I stared at it and then tortured myself by doing a quick search of Misha. Nothing new had come up with him, but the old articles and interviews I’d already read. Still, I scanned through picture after picture, clicking through all the links, and studying every photo I found.
How the hell am I going to walk away from him? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I’m online stalking him?
I jumped, when my phone beeped.
It hadn’t been a phone call.
Someone had texted.
I checked the number, but it was written as unknown.
I pressed on the text.
Unknown: He can’t save you.
I swallowed and showed the guard next to me. “Someone sent this to me.”
He read it and then hissed, “We will tell Misha.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip, sank back into my seat, and thought about my grandma’s advice.
“What am I going to do, grandma?”
“Go to sleep, wake up, and do what you need to do for the day.”
Chapter 22
Misha
I woke up to moans filling my condo.
Last night, I’d taken Maxwell back to my place, dressed, smoked a joint with him, and headed to a bar to drink.
What else could one do to fill the time, when their heart was broken?
At the bar, Maxwell stumbled over some sad attempt of Russian and English as he seduced the bartender. The blonde had gave him several odd looks, but I could tell from her smiles that he was seducing her.
By my fourth drink, I translated for him.
In between that, I checked my phone, going over the footage of Ava’s place.
She’d sat with her grandma all night, staring blankly at the tv screen.
Maxwell and I were about to leave the bar, when I saw Ava fall asleep.
But Maxwell begged me to stay until the bartender ended her shift.
Once the bartender finished, she came with us. Somehow Maxwell had bagged her. They rode in the back of my limo with me as I gazed out the window, wondering if I would have Ava in my arms again.
And now Maxwell is fucking the shit out her, and I’m not getting any sleep.
In the other bedroom, the bartender moaned, “Ya tebya lyublyu!”
She loves him? Already?
Smacking sounds ensued.
“Ya tebya lyublyu!”
Maxwell roared back, “Yes. Say that shit again.”
Something banged against the wall. It was probably the bed’s headboard, although I couldn’t remember if that bed had one. No one ever stayed over or slept in there. Father had never visited. Kazimir and Valentina had their own places in St. Petersburg.
“Ya tebya lyublyu!”
“Yeah, baby!” Maxwell must’ve smacked her ass or something. “Talk that freaky shit!”
I rolled over in my bed. My cock ached for Ava. I yearned to be inside of her just like Maxwell was pounding into the bartender.
Jealousy cocooned me.
“Bistreye!”
Yes. Go faster, Maxwell. Finish this, so I can go back to sleep.
I got on my back.
My cock shot up, tenting the sheet over me.
Maxwell grunted loud in the next room. “Never had anything like this before, huh?”
“Ne ostanavlyvaysya!”
Oh, no, Maxwell. Go ahead and stop.
“Yeah, say that shit. Freaky ass. You like this big dick. Don’t you?”
She moaned.
“This is that special dick, baby.”
“Oh! Oh!”
“Harlem, baby! Take that. Take that.”
I covered my face with the pillow and groaned into it.
Oh hurry up! Haven’t you both had enough sex already?
They must’ve heard my thoughts because Maxwell growled, making some ungodly noise. It sounded like a wild animal being slashed in its throat. And the noise went on. I came close to rushing in there, thinking that she might’ve been stabbing him.
But finally, he grunted a few more times and silence blanketed the condo.
I slung the pillow off me and frowned.
No man should know how his best friend sounded, when he came. It was too much. I could’ve gone all my life and not heard Maxwell orgasm. I would’ve been better because of it.
Well, after that strangling noise, who can sleep?
I sat up, kicked off the sheets, and headed to the bathroom. My cock remained rock hard, pushing at my briefs. I stuck my hand in and adjusted it. The tip throbbed against my fingers.
Oh shut up. We’ll be fine.
Suddenly, the female’s voice rose in the condo. Her Russian came out fast. It didn’t sound like they were having sex anymore. Instead it might’ve been arguing.
What now?
Yawning, I rubbed my face, stood in front of the toilet, and pissed. It hadn’t been easy with such a raging erection.
Off in the condo, the bartender continued to yell at him.
Maxwell’s voice rose too, interrupting hers.
They must’ve been in the hallway now.
What is going on?
I finished, washed my hands, and dragged myself to where all the hysteria was at.
When I opened the door, I spotted Maxwell with a sheet wrapped around his waist and a phone in his hands.
Naked, the bartender yelled at him.
I turned to him as he looked up. “What is wrong, Maxwell? Why is she so mad?”