I manage to escape Viktor’s consistent shadowing since he’s busy supervising the others, and slip into the house.
Not long after, I catch a glimpse of Maksim jogging down the hall, shouting, “Gonna bring some refreshments. Go on ahead of me.”
Ahead of me.
I wait for a few moments after Maksim disappears in the direction of the kitchen, then head the opposite way.
Turns out, the place where Maksim wanted Sasha to go ahead of him is the sauna.
I halt and shove a hand in my pocket, then slide my glasses up my nose. Is this woman planning on sweating in the sauna with…Maksim?
It takes me a couple of minutes to try and ease the fire that’s mounting in my chest. I partially fail, because when Maksim reappears, two drinks in hand, I honestly wonder why I shouldn’t snap his neck.
“Boss,” he says with bewilderment. “You need anything?”
“Yes. I need you to go investigate Igor and his men. Take Yuri with you.”
“Now?”
“When else?”
“Uh…let me at least take these to Sasha and tell him I have to go.”
I subtly take the drinks from his hands. “I’ll do it. Go.”
He doesn’t appear happy with the order, but he does leave, even though it takes him a moment, and he looks back at me as if contemplating if someone is impersonating me.
Maksim has been with me all his life, and he knows that I never bring drinks, hold them, or even offer to serve them. So this scene must look alien to him.
Once I make sure he’s gone, I push the door to the sauna’s locker room open, then place the drinks on the bench and turn the lock from the inside.
The locker room appears empty, but then there’s a commotion in one of the bathrooms—a rustle of clothes and a low curse.
“One moment, Maks!” she calls. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
Maks.
That’s what she calls him when they’re alone.
Fucking Maks.
The only reason I don’t break the door to the bathroom open is because I have a better plan.
I remove my shirt, shoes, pants, and boxer briefs, then hang them in one of the lockers. After I wrap a towel around my waist, I head to the sauna and add more charcoal to the pit, making it unbearably hot.
Then I lounge on the wooden bench, watching the entrance. A few minutes later, Sasha appears at the door, wearing a bathrobe. Her hair is longer now, falling to her nape. Usually, she ties it in a small ponytail, but not right now.
Even with her head lowered as she focuses on tying the belt, she looks every bit the woman she’s spent a lot of time and effort to hide.
“This is the first time I’ve done this. Promise it won’t be too hot?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
Her head whips up, and I revel in the way her lips part and her skin turns a deep shade of red in a fraction of a second.
Patience is my strongest attribute, but that doesn’t seem to be the case when it comes to this woman.
It’s time she knows exactly why she shouldn’t fuck with me.