That stopped me in my tracks as I stepped back a few feet to put some distance between us. "Why would Dimitri do that?"
"You can't possibly be that naïve, not after the life you've lived. You're not goin' to try to convince me this is a love match, are ya? I'm not stupid. You're doin' somethin' for 'em and that bastard is famous for . . . cuttin' loose ends, so to speak." His blue-green eyes glared at me with a pained look on his face. "You can't trust Max anymore than you can trust his mentor. If he has no feelings for you then he will do what he's told like a good soldier. I only hope you're able to have the effect on him as you do most men."
I chuckled as I shook my head with amusement. "Come on, Edward. You're making me sound like a femme fatale and we both know I'm certainly not that."
Even as I turned and started to walk away, I could still hear his voice as he said, "Oh, but you are . . . you're a drop dead gorgeous bitch with a tattered soul and a beautiful body made for sin. In fact, you shouldn't be scared of them-come to think of it-they should be terrified of you. If I have learned anything about life, there's nothing more frightening or dangerous than a woman scorned."
Chapter Eight
Maxwell
Max could barely hide how livid he actually was but when he walked out of his bedroom, fresh from a shower and changed into clean clothes, Mags was no where to be found.
At first he panicked. She could have just gotten into the Mini Cooper he gave her and drove away. After all, she was free as bird and could start a new life anywhere, obtain documentation and live a very happy and carefree life as Jane Doe.
However, he didn't let his pride get the best of him and a part of him innately understood she would be back. Like most mammals, she was a creature of habit and she could never be satisfied living an everyday existence. It wasn't in her-if it ever was-and now she'd gotten a taste for violence, fear, excitement and living life on the edge, it wasn't possible to tuck that all away and live a life most people dreamed of being perfect.
The kind where nothing bad really happened, and ideally, one found the man of their dreams, married, had their house in the suburbs, kids and a family pet or two. Max couldn't imagine living that way ever and if he truly knew Mags, neither could she.
Of course, he could have made it easy on himself and used the tracking device he'd installed on the vehicle but where was the fun in that? Besides, a part of him didn't want to know where she'd gone. Not only did it give him legitimate plausible deniability but he didn't trust Dimitri.
The man-the one he loved and hated above all-had given him his word he wouldn't hurt Mags but Max had heard it all before and knew his word was as good as the average sociopath. He tried to come across as being as cold and heartless as his boss but he simply didn't have the skills inside him.
He hadn't grown up in the streets of St. Petersburg, homeless at a young age, or alone like Dimitri. Max's childhood had been filled with love and laughter. He sometimes remembered his mother crying but it wasn't because of him. She only felt bad about the loved ones she'd been forced to leave behind. The man she did love though she allowed him to believe his feelings for her were unrequited. The child they shared she'd given up in exchange for having at least one to call her own.
Everything changed when his mother met Dimitri and he introduced her to a world of wealth and desire beyond her wildest dreams. He wasn't exactly thrilled she had a son but his mother had always been good weaving the perfect lie and by the time she'd sank her claws into the man who would eventually become his stepfather, Dimitri couldn't imagine his life without them.
After all this time, the thought of a rumor floating around Dimitri had killed his first wife and their two sons plagued him with a sense of foreboding. Not because he couldn't believe they weren't true but because he suspected the man was as guilty as sin.
Dimitri was a man who would get rid of any one and anything standing in the way of his lust for more power, domination and control. No one was safe from his wrath. That alone had him questioning everything he'd done in the name of expanding the Koslakov Mafia Empire. Instead of dwelling on it, he allowed the thought to quietly slip into a hidden corner of his mind.
Cooking had always been a carefully concealed passion and it soothed him the way most artists were relaxed by doing what they did best. He made orzo pasta with chicken broth, prawns, scallops, chopped zucchini, red bell peppers, and red onions with a fresh lemon zest and olive oil drizzle to go on top. Of course it was more than enough for two people but he didn't stop there.
He also made fresh water salmon, which he baked in the oven, and marinated with molasses, olive oil and sea salt. By the time Mags returned, the whole house smelled heavenly as he prepared a pitcher of fresh sangria using Sauvignon Blanc wine, apple-flavored vodka, fresh pomegranate juice and thin slices of Anjou pears.
Mags walked into the kitchen and looked around at the feast prepared before her in absolute shock. "Good evening to you too. If I knew my going away for a few hours would illicit such an expression of overwhelming emotion and food, I would have left a long time ago."
Max busied himself with setting the table. "I thought perhaps you'd decided not to keep your end of the bargain. That you wanted nothing to do with a plan that has been cultivated for years."
She strode toward him before she stopped a few feet away. "No, that's not why I left. I had to take care of some personal business but I'm sorry if you were worried about me-believe me, that wasn't my intention."
His aquamarine eyes glared at her with a mixture of cool condescension and detachment. "Why would I care what you do with your time, Magnolia? If you want to screw half the neighborhood, by all means, go ahead and do it. However, I must insist you be discreet."
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling to breathe. "Is that what you think I was doing? Fucking a man? Sorry but my hormones don't rule my body anymore than they rule yours. Besides, why would I do that when I have a perfectly capable man in the house who can cook?"
Max finished setting the table and stood before he turned toward her. "You mean you don't know how to cook," he said in a voice reeking of sarcasm.
Mags rolled her eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know how to cook . . . food and meth. Serra wasn't exactly domestic and I put meals on the table more often than not. I even know some gourmet recipes but the Deckers weren't that kind of family. They wanted the basics-steak, fried chicken, mash potatoes, corn, peas-you get the idea."
Max struggled to maintain his composure as he began to transfer the food to the table and she began to help without him asking her. "Exactly what kind of people would teach a young woman to cook meth?"
"The kind who make a lot of money off selling the drug." She smiled facetiously before she sat down across from him. "It's not a big deal. I was pretty good at it but I was always scared I would have an accident. It's dangerous-under the most ideal conditions. My worst nightmare was being horribly disfigured or blowing myself up. I rather liked cooking in the conventional sense and there were other jobs that needed to be done around the place so I didn't do it for very long."
Max poured them both generous glasses of sangria. "You've lived a very interesting life and yet . . . there is still so much I don't know about you."
Mags smiled after she served herself a hearty helping of orzo and salmon. "Well, you've lived longer than me and I know nothing about you. Why don't we try to get to know one another and maybe we can fill each other in on the gaps."
He breathed deeply as he speared a piece of salmon and placed it in his mouth. "My life only seems interesting because of the mysterious nature surrounding it. Believe me, if you knew everything about me, you wouldn't find me fascinating at all."
She swigged from her sangria after she'd tasted the orzo. "I'm sorry but if that is your way of convincing me your life has been anything other than unconventional, you've failed entirely. I think you want me to find you rather boring because then I won't learn anything about you and I won't ever become curious enough to ask."
Max set his napkin down and drained his sangria before he poured himself another glassful. "Go ahead, you can ask questions about my past."
"How long have you worked for Dimitri?"
"A very long time. The man is like a father to me. I've spent most of my life with him and I know him as well . . . as he can be known."
Mags bit her lower lip lightly before she continued, "Were you supposed to murder me after we completed our mission?"