Page 65 of Bratva's Intern
But…? Just then the server dropped by our table to take our orders. Despite Nik saying he was on duty, I still ordered him a slice of apple pie for later. If Maxim noticed my portions, he didn’t question them.
“How do you navigate relationships with your bodyguards?” I asked when the server left.
Maxim shrugged, lifting his glass again. The server had refilled it. “Anyone who cares about me will have to adapt to my lifestyle. It’s as simple as that.”
“I don’t know if I could ever live like that.”
“You’d be surprised what you’re willing to do if you truly like someone.”
Maybe, but I’d never liked someone that much before. Before my ex proposed, my romantic adventures were based on mutual attraction, fast sex, and going out a few timesbefore the romance fizzled out. My relationship with my last boyfriend had lasted a year too long.
“Your family’s Russian.” I took a sip of my water. “Were you born here or in Russia?”
“I was born in Moscow. I came here on my own.”
“Wow, that sounds scary. Do you ever go back to Russia?”
“No.”
“Really? That’s sad. What’s it like?”
I folded my arms under my chin with my elbows propped up on the table, my full attention on Maxim. I’d never been anywhere outside my city, let alone in another country.
“Moscow is beautiful with stunning architecture. I guess like most big cities, there’s good and bad. The food and culture are rich. I’ll take you someday, if you want.”
I gave a burst of laughter. “Yeah, right. Me in Moscow? I’m not holding my breath.”
“Why do you think I brought you here tonight, Wren? Look around you. This is my life. Traveling to other countries for business is my life. As my PA, you’d live that life as well.”
I swallowed, my heart leaping. “But this is just for the summer.”
His response was a grunt I couldn’t interpret. Was he relieved by my reminding him he wouldn’t have to put up with me for long? Just a little over a month.
“Tell me more about your business.” I flipped open my book in case he said anything I should note.
“What do you want to know?”
“I’d say everything, but we don’t have time, do we?”
“You have as much of my time as you want.”
Luckily, the server returned with our food, providing a natural pause in our conversation because I didn’t know how to respond. Maxim had just said one of those weird statements that left my stomach feeling queasy. Not in an unpleasant way. Just really confusing.
The server placed Maxim’s medium-rare steak before him and my plate of grilled vegetables in front of me, creating a barrier between us with the physical reminder that this was still a business dinner.
When we were alone again, Maxim continued talking about his business—how every inch had been earned, not given. He’d worked his way up a small company. I listened while I ate, drawn in by everything I was learning about him.
I’d assumed everything had landed in his lap, that money had always been a part of his world, but no. While he’d not been destitute for a long time, he’d had very little when he arrived in the country.
“I got lucky with some—” Maxim stopped, his gaze unfocused, his expression slackening. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He wasn’t looking at… anything.
I stilled, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Maxim?”
Nothing. He wasn’t blinking. Wasn’t reacting. His fingers rested lightly against the table, motionless. For a moment, I thought he was deep in thought, but the stillness was wrong. It wasn’t the stillness of someone thinking. It was vacant, unnatural.
“Maxim?” I said again, a little louder.
A few seconds passed. Then Maxim blinked, curling his fingers like he was grounding himself. He shifted his head a fraction before his gaze snapped back to mine.
