angelica and her husband are here,” Ekaterina interrupts, her tone laced with impatience. “We have to go say hello.”
“Of course, Kotik.” Maksim clears his throat. “Well, enjoy the rest of your night.”
“You too,” Nero says, watching them retreat into the crowd.
I wait until they’re far enough away that they won’t overhear, and I turn to Nero. “Do you think that worked?”
His gaze is glued to the back of Maksim’s head. “We’ll find out soon enough.”