Doctored Vows - Chapter 16

“Still freaking out?”

As Zoya flops belly-first onto the sunlounge next to me, I stop admiring the way the midday sun reflects off the diamonds of my engagement and wedding rings and put all my focus on my “supposed” best friend. The title is negotiable after last night. Her hair is wet and flopped on top of her head in a messy bun, and the tropical paradise she missed yesterday since she was shaking her ass on a stage has removed almost all her makeup.

She could still stop traffic, though.

“A little,” I reply, being honest. “I’m more worried what Gigi’s reaction will be than anything else.”

“I think I can help with that.” She breathes out slowly before saying, “Tell her you did it for me. That I made a deal I had no intention to keep, ran with the money negotiated for said deal, then convinced you it was a good idea to marry a sugar daddy so you could lend me the money to pay back the fool I tried to swindle.”

I laugh, assuming she is joking.

I’m so far off the mark my dart doesn’t even hit the board.

“Z—”

“I fucked up. I got cocky thinking he wouldn’t go through with it. Then when he did, that was a lot of money to walk away from.”

“So you walked away with it instead?” When she nods, I give her my best motherly scold. “Zoya.”

“It’s okay. It isn’t as bad as it seems. Now. Maksim is squaring everything up as we speak.” When worry flares through my eyes that I’ll owe Maksim far more than the six figures he’s already shelled out to pay off my credit cards, she says quickly, “I spent hardly any of it. I just upgraded our flights and paid for us to stay in the penthouse. I’m sorry.” She pushes out a sob when she can’t miss the disappointment on my face. “I wanted to make Aleena’s hen night special.”

“What’s that got to do with first-class tickets?”

I want to remain angry, but she makes it almost impossible when she replies, “I was hoping you’d sleep. You were coming off a double, and I knew you wouldn’t rest in economy since you’d be freaking about the germs, so I splurged a little.”

“Z…” This one is nowhere near as scolding as my previous one. I love how much she loves me. I just wish she’d do it in a less dangerous manner.

She looks up at me with begging eyes like the cat in Puss N’ Boots. Her stare is pleading but also filled with remorse. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I could never. I just wish you would have told me.”

“I had planned to come clean last night.” She lowers her eyes to the wedding set on my left hand. “We all know how that turned out.” She laughs at my rolling eyes before saying, “He picked well. That set is gorgeous.”

My pulse doubles when my sluggish head clicks on to what she just said. “Maksim picked my rings?”

She rolls over and rests her cheek onto her folded hands before nodding. “Uh-huh. He said something about a carat for each lie he believed.” Her breathy giggles echo even with the cabana’s walls being made of material. “He must have trusted the wrong people.” If life was a cartoon, love hearts would bounce from her eyes as she says, “Because that is a heap of please-forgive-me carats.”

“Please-forgive-me carats because he thought I should have been a part of the malpractice suit he’s planning to pursue against Myasnikov Private?”

Zoya props herself onto her elbows, her expression unreadable. “You remember what happened last night?”

I wish I could nod, but unfortunately, I can’t. “No. I just have a feeling it centers around that.” This kills me to say, but I’m hopeful a purge will chip through some of the confusion muddling in my head. “I mentioned his mother when we were about to…” I make a gesture someone as deviant as Zoya should be able to understand. However, she acts clueless. “When we were about to… fuck.”

“Sweetie, I didn’t think we needed to have this talk, but clearly we do.” Zoya gathers my hands in hers, then looks me straight in the eyes. “You never bring up a man’s momma during sexual activities. It lets the air straight out of the balloon.” She holds her arm in the air, straight and rigid like a flagpole, before she drops it to represent a floppy elephant’s trunk. “Penetration is hard when his manhood isn’t.”

“That wasn’t the issue.” When she soundlessly mocks me like she doesn’t believe me, denials tumble from my mouth. “It wasn’t. He was hard. And veiny. And long. So very long.” I mentally slap myself before getting back on track. “He said things to me he should have said to his mother’s medical team. Things Myasnikov Private should pay careful attention to if they want to avoid multiple malpractice claims. But he said it as if I was as much to blame for his mother’s misdiagnosis as Dr. Abdulov.”

“That’s what she meant,” Zoya murmurs to herself, her words whispers. She takes a moment to sort through the facts before she halves the load by sharing them with me. “Aleena mentioned last night that Maksim didn’t know the truth because they were placing all the blame on you. She said something about them telling him you knew he was there and that you were acting.”

Bewilderment colors my tone. “Acting? The only acting I did that night was pretend I didn’t want to slap Dr. Abdulov across the face.”

Zoya laughs. “I wish you would have. That creep needs to be taught a lesson.” She flattens her back to the sunlounge and covers her eyes with sunglasses like she’s about to catch as many z’s as she is rays. “But Maksim knows the truth now, and that’s all that matters. He can live out his insta-love fantasy full throttle without a damn thing in the way.” When I choke on my spit during the middle of her last sentence, she rips off her sunglasses with the dramatics of a small-screen actress. “You, of all people, are dissing insta-love? What would your momma say?” She shoves her hand in my face before I can respond. “You can’t use the dead mom ruse for this. Not when she was the biggest advocator for falling in love at first sight. She loved your daddy from the moment she laid eyes on him. And he loved her so much⁠—”

“He went to jail for killing the men who took her from him.”

“No, Keet,” Zoya denies, shaking her head. “He went to jail for killing the men who took her from you.” Tears prick in my eyes so hard and fast it stings when she says, “Because he knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that your momma’s claims of insta-love were true.” I wipe a tear from my cheek fast enough that she shouldn’t be able to see it, but she does. “Don’t…” Her voice cracks with emotions. “If you start, I’ll start.”

“I’m not… I won’t.” I exhale quickly before staring up at the cabana’s ceiling and fluttering my lashes, hopeful it will dry my tears. “I just miss him.”

I haven’t seen my dad in over seven years. When he was convicted to life behind bars, he made me promise I’d never visit him. He said the Russian prison system was no place for a woman, that it is more corrupt than a foreigner trying to defend himself during an unjust trial.

I tried a handful of times to see him, but he forever refused my requests. I want to believe he is doing it to protect me, but part of me wonders if it is because I look too much like my mother. We have the same pale porcelain skin and opposing almost-raven hair. She just had green eyes, whereas mine are hazel.

I stop recalling the pain in my father’s eyes the last time I saw him, when Zoya says, “Scoot.” She is no longer on her sunlounge; she’s hovering over mine, shadowing me from the sun I’ve been protected from all morning.

When I move as requested, she slips onto the sunlounge with me and pulls me into her chest. My heart melts, but since I’m still fighting not to cry, I’ll never let her know that.

“I thought you said there was no girl-on-girl action on the agenda this weekend.”

Her laughs have my head bouncing off her ample chest like a bronco rider vying for a podium spot. “I did…”—just like me, she keeps the tension low—“but then I remembered how much guys love it, so I thought, what the hell, why not give them what they came here to see.”

Giggles bubble in my chest until the heaviness weighing it down has no choice but to lighten and the only wetness in my eyes are laughter tears. “I love you, Z.”

“I love you too, Keet.” She could leave it there, but she wouldn’t be Zoya if she did. “Just like I know you’re going to love him too. You just need to stop looking at this as if it is a bad thing.”

“I’m trying. It’s just hard with no memories.” Small snippets are starting to filter through the dark, like Maksim on his knees, peering up at me with dilated eyes, but other than that, I’m wandering in the dark, unable to find the light switch.

Zoya jackknifes into a half-seated position so fast she almost sends me flying off our shared sunlounge. “I have pictures. I took a ton of them.” After snatching our room keycard off the table wedged between our daybeds, she twists to face me. “I’ll be back!” She’s halfway out of the cabana before she twirls back around. “Can you keep an eye on Aleena for me? I’m trying to tell her to pace herself, but she’s like…”

“You?” I fill in when she struggles to find an appropriate comparison.

She nods as if delighted before air-blowing me a kiss and leaving.

After wrapping a sarong around the lower half of my swimsuit and protecting my eyes with sunglasses, I shadow her exit. With everything going on, it is easy for me to forget this weekend is meant to be about Aleena. I just refuse to be that woman. I loathe people who make everything about them.

I find Aleena at a bar near the wave pool.

“Hey, Keet. I’m glad you’ve finally joined us.”

Her dilated eyes reveal she is on her way to tipsy but far from being drunk.

“Hey. Are you having fun?”

She wiggles her brows before eyeing the line of shot glasses in front of her. “I sure am.”

When Shevi holds out one for me, I shake my head. “I think I’ll stick with water today.”

“Are you sure?” checks the bartender after refilling the glasses Aleena and her bridesmaids down. “I can mix a mean cocktail.”

“The bartender last night said the same.” While cringing, I slip onto a barstool. “It wasn’t good.”

The bartender’s rumbling laugh rolls through my chest as I freeze. That’s the first memory I’ve had of last night that didn’t involve Maksim. It’s so hazy it is more an audible clip than a video montage, but it is a memory, nonetheless.

“Were you working the bar yesterday?”

“During the bikini competition?” When I nod, dark hair falls into his eyes as he shakes his head. “No. That was Riccardo. Last I heard, he was let go.” When I can’t hide my shock that he said the same name Maksim mentioned this morning when advising I was drugged, his smile grows. He’s clearly mistaken my panicked face as disappointment. “I can get his number for you, if you want. You’re just his type.” He bites his lower lip before murmuring, “Actually, you’re everyone’s type.”

“Oh. I’m flattered but⁠—”

“She’s married,” Aleena interrupts before lifting my left hand in the air, blinding him with my new bling.

“To who?” the bartender asks, shaping up like he’s willing to fight for my affection.

Aleena’s expression is just as glitzy when she replies, “To him.”

When she nudges her head to the left, I follow the direction of her nudge so fast my neck muscles scream in protest. Maksim is entering the pool area via the staff-only entrance. He’s wearing the same suit he left my suite in this morning, but instead of confusion scouring his forehead, anger is.

His forehead groove represents a V when he’s angry.

It is as straight as a line when he’s confused.

Since I’m surprised I’ve already mastered some of his facial quirks, when Maksim presses his lips to my temple a second before he flattens his hand low on my waist, I startle.

It isn’t in repulsion, but Maksim’s low, simpering growl would have convinced others otherwise. The groove between his dark brows deepens as his grip on my waist turns possessive.

When it becomes obvious Maksim isn’t the only one who noticed my balk, I try to lie my way out of an awkward situation. “I think I’ve been in the sun too long. My skin is a little tender. I should probably head back to the cabana before I turn into a lobster.” I thank the bartender for the bottle of water he placed down a second before Maksim arrived, before peering up at Maksim. “Would you care to join me?”

I ensure my voice is as seductive as the pleading look I hit him with. I’ve never been overly good at flirting, but I give today’s shot the performance of my life. It is only right. The credit card debt Maksim took care of this morning wasn’t small fry.

I’ll find a way to pay him back, but since it won’t be until after I’ve finalized my residency, I must play the part I agreed to last night.

I can only pray my heart will survive being in his presence that long.

Having above average smarts is wonderful until you realize your heart governs all your decisions. The fact I woke up married proves this without doubt.

Maksim’s eyes dance between mine for several long seconds before he eventually jerks up his chin. As he assists me off the barstool, the air hisses and cracks with electricity. It is the same fiery heat I felt in the bathroom weeks ago, and it augments when Shevi tosses a bottle of sunscreen into Maksim’s chest.

“We don’t want one of the newlyweds out of action so soon into their honeymoon.”

She hides her mammoth smile with a cocktail before it’s stolen from my view entirely by Maksim escorting me away from the giggling group.

The reason for Maksim’s unexpected arrival is unearthed when our walk through the lush paradise is stalked by numerous pairs of eyes. Some stare in fascination—even wearing a suit to a pool party can’t detract from Maksim’s sexiness—but a handful are more inquisitive than fascinated. They don’t hide their snooping ways, not even when we enter the cabana Zoya booked for the commencement of Aleena’s bachelorette party.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Maksim as I make a beeline for the sunlounge with the most shade and plop onto the edge. “I’ll do better. My head is still a little foggy, and then Zoya overloaded it.” I glance up at him. “I hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble today.”

“It wasn’t anything I haven’t handled before.”

“Negotiating for a woman’s time with money nothing new for you?”

I sound jealous. Rightfully so. I am.

Maksim plucks the SPF 50+ sunscreen off the table he dumped it on before joining me on the sunlounge. It creaks when placed under the strain of his six-foot-four height half a second before a cool substance coats my right shoulder.

“I’ve never bartered for a woman’s time.” I almost correct him, but he continues talking before I can. “And I never will.”

“We—”

“Are here because we want to be,” he interrupts, his tone stern yet honest. “Both of us.”

When I glance back at him, he holds my gaze for several heart-stuttering seconds before he smirks, squeezes a generous blob of sunscreen onto his palm, and then smears it across my left shoulder so it will be as sun protected as my right.

As he dotes on me like a husband would his new bride, I wonder if he took my defense as literal, or is he making sure Shevi’s warning that I could be out of action tonight with heatstroke won’t be an issue?

My shoulders don’t have the slightest bit of coloring, so I want to believe it is the latter, but the gawk of a man seated across from us makes me hesitant.

If he eyeballs us any harder, I won’t blame the sun for any damage caused to my skin today.

“Do you know who that man is?” My words are huskier than I’d like. It can’t be helped. Maksim is more massaging my shoulders than slapping on sun protection in the quickest means possible, and every swipe of his hand diverts the throb of my pulse to between my legs.

“Who?” His voice is as breathless as mine, and the need in it has me tilting back so his fingers brush my neck and collarbone more than my shoulders.

Multiple times, I try to reply, but when Maksim’s fingertips dip so low they’re close to tracing the triangular outline of my bikini top, I can’t concentrate on anything but how wild his simplest touch makes me feel. His fingers are right there, inches from my nipples, yet not close enough to excuse the wet patch slowly darkening my bikini bottoms.

“Don’t even think about it,” Maksim growls when I swivel my hips, hopeful my sarong will stop him from seeing how turned on his basic touch has made me. “If just my hands on you make you this wet, I want to see what happens when I answer one of the many pleas you hit me with last night.”

My back bends when one of his hands slips beneath my bikini and he squeezes and caresses my breast.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to turn you down?” He takes his anger out on my nipple, tweaking and twisting it into a hard bud. “I had to sleep on a fucking armchair while my wife was naked in my bed.”

The way he growls “my wife” has my legs scissoring and pleasure crushing through me, making me hot.

He runs his nose down the throb in my throat before saying on a moan, “I almost buckled when you moaned my name in your sleep.”

There’s no deceit in his tone, no dishonesty, but I still look up at him like I don’t believe him.

The need in his eyes drives me wild. I whimper, unashamed to display I’m desperate for any morsel of affection he’s willing to give me. I’ve craved this man from the moment I met him, and for the first time since the “shower incident,” he’s not staring at me like he should hate himself for wanting the same.

He wants this as badly as I do.

“Please,” I beg, speaking through the pulse in my throat.

The sunscreen my skin has yet to absorb smears his business clothes when he tugs me back while asking, “Tell me what you want, Doc. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“You.” I breathe out a moan, arching up when his hand slithers down my stomach. “Everywhere.”

I balance my head on his shoulder and snap my eyes shut when the sunscreen on his fingers adds to the dampness between my legs. It acts as lubricant when he stuffs two fingers inside me before he stimulates my aching clit with his palm.

The pounding in my head is gone. My hangover no longer exists. I feel nothing but jolts of electricity coursing through me as he brings me to the peak of climax.

“Do you like that, Doc? My fingers in you? My cock braced against your back?” His thumb gets in on the action, flicking and circling my clit. “You’re going to look so good filled with my cock.”

His words cause my heart to pound, and they rush my orgasm to the surface quicker than I can force it down. My thighs tremble as I fight to hold it back, but their shudders only make Maksim work harder.

He spreads my legs wider and gently tilts my hips, opening me for him, before he strokes, twangs, and finger fucks me until stars ignite and my skin slicks with sweat.

“Give it to me,” he demands, like he’s as desperate for me to come as I am.

No man has ever put me first.

No man has ever placed my needs before his.

No man has ever made me feel so desired.

So instead of clamming up like I should, I sink into him deeper before twisting up to align our lips.

With one hand down my bikini bottoms and the other curled around my throat, Maksim kisses me with a hunger I’ve never experienced. He duels our tongues and bites my lips before he speaks over my now-bruised mouth. “Make my fingers sticky, Doc. Smear them with my wife’s cum.”

I break.

With the cry of a woman who has forgotten she is in public, I grip the edges of the sunlounge and come. My orgasm is so uncontrollable I scream loudly.

So loud my best friend races into the cabana with the speed of a bullet being fired from a gun.

“Fuck.” I assume Maksim’s cuss is in response to Zoya interrupting us, but I am proven wrong when it is quickly chased by him demanding Zoya take me back to our suite as if I am a teenager sneaking in hours past curfew.

“But—”

“Now, Nikita!”

His roar is commanding enough that I jump up from my seat, snatch up my belongings, and race for the exit so fast I almost knock over Zoya on my way past.