CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Fire in my blood.
Maxsim
The sound of Ari’s silence still lingers, louder than it has any right to be.
She didn’t confront me last night—not directly—but the tension in her eyes said enough. She’s too smart to ignore what she overheard, too proud to ask for answers outright.
And now, here I am, staring at reports that don’t add up, trying to pretend her absence doesn’t gnaw at me more than it should
The office is eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the heater and the faint creak of the leather chair beneath me.
I set my coffee mug down harder than I intend, the sound breaking the stillness. I shouldn’t care this much.
The door swings open without warning, slamming against the wall. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. Only one person in this house would dare.
Ari stands in the doorway, her green eyes blazing. Much better. This, I can handle.
Her hair is slightly messy, falling in loose waves around her face. She’s dressed casually—fitted jeans and an oversized sweater—but there’s nothing casual about her posture. Arms crossed, chin tilted, she’s a storm brewing in my sterile office.
We need to talk.” Her voice is sharp enough to slice through the silence.
I glance up, unfazed. “Finally. The silent treatment was getting tedious.”
Her lips twitch, but it’s not a smile—it’s the warning before a storm. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been trying to decide whether or not to trust you.”
I lean back, keeping my voice calm. “And what’s the verdict?”
Her green eyes blaze. “I don’t know, Maxsim. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my brother’s name came up in your little pow-wow last night.”
My jaw tightens, but I keep my face impassive. “Eavesdropping is a dangerous habit to pick up.”
Her lips curve into something that’s not quite a smile. “So is lying to your wife.”
I stand, moving to the sideboard where the coffee pot sits, and pour myself another cup. My movements are deliberate, calculated—a mask of calm. “This is Bratva business,” I say, keeping my tone even. “It doesn’t concern you.”
Her scoff is sharp, a dagger aimed directly at my composure. “Doesn’t concern me? My brother’s name came up.”
Her accusation hangs in the air, and for a moment, I consider lying outright something neat and simple. But the weight of her gaze keeps me from it.
I set my coffee mug down, the porcelain clicking against the desk. “It’s Bratva business,” I say, keeping my tone even. Neutral. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She steps closer, her eyes blazing. “If my family is involved, it’s my business. Or are you too arrogant to see that?”
I meet her glare head-on, but the truth catches in my throat. It’s not arrogance—it’s doubt. Doubt about who’s pulling strings behind the scenes. Doubt about who’s loyal and who’s just waiting to stick a knife in my back. “I can’t give you answers I don’t have yet,” I admit, my voice lowering. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because the wrong move could set everything on fire.”
Her eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe. Uncertainty. She studies me for a long moment, searching my face for cracks, but I give her nothing.
“You’re dancing around the truth,” she says finally, her tone softer but no less biting. “Are you even sure you can trust your own men?”
The question lands harder than I expect, like a stone dropped into deep water. I glance toward the window, my reflection faint in the glass. The answer sits heavy in my chest, but I can’t say it aloud—not to her. Not yet.
“Trust is earned,” I say instead, turning back to her. “And some people are overdue for an audit.”
Her brows knit together, frustration tightening her features. “If you don’t trust me enough to let me in, this alliance is doomed.”
Her words cut sharper than they should, but I push the sting aside, stepping closer. “I trust you, Ari. But if I share too much, and it falls into the wrong hands...we lose everything.”
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see the fire that drew me to her in the first place. She’s not backing down.
“The alliance is about trust,” she says, her voice rising, “but you’re keeping secrets. What are you so afraid of, Maxsim?”
My calm slips, just for a moment. “Afraid?” I step closer, closing the distance between us. Do you think I have the luxury of fear?” My voice is sharp, deflecting her accusation.
She crosses her arms, her defiance burning brighter. “I think you’re afraid of letting me in. Of trusting me.”
The words hit harder than I expect, and I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. “Ari, drop it.”
“No,” she snaps, taking a step closer. “I’m not dropping it. You don’t get to shut me out because you’re too scared to face your past.”
I turn away, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles ache. The memory rises unbidden, a specter I can’t escape. When I finally speak, my voice is low, raw. “There was someone once…”
I turn away, my gaze falling on the window. The sunlight is too bright, too harsh, but I focus on the gardens below, on the neatly trimmed hedges and the stillness of the trees. “A woman I grew up with. She had fire, like you. Thought she could handle herself. I let myself believe it.”
I feel Ari step closer, but I don’t turn to face her. “I trusted someone I shouldn’t have,” I continue. “And it cost her everything. She died because I wasn’t careful enough. Because I let my guard down.”
The memory is a knife twisting in my chest. Her face flickers in my mind—her defiance, her laughter, the light that vanished too soon.
“I don’t take risks anymore,” I say, my voice hardening. “Not with people. Not with you.”
For a moment, there’s silence. Then Ari’s voice cuts through it, softer than before. “I get it,” she says. “More than you think.”
I glance at her, and there’s something raw in her expression—something unguarded.
“My mother...” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the floor. “She had this way of making you feel invisible, even when she was looking right at you. Always pointing out what I did wrong, what I could’ve done better. Nothing was ever enough.”
Her voice trembles slightly, but she steadies herself, meeting my gaze. “That’s why I lash out. Because it’s easier than waiting for someone to disappoint me.”
I don’t say anything, but I listen. For once, I just listen.
The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Slowly, I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away.
“I see you, Ari,” I say quietly. “Even when you’re trying to hide.”
Her lips curve into a small, hesitant smile. “How can I feel safe with someone who still doesn’t trust me?”
I pull her closer, resting my chin on top of her head. Her hair smells faintly of lavender, and for a moment, I let myself hold her without overthinking it. “All I have right now is a lot of conjecture. Pieces that don’t fit together.”
She exhales softly, her body relaxing against mine. “Let me in, Maxsim.”
“It’s uncomfortable.”
“All the good things are.” She hugs me tightly, and I know there is much more to gain from letting her in than shutting her out.
A risk that might actually be worth it.