16. Maxim
16
MAXIM
I’ve been awake for an hour by the time Hayley stirs. She’s tucked under my arm, her head resting on my pectoral, and my hand on her waist. Having her close soothes an ache in my heart I didn’t know I had, even as it builds the pressure in my cock.
“Good morning.” I put my phone down from where I’ve been checking up on progress of finding her sister Payton, and starting men on investigating what happened to Taylor. I meant what I said. That’s my problem now, and she will never have to worry about her family again. Being with her makes me want to be a better man, and caring for her is the basis of that.
“Mmm.” She wriggles sensuously, rubbing her cheek on my skin before turning her face to kiss my chest and creeps her hand down my belly, brushing over the hair and sending shivers of anticipation through me until she reaches my twitching cock, which she glides her fingertips over.
I swear softly in Russian. I was trying to give her the space to recover, but if she’s going to do that, I won’t survive without being inside her again.
“You’re hard,” she marvels. “I do almost wonder what your piercings look like when you don’t have an erection.”
“Might take you years to discover,” I say with a choked laugh, putting my hand over hers and guiding it fully over my cock. “Feel what you do to me? That’s all for you.”
“Mine,” she croons, and my spine melts at the possessive gleam in her eyes as she shifts to look at me.
“Yours,” I agree, then suck in a breath as her innocent fingers explore the sensitive head and the top barbells and send pleasure shooting up from the base of my spine.
A rumbling growl starts up in my chest and Hayley giggles.
In a second, I have her pinned under me, and she squeals. I kiss down her throat, over the wings of her collarbones, then suck one nipple into my mouth.
“Maxim.”
“Shh.” I keep kissing down until I’m between her legs, looking at her slick, puffy pink folds. So perfect. “Daddy is going to take care of his printsessa.”
It’s after multiple orgasms, a joint shower which ended with us back in bed, another shower, and me leaving her there while I clear up the mess I made of the dining area, that we’re sitting having breakfast. Hayley still has no clothes, and we’re ordering some to be delivered here when my phone rings.
“It’s one of the London Maths—” I correct myself, damnit, they’ve got me doing this now. Idiots. “Mafia Syndicate,” I tell Hayley, then answer. “What have you found?”
“Hello to you too,” the kingpin of King’s Cross says dryly. “I think I’ve found the Richmond girl?—”
“The Love sisters are under my protection,” I growl, and Hayley’s cheeks tinge pink as she smiles. She’s wearing a shirt of mine again, a fresh one. “She’s not a Richmond girl.”
“Right.” King’s Cross makes a humming sound of concern. As the mafia boss controlling one of the biggest railway stations that leads in and out of London, he has information about the whereabouts of people, whatever their method of transport. And he knows the value of family. He lost his sister, and raised his niece alone until last Christmas when he fell in love with the nanny. “You may not like this.”
“Tell me.” I have no patience for messing around on this. I promised to reunite Hayley with her sisters, and I intend to deliver on that.
“I think Payton just got married to Beckenham on a remote pacific island.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. Or my ears.
What?
Hayley is vibrating with curiosity, so I tap the phone onto speaker.
“But Beckenham is her boyfriend’s dad,” I say, and shock whitens Hayley’s face.
I take her hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“Feliks Rykov, father of Ivan Rykov, yes. Forty-four years old. It’s a bit unusual to marry your ex’s dad so quickly, I admit.” He doesn’t comment on the obscene age gap, which I appreciate.
“How can they be married?” Hayley exclaims.
“What leads you to think they’re married?” I add. Because that doesn’t sound like he’s going to hurt her, at least.
“I found a trace that took them to an airfield,” King’s Cross says. “And to a private jet that was booked in other names. I assumed they were fake, but no. It seems not. They are a real couple who were about to take off for their secret wedding. They were ‘persuaded’ that alternative arrangements were better.”
“He stole someone’s private jet?” He and his shithead son have a reputation for being Bratva who are rich and entitled, and I don’t like him, but he can afford his own fucking transport.
“He took his own private jet, actually,” King’s Cross replies. “It looks like the pilot had been subletting without his boss’ knowledge.”
“And now Rykov has taken his son’s girlfriend on a ‘romantic trip’,” I mutter.
“Kidnapped,” Hayley corrects me.
“I’ll send details of where the flight said it was going, but there’s no guarantee it’s accurate.”
“Understood. Thanks.” This is why it’s worth putting up with the maths nonsense and the egos. You can count on the London Maths Club to get results. “Whenever you need a favour in return?—”
“I will have repayment of my debt, yes.” His tone is light, but he’s serious.
He hangs up, and Hayley and I stare at each other, speechless, for a second.
“I’ll message the coordinates King’s Cross sends to my private pilot so we can pay them a visit,” I say.
“How long will that take? He won’t hurt her, will he?”
I shake my head. “This is so out of character for a Bratva boss like Feliks Rykov, I just wonder…”
“What?” she asks, her brow furrowed with concern.
I don’t want to voice my suspicion for fear of disconcerting Hayley even more, but could this have been a protective move by Beckenham.
“Why don’t you try calling her again?” I suggest. “Maybe an internet call?”
“She would have contacted me if she could,” Hayley points out, but she grabs her phone and seconds later it’s ringing.
We wait. And we wait. And we wait.
Payton doesn’t answer.
Hayley’s bottom lip wobbles, and I pull her into my arms. “I’ll get her. I promise.”
Burying her head in my shoulder, she begins to cry. My sweet girl.
As I comfort her, whispering in Russian oaths that I won’t rest until her sisters are found. I consider whether to hire locals to search for Payton, or send over my own men.
Both, I decide.
Hayley sobs inarticulately and I stroke her hair.
A shrill ring cuts through us.
Hayley jerks her head up, and lifts her phone. “It’s Payton.”
Swiping her tears away with her sleeve, she takes a deep breath, and hits accept to the video call.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t answer.” A girl who is superficially similar to Hayley, but not as beautiful and without the spark that makes my girl so perfect, comes up on screen. Her long brown hair is wet, and she’s wrapped in a bright beach towel, with a bikini strap looping around her neck. She’s in what looks like a beach hotel room, and through the window there’s blue sky and a waving palm tree.
“Sorry you didn’t answer?!” Hayley yells. “Why didn’t you call me as soon as you could?”
“I couldn’t!” Payton glances to the side. “Look, I shouldn’t even be talking to you now, but I heard my phone ringing and ran out of the water.”
“No, you shouldn’t be using that phone,” comes a gruff man’s voice in a Russian accent, pretty similar to mine. But he sounds… Almost indulgent?
I put a possessive arm over Hayley’s shoulders.
“Rykov,” I growl. “What the fuck?”
“Who’s that?!” Payton’s eyes go wide and dart around as though finally taking in Hayley’s surroundings. The unfamiliar apartment. My shoulder with all its tattoos, and the intimacy of the pose.
Hayley gives me a happy glance. “Uh, well, some things have happened.”
I smirk back. They really have.
“Are you okay?” Payton says worriedly. She doesn’t seem scared of her captor, but more concerned about her sister. “I thought you were safe at home.”
“Yeah. Safe.” Hayley slants an eyebrow at Payton. “Your boyfriend tried to kill me, you know? A head’s up would have been nice.”
“I told you so,” Rykov says off-screen.
“Oh no.” Payton covers her mouth, but her eyes are distraught. “I’m so sorry.”
“I dealt with it,” I interject mildly.
“What do you mean?” Rykov suddenly grabs the camera and holds it too close to his face, scowling.
I grab Hayley’s wrist and turn her phone, so it faces towards me. I don’t want her to bear the brunt of any of Rykov’s anger. “Bring Payton back, and we’ll talk about your son.”
He pauses, like he’s digesting that ultimatum. “Understood.”
“So you’ll return Payton—” Hayley begins.
“Nyet. She’s mine,” he snaps.
He hangs up, and we’re left again, blinking at one another across the table where I took her virginity.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “What does that mean?”
I lean into Hayley, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair, then press my mouth to her forehead in a sweet kiss. “That she’s his, like you belong to me.”