Page 53 of Silent Ties

“I just. . . ” wish Paublino would get revenge on Marissa. Not at my expense but still.

“Maxie treating you well?”

“Yeah.”

“If he’s not, you tell me and I’ll give him hell for it.” He laughed, but a second later added, “He was worried you know.”

Was he? When I arrived back from lunch, I found him studying in his office. He poked his head out and for a second, I thought his hard gaze was because he knew I’d borrowed Lennie’s phone to call Daisy. Instead, he mentioned Olga went to the store and bought all the ingredients on my list before ducking back to his studies.

It’s our ritual of sorts lately. If he’s home after dinner, he retreats into his office and I bake. I’ve preferred trying new recipes in the evening when Olga’s not hovering, though, she grumbles when she arrives to a pile of dishes in the morning.

When Max isn’t studying, he’s working, whatever that means. Since Marissa’s surprise needled most of the criminal world, he’s increasingly pulled in more directions.

On those nights, he wordlessly slips into bed and I’m shamelessly ready for him. My legs wrap around his waist as he pushes into me. It’s hard and fast and I hold onto him, needing the release as much as him.

I know he’s stressed because he’s silent, not whispering dirty things like normal. But for a moment sometimes I think we cling onto one another. Though, of course, he doesn’t hold me after. He’ll hold his head up, watching me walk to the bathroom after, but that’s about it.

Gia Akatov told me the best revenge on Yelena meant taking her son. It’s not that I want something of Yelena’s, but rather something of my own.

Maybe I’m deluding myself but I can’t help but wonder if the only time we’re in sync is during sex. It’s a physical reaction sure, but I’ve never felt this good with anyone else.

His punishments satisfy me in a way I should be ashamed of.

But I’m not and the worst part is I want more of them.

I’ve tried to figure out Max for the past four months. He’s a silently broody man who throws himself into his studies and work. We practically eat in silence when he’s around for dinner. The only time he’s talkative is during sex.

If I want to talk to Max that’s where I have to start. Pillow talk at its finest.

And okay, so the things he says to me aren’t the beginnings of stimulating conversations. . . I mean stimulating yes, but for other reasons. I just need to find one thing and work from there.

The penthouse is quiet. Max doesn’t like noise so there’s never any TV or music on in the background. It drives me nuts, but working in the kitchen, and focusing on figuring out how to properly frost cupcakes, helps.

“You just gotta start somewhere,” I whisper to myself.

Licking icing off my thumb I decide there’s no better time to start than now.

He left the double doors of his office open and I take it as a good sign. At first, they used to constantly be closed and I sensed the need for him to protect his sacred space at all times.

Now I often hear the taping of his keyboard despite the living room separating the study and kitchen.

I lean against the doorjamb. “Hi.”

I’m desperate to know how he pulls off sweatpants so well. His white T-shirt pulls across his muscles as he barely flicks his eyes toward me. And holy hell, Clark Kent.

“I didn’t realize you wear glasses.” I’ve never spotted him wearing the plastic frames before.

He turns his face back to the computer screen, inching forward in his chair like he wants to stick his nose in the knowledge.

“They’re reading glasses,” he quietly says. He might be in comfy clothes but he’s tense.

“They look really good.” The compliment doesn’t match the glow in my belly because fuck—this nerdy guy is hot. Since I didn’t go to college, perhaps I never learned about this particular kink. Or maybe it’s just Maxim I’m increasingly attracted to.

I’d like to think things changed after Marissa’s attack. We didn’t exactly lean in together, but we didn’t step back. Everything he’s said in the past about Marissa wanting to hurt me is true.

But I don’t want Marissa to hurt the Zimin’s either. At least not Max and his dad and brothers.

If Marissa, or anyone else, taunts them, then they’re also taunting me. We’re a team.

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