Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
He jerks up his chin before kissing my temple and then stepping back. “Ano is waiting for you downstairs.” Confusion must cross my features, as Maksim is quick to remove it. “He will drive you to work.”
“It’s half a mile down the street.”
Zoya sits back and watches the fireworks when Maksim replies, “That I don’t want you walking.”
“With traffic, it will take longer to drive.”
“I. Don’t. Care,” Maksim bites out, his temper rising. “Your shift finishes at nine. It will be dark by then.”
Over being babied, I skirt past him while saying, “Then Ano can pick me up tonight.”
“Nikita.”
“Goodbye, Maksim.”
My race for the exit means the click of my heels almost drowns out Zoya’s breathy laugh. “And you thought getting her to agree to marry you would be the hardest part of your marriage.”
Her comment lowers my speed but only long enough for the clomp of Maksim’s boots to overtake the pounding of my pulse. He’s hot on my tail, and even though his scowl should frighten me, my body reacts on the opposite end of the spectrum.
I’m so turned on by his possessive stalk I don’t give him a chance to voice any of his grievances.
I kiss him instead.
It is a fumbling, messy embrace that makes a bird nest of my hair in under ten seconds and makes me wish a pledge didn’t require putting in the hard yards.
I’ve enjoyed being in Maksim’s bubble so much the past few days, for the first time, I’m dreading going to work.
After nipping at my lips, Maksim slowly pulls back before murmuring, “You play dirty, Doc.”
“Says the guy whose kisses alone have me wanting to backtrack on every promise I’ve ever made.” Since I don’t have time to settle his confusion, I ask, “Is Ano waiting for me in the garage or the foyer?”
His smile makes my backflip easy to swallow. “The garage.”
With no more words needed, he flattens his hand against my back and guides me to the elevator. The eyes of the man he excused last night peek up over a newspaper when he notices our approach before he hits the call button and returns to reading. Since his suit jacket has been removed, it is impossible to miss the two-gun holster bulking out his large frame.
“Is this much security necessary?”
Maksim escorts me inside the elevator and selects the floor for the garage before instructing the attendant that he can take it from here.
He waits for him to leave before answering my question. “Being married to someone like me has as many disadvantages as perks. Security can seem like a disadvantage until you need it.”
“So they’re here for you?” You can hear the confusion in my voice.
Maksim’s smirk makes my heart race. “No. I can take care of myself.”
“And you think I can’t?” Not looking for a fight, I continue talking. “I wasn’t lying when I said I know exactly which arteries are vital.”
“I’d ask for tips if cutting off a guy’s cock was my forte.”
As the elevator dings, announcing we’ve arrived at the garage, I reply, “The male appendage doesn’t contain vital arteries.”
“It does when it comes to you, Doc. Even when you’re slicing through his junk with a scalpel, all his blood would still be rushing to the area you’re groping. He’d bleed out in seconds.”
I laugh. It is a far nicer way to end our conversation than the argument we were inching toward earlier.
After pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth for the second time this morning, I slip through the car door Maksim holds open for me, before latching my seat belt.
“Straight to Myasnikov Private,” Maksim demands to the driver before he closes the back door of a blacked-out SUV and taps the roof, signaling for the driver to leave.
Traffic is atrocious, but Maksim’s wish for me to be driven to work makes sense when I spot the number of media vans clogging the streets. They’re lined up outside my building and remind me of the number of gossip articles I found about Maksim while trying to track down his mother’s details.
He was featured in glossy magazines like he’s a celebrity, and was one of Russia’s most eligible bachelors, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the media’s interest in discovering who removed the prestigious title they assured its readers would never occur.
Things are as hectic at Myasnikov Private as at my building. The staff are overrun with another gastroenteritis outbreak, and although I’m no longer on the roster in the ER, the number of cases has also flooded into the pediatric ward.
“Where do you need me?”
Dr. Lipovsky, my now supervisor, sighs in relief when she spots me before suggesting Room 3A. “Yulia Petrovitch was brought in this morning with severe abdominal cramps and distension.”
“Was she scanned?”
She nods before handing off a patient chart to a nurse. “Nothing was found. Her bowels are clear, and all organs are of normal size and appearance. We’re thinking food poisoning.” She flicks her eyes to the curtained-off room. “Her father arrived an hour ago. I’ve not yet had the chance to speak with him.”