I felt like some kind of Roman noble woman who should have been lounging back being fed grapes when the courses kept on coming.
Duck came next. Perfectly cooked breasts with crispy skin and the meat still pink in the middle. It all but melted when I bit into it.
“I could get used to this, Maxim.”
“You should. When we go to Russia, I’m going to employ a chef and he will make you whatever you want to eat, whenever you want it.”
I propped my chin on my hand, grinning at him across the table. “Even if I want rice pudding, or baked beans on toast.”
He laughed. “Even if you want butterscotch Angel Delight.”
“That sounds perfect.” And it did. I loved that we could have all this, experience all these things, but still go home and just be us. I wouldn’t have wanted champagne and jet-setting every day of the week.
By the time Philippe brought out a plate of delicate little pastries and cakes, carefully stacked with cream and layered with chocolate, I was close to bursting.
Still, I couldn’t say no when Maxim forked off a morsel and held it out to me across the table. I licked my lips to make sure I got all the cream and Maxim cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.
“You’re a devilish little minx, Elizabeth.”
I laughed and reached out to scoop another forkful of chocolate and cream. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Mr Toropov.”
CHAPTER 34
Elizabeth
I was a little surprised when Maxim took us back to Greenwich from the airport instead of to the Knightsbridge apartment, but it was where we went, right after Maxim called Valentin to tell him that Alaman was going to play ball.
Everything Pierce had set in motion unwittingly to threaten the Bratva had come to a close, and I was free. Maxim and I could do as we pleased, at least for a little while.
When he opened the door to his apartment, it felt like coming home.
“I grew up here,” Maxim said, looking faintly pleased with himself as he set the suitcase down and surveyed the living room. It might not have been all that grand, but it was his and I absolutely understood the appeal of that. As of that moment, I had precisely nowhere that I could call my own.
“When we came over from Russia, it was all we could afford. And Papa and I, we decorated it all. He showed me how to put the wall paper up. Taught me never to pay a man for something you could do yourself.” He shrugged. “That was my Papa all over.”
“What was his name?”
“Alexei.” Maxim’s whole face warmed when he talked about him and his eyes softened in a way I didn’t often see. It was an expression I recognized only from when we were alone together.
I smiled. “I like that name.”
“It’s a good Russian name for a good Russian man. He did the best thing for his family. He always made sure to do that. He taught me how to survive. He said that it was best I learned how to fit in, here, in London. In the West.”
“Was it really very different.”
Maxim let out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, you have no idea. In Russia if you didn’t learn to bribe the right people, you starved. Holding onto what we had when someone more important wanted it. It was never going to happen. It’s only thanks to the Bratva we got out alive.”
I reached out to trace my fingers over his face, and down to the scarring I knew was on the side of his chest. “This happened when you were a boy.”
It wasn’t a question. I knew that for certain now, and I felt a well of sympathy rise in me for the little boy he’d been. Was that why we understood each other so well? We’d faced things in our childhoods that some adults never have.
“Yes.” His frown crumpled his brows together and he shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”
“I know,” I said softly, but knowing that didn’t stop the protective surge I felt towards the little boy he had been, and the man he was now. Maxim was bigger than me and stronger than me in every way and I had no doubt he would protect me in all the ways that he could for all the days that we were together, but that impulse didn’t go one way. He was mine, and I wanted to keep him safe, keep him whole.
Listening to Maxim talk I got the sense it wasn’t something he talked about easily or often and I was touched that he was choosing to share it with me.
“What happened to your father?” I asked softly, when he came to a stop.
Maxim blinked like he’d only just realised he had an audience and he was seeing me there for the first time. His eyebrows drew together again, and he shook his head. “He went back to St Petersburg to try and get what was his.”