The Only Way is Up

Part Twenty

As he reached a junction, a drop in the pavement that led to a road crossing he had to hold up and wait for the dog, and it was then, as he jogged on the spot, trying desperately to keep warm, a car pulled up in front of him, and when the door opened he wanted to sprint away.

Emerging from the back of the limousine was the one man he didn't want to see. His father.

For a couple of months he'd managed to avoid this, managed to evade this man, but this bold move spoke volumes.

Ignoring the anxiety clenching his heart, making his pulse pound in his head, he turned to the older man, stretching out a shoulder in an attempt to feign nonchalance, when that was the furthest thing from what he felt. He was fearless, strong, a warrior, he'd fought men twice his size; he'd relied on his physical strength to get him through SO many things in the past. He should NOT be scared of this man, but he was, because he knew what he was capable. He shuddered at the memories that flashed in his head. He would not become a victim.

Flashing a fake smile he turned to the older man, "father. This isn't like you, stalking someone."

Aleksi gave a nod, not a hint of amusement at that contradictory and sarcastic comment, "I have waited and waited, and you do not come."

Max refused to respond in Russian, instead he spoke in his clear yet accented English, "I told you that I had nothing to say to you. I walked away at sixteen, you cut me off and I have had to deal with things myself. Do not presume that I am about to come back to you, accept the help and support I knew I could live without as a child."

His father flinched at that, "you are my son."

"And I can do nothing about that. I'm Bella Houghton's son thought father, and she wanted me to leave Russia more than anything, as soon as she saw through your charm. She begged me to get away, to leave, and I did. I will not come back, so this is wasted."

"I've let you have your way, let you live out this ridiculous dream, but now it's time to face up to your legacy, your responsibility."

He was carrying on regardless, and Max was moving from anxious to furious at his blatant disregard for her wishes.

"So I got injured, my choice of career has changed, but I don't need you. I have options."

That made Aleksi laugh, "ha ha. Working at a gym, a personal trainer to overweight middle-aged women? You are a Guryanov; you have a responsibility and a legacy. I WILL NOT see you waste away."

Max shook with anger, amazed at the myriad of emotions that his father managed to illicit in just one conversation, and he knew that a large part of that was in defence of Nicole who his father had just dismissed so derogatorily. But to mention her was to alert him to her existence, and if his father caught a sniff of the affection he felt for her then he'd use her to his advantage if he could. "Ha! The day I walked away YOU took my name, what did you say to me 'you are no sign of mine; you're a disgrace to the Guryanov name.' I stopped being a Guryanov when I walked away and I stopped being your son the day that you produced an illegitimate son out of the woodwork. My mother worshipped you, and even if you hadn't married some teenager within weeks of her dying, if you weren't a criminal and a business crook, then I'd hate you for the fact that you did THAT." When he looked slightly taken aback, he added, "cheating on her. She gave up EVERYTHING for you, and you were off fucking anyone you could. Valentin is your son now, take him and be all that you can be. Leave me alone."

His father wasn't someone who he thought would listen, be told, but regardless he spotted the scruffy dog finally emerge from a bush and whistling set of at a brisk jog away from him.

He was still angry and frustrated later when he climbed on to his motorbike, spare helmet strapped to the seat behind him. He had no idea what Nicole would think about bombing off on his bike, but he needed distance, space and definitely some fresh air, and he'd get that from miles of road being eaten up by his bike and Nicole clinging to him. It was selfish, but that was something he couldn't help, not tonight. He'd take her to the coast, to a funfair, to sink their bare feet into the sand. A link back to childhood, to the safety of memories of trips home with his mother, days at the beach, greasy chips in a paper cone, and candy floss on sticks. Happy memories and pleasurable times to wipe out the evil hatred and hell of his father.

Nicole didn't realise how pleasurable it would be to see Maxim again. But as the doorbell rang, she opened the door, she took in the vision that he was. Today in worn jeans and a dark shirt that clung to the muscles she'd had the benefit of actually touching the previous night. Being in his arms, feeling the hard lines of his body had been something that she'd relived and remembered a lot since then, the thought now even made her blush. His jaw was dark with an already hefty regrowth of that almost groomed looking beard. Then she took in his leather jacket and the bike helmets that he held in his hands.

Those full responsive lips broke into a smile, "I have my motorbike...you may need jeans?"

She looked down at the skirt she was wearing. She'd taken ages to decide on how to dress, and the answer had been via a phone call to a chuckling Kim, a tunic top that flattered her figure and a short skirt with some strappy sandals. Totally wrong for a motorbike.

"Excuse me a minute," she gave a smile then rushed upstairs.

Ten minutes later in jeans and a jacket covering her arms, she followed him out of the house. Then froze. At the end of her garden path was a beautiful motorbike. She had housemates in Uni who had been petrol heads, beaten up Kawasaki off road bikes and Yamaha road bikes had been a regular occurrence in their garden. But she took in the vintage Triumph that sat in front of her, immaculate leather and chrome, she wasn't an expert but this was both perfect and well loved, and completely not what she expected from Maxim. He was surprising her every day.

"Wow." Turning she saw the pride in his eyes at her response.

"This is my pride and joy."

She nodded, "so I see. I can see my reflection in it." That was no lie, it was polished perfectly. "And it's older than me, so that's a good thing."

He reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist, then tugged her so that she fell against him, "will you please quit with the age comments. You are a little more experienced than me. That is all. And this bike...it's greater than anything that is made today. Classic. Beautiful. Priceless."

But as his lips hovered near her ear, the words watching over her warmly, she realised that she had very little experience over anything. With just a few words he had her in pieces.

"You need this," he turned her towards him and pushed the helmet onto her head. It was a snug fit and suddenly the outside world seemed a little distant. But as she climbed on the bike behind him, letting her pelvis sink against his backside, her arms wrapping around his hard torso, she knew that she had no control over anything.