We’re quiet as we drive back up to the house. I follow Max to the back door, and he holds it open for me, and we walk together to the stairs. Both of us hesitate at the same moment, and Max glances toward one of the doors on the lower floor.
“Well, I–”
“Sure. I’ll just go upstairs and–”
We speak at the same time and stop at the same time, both of us staring at each other. I can feel the tension shimmering in the air, and I catch a glimpse of Max’s hands flexing, the small muscle in his jaw leaping, as if he’s holding himself back.
I feel rooted to the spot, but I force my feet to move up the stairs to my room, resisting with every step the urge to rush back down to him and tell him how I’m feeling.
But he already knows, and saying it aloud won’t change anything.
7
MAX
Sasha is on my mind for the rest of the day.
I know that following up on my promise of a wine-tasting after dinner is a bad idea. The tension between us was palpable all day, and I knew without a doubt where her mind was going every time she drifted off as I’d shown her around the estate.
I’d known because mine was going to a similar place. Being near her, spending a day with her again, felt like what I imagined a drug must feel like. It felt intoxicating.
I hadn’t known the meaning of desire before I knew Sasha. Not just physical desire, though, that feels almost unbearable–but the desire to bewithher. To talk to her and spend time with her. Every moment, every laugh, and every conversation felt like the best one of my life.
She feelsright. Like my best friend and the woman I want more than I want to breathe all rolled into one–and in my most difficult moments, I can’t help wondering if Levin is right. If I’m throwing away the chance at happiness with both hands over vows that should mean nothing to me any longer.
Just being with her makes me happy. But how couldImakeherhappy? Not just now, but over the years? My past will always follow me. My life will always be tied to my wrongdoings, to my name, and to the possibility that it will haunt me. And all I want is for Sasha to leave this behind. I’ve selfishly enjoyed her position in Viktor’s house because it meant that I’ve gotten to see her more often, causing our friendship to deepen. Still, I know it would be best for her to leave that behind, too. The further she can get from our world of crime and power, the better.
I don’t want to see it devour her as it’s devoured so many others.
It’s hard to shake the thoughts, especially as I don’t have much todohere. Once upon a time, I would have been thrilled to have so much leisure, but now it feels as if I have no way out of my own head, and no timeline as to when we’ll be able to go back.
This problem, thisdangeris mine, and yet I’m here while others handle it for me.I should have left her with Viktor,I think over and over again.Ishould have gone after him myself.But Viktor had ordered me here, and like the second son that I am, I followed orders–just as I always have.
I know the rest of it, too, deep down–I hadn’t wanted more blood on my hands. I can hear Levin’s voice in my head at that silent admission, chastising me.Your devotion to the past makes you weak. You’ve taken one life already, and helped with another. Do you think you can change that by not doing what needs to be done to protect those around you?
I know what he thinks of me, what Viktor thinks of me. As for Sasha–
She might be the only one in the world who loves me exactly as I am, despite my failings, and yet–those same vows keep me away from her. That same devotion to myself and my promise to protect her, prevents what we both want.
I grit my teeth, slamming my hand down on the nearest surface–which happens to be the bar cart. The crystal glasses shudder, one tipping over the side and crashing onto the smooth wooden floor, glass shattering and spraying across the hardwood.
“Shit!” I growl under my breath, looking around for something to clean it up with. I don’t want to bother Giana with it, and truthfully, I’m in no mood to talk to anyone else right now.
I end up make shifting a couple of pieces of paper into a means by which to sweep it up and scoop it into the trash. That doesn’t stop a few fragments from skating over my hand, sending small thin rivulets of blood trickling down my skin.
Ironic.In my old life, it might have been called a sign. In this present moment, all I can do is stare down at the red stains, feeling suddenly exhausted.
I’m going in circles.
I half expect to run into Sasha as I head upstairs to clean my hand, but thankfully she’s nowhere to be seen, which saves me from having to explain myself. I clean and bandage the cuts to staunch the bleeding and flop down onto the wide empty bed in the adjoining bedroom, staring up at the ceiling.
I never knew time could move so slowly and so quickly all at once.My afternoon with Sasha had gone by in a flash, but the days ahead seem to stretch out in front of me, a never-ending circle of uncertainty and temptation.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I wake with a start after the sun has already gone down to a soft knocking at my door. “Max?”
Sasha’s voice comes softly through, and I push myself up, blinking away sleep. “Max, Giana said dinner will be ready soon.”
I clear my throat, rubbing my hands over my face in an effort to rub away that odd, unsteady feeling that often comes with an unexpected nap. “I’ll be right down.”