The Only Way is Up

Part Four

Chapter Four

The shower was cold, not by choice and it didn't help Max's mood, or his opinion of the gym, which was a shit hole. No, it had been a long day, and talking to Arthur only made the weekend ahead seem long and lonely. Even a seventy five year old had a more enticing and interesting life than he did.

But then he'd only been in London for a few months, he'd barely found his feet. And he had left a rather lively and full life behind in Florida. But he couldn't stay there, training at a gym, knowing that he'd never compete, that he could never be a real part of the team again.

Clean and hydrated he was making for the upstairs office to chill out, when the girl working reception called him over. As she fluttered her eyelashes at him, she handed him the phone, "I know it's you now."

As he took the telephone, he had to look away. She annoyed him.

"Chertov."

"Ah Maxim, it takes a long time to find you." The blood in his veins seemed to stop at the voice that greeted him, his father. How had he found him? He wasn't usually at this gym at this time. A myriad of questions rushed through his mind, he hadn't hidden his whereabouts, but he hadn't broadcast it either. But as usual, the all-seeing eye knew everything. Instantly his father dropped into their native Russian, another attempt to intimidate, to control things. The man who held his motherland in such a high regard, nowhere compared to it, especially not any of the places that Maxim wanted to live.

"Now that you are back in Europe at least I want to see you. I can come to London this weekend."

It wasn't a suggestion or an offer, it was a command. Maxim's anger grew and he refused to buy into this, so he responded in English, knowing that would anger his father, "I told you when I left for Miami that I had nothing to say to you. You threw an ultimatum at me, and I made my choice, I stand by that."

The old man laughed, "this isn't a choice. You are working at a gym? You give up everything you have for that? Really? Your way has failed. I will come and see you on Saturday, make time for me."

Max shook his head, "that will not happen; I am not here on the weekend. So please save yourself a journey. Believe it or not father, I have a life."

He disconnected the call before he could say anything else, his anger threatening to bubble over, only his father could do this, pick him up, all the elements of his life, throw them up in the air and then let them land where he wanted. Control. He'd been doing it since he was a child, Aleksi Guryanov, the control freak.

He was overpowering, he took over everything and unlike the rest of his family, Maxim had never given into that. But even after six years, he could feel that same sickening sensation threatening to engulf him, swamp him, suffocate him. Without thinking, he threw the handset at the wall behind reception, as hard as he could. No one made him angry like his father did.

The blonde girl flinched as it shattered into pieces; stepping away from the plastic that had flown across the space behind the desk she eyed him nervously. Part of him wanted to grin, he was far more complex than people gave him credit for, it wouldn't hurt if she was afraid of him, she should be.

As he started to smile, his lips turning up in anger, he turned and saw Nicole in front of him, staring, jaw open. He hadn't wanted her to see this, seem him vulnerable, know that he could be hurt. Already they had a standoff, a balance, and he was getting off on controlling her. She was different.

"Warm up!" He snapped in her direction before storming away from the reception to the office without looking back, needing space, time...distance.