Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Three

The estate noticed before anyone said a word.

Not officially.

Not aloud.

But places like Fenrir were built on observation, and there was no version of reality where two people could look at each other like that without someone eventually noticing.

Anika noticed first.

Mostly because Lizzy walked into breakfast looking like she hadn’t slept at all, while Maksim looked like he’d slept even less.

Which, for him, was impressive.

“You both look suspicious,” Anika announced as Lizzy dropped into the chair across from her.

Lizzy grabbed a mug of coffee like it personally offended her. “I’m choosing not to answer that.”

“Interesting,” Anika said.

Across the kitchen, Maksim opened the refrigerator with the same terrifying calm he approached everything else with.

Nikolai looked up from his phone once.

Then twice.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“…Ah,” he said after muttering something in Russian.

Maksim didn’t react outwardly.

Which was reaction enough.

Lizzy pointed at Nikolai immediately. “No secret language before caffeine.”

“You would not like the translation,” Nikolai replied calmly.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It is an observation.”

Anika bit down hard on a smile.

Maksim set a plate beside Lizzy without comment — eggs, toast, fruit.

Exactly the way she liked it.

Silence fell for half a second.

Lizzy stared at the plate.

Then slowly looked up at him.

“…That’s deeply unsettling.”

“You forgot to eat yesterday afternoon,” Maksim replied.

Anika almost choked on coffee.

Nikolai looked openly entertained now.

Lizzy looked horrified.

“You track my meals?”

“I track everyone’s.”

“That is somehow not better.”

But she still picked up the fork.

And ate.

Which honestly made it worse.

Anika caught Nikolai watching the exchange with quiet amusement.

“Told you,” she murmured under her breath.

“Yes,” he replied softly. “Now they are distracted.”

Across the kitchen, Maksim’s attention snapped toward them immediately.

Sharp.

Suspicious.

Nikolai didn’t even pretend innocence.

“Paranoia is healthy,” he said calmly.

“Not when you encourage her,” Maksim replied.

Lizzy blinked. “Oh my God. You’re bickering.”

“We are not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Anika grinned into her coffee.

The kitchen settled after that into overlapping conversation and movement — radios crackling softly near the security desk, dogs barking outside near the east run, handlers moving through shift changes.

Routine.

Steady.

But beneath it all, something subtle had shifted.

Lizzy felt it every time Maksim walked into a room.

Before, the tension between them had lived mostly in implication. Half-finished moments. Almosts.

Now it lived in memory.

His mouth on hers.
His hands at her waist.
The look in his eyes afterward.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

She was trying extremely hard not to think about it.

Which was difficult when Maksim kept looking at her like he was also trying not to think about it.

“Doctor Park.”

She looked up too fast at the sound of his voice.

Maksim stood near the doorway now, one hand resting against the frame.

“Romeo’s front leg support shifted during training.”

“Oh good,” Lizzy muttered, standing quickly. “An actual medical problem. Something emotionally manageable.”

Anika outright laughed this time.

Lizzy pointed at her accusingly. “You are being a terrible friend.”

“I’m being an observant friend.”

“Worse.”

Maksim waited silently while Lizzy grabbed her tablet and headed toward the kennel corridor.

Their shoulders brushed as she passed him.

Tiny contact.

Still enough to spike heat straight through her chest.

God.

This was becoming unsustainable.

The kennel wing smelled faintly of antiseptic, fur, and fresh straw by the time they reached Romeo’s run.

Maksim closed the gate behind them automatically.

The sound clicked louder than it should have.

Lizzy turned toward him immediately. “Okay, we need to establish some rules.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Rules.”

“Yes. Rules. Boundaries. Professionalism.”

“That seems unlikely.”

She stared at him.

“You’re not helping.”

“I am attempting honesty.”

Romeo lumbered toward them with the exaggerated suffering of a dog fully aware he was injured enough for extra attention but not actually in pain.

Lizzy crouched beside him automatically, fingers moving along the stabilization brace wrapped around his front leg.

The padded support had slipped slightly near the elbow joint during bite-work drills.

“Did he overextend during sprint release?” she asked.

“Yes,” Maksim replied. “He compensated after landing.”

She glanced up sharply. “You noticed that?”

“I watch the dogs.”

No arrogance.

Just fact.

Lizzy adjusted the brace carefully, tightening one strap while Romeo leaned dramatically against her shoulder.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she muttered.

“I have not.”

“You absolutely have.”

A pause.

Then, quieter: “Only deliberately.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him.

“That sentence is insane.”

“Yes.”

No shame whatsoever.

Maksim crouched beside her then, one forearm resting loosely against his knee while she checked Romeo’s range of motion.

Too close again.

Always too close now.

“You are angry,” he observed.

“I’m trying to decide if kissing you was a catastrophic mistake.”

His gaze held hers steadily.

“And your conclusion?”

Lizzy opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

Because the truth was terrible.

The truth was she’d been thinking about kissing him again literally since it happened.

Which apparently showed on her face because something darkened subtly in Maksim’s expression.

“Ah,” he said quietly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t ‘ah’ me.”

One corner of his mouth almost moved.

Almost.

“You are conflicted.”

“You are emotionally repressed.”

“That is also true.”

She laughed despite herself.

And there it was again — that impossible shift between them where tension softened into something easier. Something warmer.

Something that felt frighteningly compatible.

Maksim reached past her suddenly, fingers brushing lightly along her wrist as he steadied Romeo’s leg while she secured the final strap.

The touch lingered half a second too long.

Intentional this time.

Lizzy’s breath caught.

His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth again before lifting back to her face.

“Maksim—”

A radio crackled sharply at his shoulder.

Both of them froze instinctively.

Reality slammed back into place.

Maksim pressed the comm automatically, attention shifting with immediate precision.

“Go.”

A guard’s voice answered through static.

“West perimeter delivery at gate two.”

Maksim’s expression changed instantly.

Not softer anymore.

Commander again.

“I’m on my way.”

He released the radio and looked at Lizzy for one suspended second longer.

The emotional whiplash of it hit harder than she expected.

One second he looked at her like he wanted to ruin both of their self-control.

The next he looked ready to coordinate tactical response teams.

“How do you function like this?” she asked quietly.

“Poorly lately.”

The honesty in that landed squarely in her chest.

Then he stood, calm and controlled once more.

“Finish Romeo’s reassessment,” he said. “And eat lunch this time.”

She stared at him incredulously. “Are you flirting or managing me nutritionally?”

“Yes.”

Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Lizzy watched him go far longer than necessary.

Romeo huffed beside her.

“I know,” she muttered to the dog. “I’m in trouble.”