Page 142 of Bratva Jewels Box Set
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” he says eventually breaking the silence.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Italy,” I confess.
“Maybe one day I might be lucky enough to show it to you.”
I turn and look at him.
He seems serious.
No.
He can’t give me hope.
There’s no future being made here, not while I’m still his captive and not while I don’t know if he is still giving me to Dmitri.
After breakfast, a package arrives for me, and it’s the swimwear Maxim had ordered. Does this man have a stylist on call because how the hell does he know my size and what I like? There’s a gorgeous black one-piece with a deep V which shows off my cleavage, and another in red, which seems very Pamela Anderson-esque. I decide on the black set, which has a matching sarong and flip flops in the package also, he’s thought of everything. I head down to the pool where Maxim is lying on one of the lounge chairs in nothing but a pair of black shorts. His impressive body is on display as he lays back looking relaxed, his hands behind his head exposing his large biceps. Long black lashes caress his cheeks. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, and dark stubble lines his square jaw. The man is a damn supermodel. He could have made it on any of the runways in Europe or the covers of magazines instead of spending his days killing people working for the world’s underbelly. I’m unsure if I should take the lounge beside him or the other one on the other side.
“I won’t bite, Wildcat.” Maxim chuckles as he continues lying there with his eyes closed.
How did he know I was there? His eyes were closed the entire time. With my brows pulled together, I walk over to the lounge beside him, shake out my towel, and place it over the lounge.Then I undo my sarong, fold it up, and place it beside me before kicking off my flip flops and leaving them under the chair.
“Does it fit?” Maxim asks.
His deep voice makes me jump. “Does what fit?” I turn and ask him.
A lazy smirk falls across his face as those dark opens open and zero in on me intensely. There’s a slight quirk to his left brow as he stares at me. His eyes trail down over my body which lights every nerve on fire.
I hate how my body reacts to this man. Guess I should be happy after everything I’ve been through that there’s a part of me inside that is still attracted to men, that still wants the touch of one. Or is it just this one?
“Your swimsuit?” he says his eyes dipping to the deep V at the front. His tongue slides out and wets his lips as his eyes move up to my face.
“I’m going to cool off,” I mumble overcome with the need to throw myself at him, especially with the hunger I see dancing across those dark eyes.
I dive into the pool and the refreshing water slides over my heated skin. Closing my eyes, I let the water wash away everything that’s happened to me, and when I break through the surface, I’ll be brand new. When I break through to the surface and open my eyes everything is still the same. The sins of another are still tattooed across my skin. I’m still a little bird in a cage that’s made of invisible lines.
“You feel better?” Maxim asks. His deep, accented voice pulls me from my thoughts. He’s sitting up now on the lounge and staring at me. How does this man make ordinary conversations flirty?
“I do.” I grin before pushing my feet off the bottom and begin swimming to the other end of the large rectangle pool. My arms ache with each stroke through the cool water, but I don’t stop.There’s a tiny sense of freedom I’m getting from doing laps up and down the pool. As if by some miracle, if I keep pushing myself maybe when I stop, I’ll be back in Ibiza with my family and this entire nightmare will be over.
Not sure how long I’ve been swimming but eventually I stop, and when I raise my hand to touch the end of the pool, there’s a large body in my way.
Pulling up short, I stop and wipe my face. “You scared me,” I tell him.
“Never thought you were going to stop.”
“Neither did I,” I agree as my chest heaves from exhaustion.
“Do you feel better?”
I squint my eyes and hold up my hand to my brow thanks to the bright sun blazing down on us. “I do.”
“It’s the reason I come out here every morning and swim. There’s something about the methodical beat of placing one hand in front of the other. It soothes the chaotic soul,” Maxim explains.
Maybe he’s right. It’s the first time in I don’t know how long that my mind shut off for those moments. The continual being on edge, jumping at every movement and sound, and the constant state of anxiety I’ve been living in for months is exhausting.
“I feel rejuvenated,” I tell him.
“Good.”
