What Lies Ahead

Chapter Eight

"How much of it is true? The rumors, I mean."

Maksim put down his fork and sighed, visibly displeased. "What do you want to know, Evelyn? What ails your mind?"

Even though the food was delicious, I had barely touched it. My stomach was in knots from knowing where I wanted to take the conversation. Reaching for my wine and taking a generous swig, I decided to cut straight to the chase. "Do you run a prostitution business?"

"You do realize I don't owe you an explanation."

"I know. But you told me you want me to be more relaxed in your presence; that you would like for us to have a cordial relationship. I can't do that when I know next to nothing about you. You're no Prince Charming on a white horse, that's for sure. But this uncertainty that swims around in my head is far more hindering than any harsh truth."

Maksim let out a dry laugh. "So you think you can demand answers of me. Why would I humor you? What do I get in return?"

"What you wanted – a fruitful collaboration."

His answering smirk told me he was on to my bullshit. "You know that's not all I want from you."

I forced myself to hold his gaze. His eyes – dark and intense – were entirely fixed on mine. "I already told you I have boundaries when it comes to my clients."

"Yes, the lines you're not willing to cross," he said dismissively. "We'll talk about this another time." Leaning back in his chair, he gestured to my chest. "Open your blouse."

"What?" I gaped at him. On instinct, my hand flew to the neck of my silk shirt.

"I need to know you're to be trusted – on some level, at least. If you want answers, this is what I'm asking in return." His gaze slid over my phone that was lying silently next to my plate. I hadn't touched it since we sat down.

"You think I'm recording you?" I asked incredulously.

"You can never be too careful, and I don't know what to expect of Lewis now that he knows you'll be working for me," he said, unapologetic.

"Why does he hate you so much?"

"That's another question, Evelyn. Which one do you want answered?"

"Both," I said truthfully.

"Open it." He motioned to my shirt again.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered.

I asked myself if I wanted answers that much, and came to the quick conclusion that I really did. I had to know who I was dealing with, and my best chance was to get those answers from Maksim himself. There was a high probability he wasn't going to be as forthcoming as I expected him to be, but any information was better than none. Maybe if what he told me was bad enough, I would stop feeling so annoyingly attracted to him.

I hesitated before reaching for my shirt's top button. Maksim watched me quietly. When I was done, I held the shirt open for him to see I wasn't wearing a microphone. He stared at my breasts clad in white lace, and his expression clouded with what I could only describe as pure lust.

A strange sensation – almost like an electrical buzz – shot through my body, and I tried to smother it desperately. I remembered his earlier kiss, and had to stop myself from pressing my legs together. No matter how I felt about him, there was no denying the man had a strong sex appeal.

I fixed my blouse with quick fingers and once again reached for my glass of wine, trying to avoid his gaze and gather myself.

Silence stretched between us.