18. Lindsey
18
LINDSEY
M y heart hammers against my ribs as I drag an oversized sweater over my head and pull on some pants. Maks looks tense, his expression dark and strained as he combs his hair back from his face, his attention focused on the door as I rush to the bathroom sink to quickly splash water on my face. He’s not happy, and from his curt confirmation that we’ll be right out, I have a feeling what’s coming won’t be good for me. Still, he waits until I’m ready, then opens the French doors of his bedroom, revealing one of the men I slipped past in the lobby early this morning.
“Lucian’s here. He wants to speak with you—both of you.” The man’s eyes flick quickly in my direction before he schools them on Maks’s face.
Maks nods, his lips pressing into a flat line as he places a hand on the small of my back and guides me into the hallway. A shiver ripples down my spine from the gentle but commanding touch.
“Don’t speak unless you’re asked a direct question,” Maks says, his voice so low, I can barely make out the words. “I’ll handle this.”
Biting my lip, I wrap my arms around my waist and nod.
A handful of men stand in the living room as we enter, all tall and on the slender side, dressed in fine suits with their dark hair styled to perfection and their faces clean shaven. Their similar olive complexions and Roman noses make me confident they’re Italian before they even open their mouths. My heart skips a beat when I recognized the hawk-eyed one I ran from on the street this morning. He’s watching me with that same unblinking gaze, his golden eyes bright and observant. But he’s not the one the men seem to orbit around—he’s not the man in charge.
Lucian, I gather, is the tallest of the bunch, with striking hazel eyes and dark hair that looks intentionally haphazard. His features are sharp and powerful, naturally severe, and his gaze is scrutinizing as he watches me closely, his expression giving nothing away. “It’s the second time this young woman appears to have risen from the grave,” he observes dryly, his eyes shifting to Maks.
His lightly accented voice is smooth, calm even, and ice creeps into my veins as frightening memories come flooding back to me—memories of my last night at the Dungeon, tiptoeing down an empty hallway, stumbling upon a murmured conversation behind closed doors. This is, without a doubt, the man Maks is plotting to murder Emiliano Costanzo with, and while I have no interest in protecting the lecherous old creep who propositioned me, meeting the man who intends to betray him still terrifies me. I imagine it would take a considerable amount of apathy to look a man in the eyes when you know you’re going to kill him and convincingly pretend otherwise. Maks’s fury I can understand, his desire to destroy Emiliano after what he did. That I can relate to, even if I could never take a man’s life. But Lucian? I get the sense that he would just as willingly cut my throat as he would his boss’s if it got him what he wants.
“I said I would deal with her. I didn’t say I would kill her,” Maks states, his tone equally cool and professional.
“And yet, my man spotted her wandering down the street, half-naked, just this morning. In my world, that’s not dealing with it. From where I stand, you seem to have no control of her at all.”
Heavy silence settles over the room. I can taste the tension in the air, the unspoken question as Maks’s men hover around him, their hands subtly twitching closer to their weapons. The Italians catch each almost imperceptible movement, their expressions rigid as the suspense grows.
“You’re right,” Maks concedes. “What happened this morning was not intentional. But I assure you, it won’t happen again.” His hands shift into an open gesture as he lifts them, palm up.
It seems to be a silent signal to his men, who straighten ever so slightly, their hands relaxing into a less defensive posture. But they hold their position around him, a silent army prepared to obey their leader’s slightest command.
Lucian takes note of the shifting energy, his sharp eyes silently assessing the tension, weighing the outcomes based on his next move. “Hey, I get it,” he says, his tone lightening as his eyes slide languorously down my body. “She’s young, beautiful—she looks perfectly harmless. But she’s also a problem, so if you can’t handle the situation, then you need to hand her over. I’ve been more than reasonable, given you plenty of chances, but now it’s time to take care of matters—before something happens that can’t be undone.”
The hint of fire in his eyes dampens as his face turns cold, and the look he gives Maks says the games are over. He’s done messing around. Maks is frighteningly still beside me as tension rolls off him in waves. I put his alliance in jeopardy by slipping out this morning, and while I’m hurt by how he treated me in the bedroom over it, for the first time, I realize just how far I must have crossed the line. He’s working with a man who’s just as dangerous as he is, just as capable of violence—maybe even more so because Lucian has a lot more to lose that Maks does in all this.
A shiver races down my spine as I realize Maks might actually hand me over for running again. He was that mad, and now I see why. Everything he’s worked so hard for—the revenge for Kira he’s so close to finally achieving—might come crumbling down around him if he doesn’t give Lucian what he wants. I’ve backed Maks into a corner, and right now, I’m not at all confident that he’s on my side. I’m not his priority. I’m not the niece he so clearly adores and would do anything to defend. I’m just the woman he wanted to get out of his system, and judging by what’s happened, we might have reached that point.
The silence stretches until it feels like the air itself might shatter. I can’t bring myself to take a breath.
Lucian sighs, taking a single step toward me, his expression surprisingly compassionate as he continues to look at Maks. “I’ll do it quickly. She won’t feel any pain,” he promises.
The hairs raise along the back of my neck as he talks about me as if I’m not even in the room—like I can’t understand the words he’s saying. My lips part, an objection halfway out of my mouth before I remember that Maks told me to keep my mouth shut.
“She won’t say anything,” Maks states, his voice flat and gruff.
“Maybe you’re right. But maybe you’re not, and I’m not willing to stake my life on that uncertainty,” Lucian says casually. “Look, I trust you, Maks—as much as men in our world are capable of that. You’ve earned your reputation for standing behind your word, which is why I’m willing to do business with you. To people who know me, that’s high praise. But I don’t know this girl, and so far, she’s given me no reason to believe that she’ll keep your secrets—let alone mine.”
“If I married her—that would be adequate proof that she’s loyal to me. As my wife, she wouldn’t leave my side. I’ll keep a constant eye on her until she earns that trust.”
The suggestion hits me harder than a bolt of lightning, and the world lurches dangerously around me as the oxygen evaporates from my lungs. He can’t be serious, right? I glance up at Maks beside me, looking at his face as if I’m seeing him for the first time. He’s ignoring me completely, his gaze locked on Lucian, but the set of his jaw would indicate he’s not joking in the slightest.
The Italian cocks his head, his eyes lighting with amusement, and a slow smile curls the corners of his mouth as his gaze travels casually between us. “You’d marry her to keep her alive?” His question holds an edge of disbelief—like he can’t fathom what it is about me that would make Maks go to such lengths.
Frankly, I’m just as baffled when he’s the one who talked about getting me out of his system so he can move on.
“Yes,” Maks states.
My skin tingles, my body running hot and cold all at once as my shock leaves me speechless. I’m confident I must have misheard him, because he’s made it perfectly clear he never intends to marry. Not just me—he doesn’t want to have a wife at all. He wouldn’t go against that—reverse all the decisions that have led him down this path in life—just to keep me alive.
“And you think she would agree to this?” Lucian asks like I’m not even in the room. “From where I stand, it seems like she’s rather eager to get away from you.” If his expression weren’t so matter-of-fact, I would think he’s taunting Maks. But the man would have to have a death wish to do something that stupid, and from what I’ve gathered about Maks’s business partner, I don’t think he’s reckless. Dangerous, yes. Insane, maybe. But even during the meeting I overheard that got me into this whole mess, Lucian was clear on what he would risk—and his life was not on that list.
“If she agrees, would that satisfy you?” Maks demands, his hands fisting at his sides.
He still hasn’t looked at me, and I don’t dare take my eyes off Lucian as the Italian considers the question. His hazel eyes narrow on me as he weighs the risks, assessing what might drive me. I swallow hard, fidgeting anxiously as he picks me apart without a word.
“Alright,” Lucian concedes. “If she’s willing to marry you by tomorrow—with me as your witness—that would be enough to convince me she’s loyal to you, for now.”
All eyes shift to me, but I don’t know what to say. Am I ready to sign my life over to Maks? Do I even have a choice? I don’t know how permanent or binding a marriage contract could be in his world. It must be more substantial than what happens in Vegas if Lucian’s willing to take it as a sign of good faith.
“Well, Miss Payne?” Lucian asks, his sharp gaze fixed on my face.
I don’t know why he knows my name, but it only intensifies my feeling of being watched—my inability to escape. If I don’t say yes now, I might not live to see another day. I might not get the chance to meet my baby. The unbidden thought releases a primal instinct inside me, an overwhelming desire to survive—and more importantly, to keep my baby alive. “I’ll marry him. Tomorrow,” I agree, the words rushing from me.
Lucian’s dark eyebrows lift in mild surprise, and he gives a single nod. “Good. It’s settled, then. Just know, Miss Payne, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you from now on.” His eyes shift to Maks, and he flashes a smile. “Let me know once arrangements are made.” With a nod, he turns toward the elevator.
Lucian’s men follow without a word. No one else moves until the doors slide closed, and only after the red-lit numbers above them start to count down can I release the breath I’ve been holding. My skin prickles as several sets of eyes shift back to me. The silent scrutiny comes with a new, keen interest—Maks’s men, no doubt, wondering why their pakhan would stick his neck out for someone like me.
“Back to your posts,” Maks says to his men.
They step into action without question, moving toward the exit and following the Italians down to the lobby as soon as the elevator returns. I can sense Mak watching me, but I don’t dare to look at him until we’re alone again, and even then, the quivering fear in my stomach makes me want to sprint to the bedroom and bury my head somewhere he’ll never find me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, watching my hands fidget when I can’t find the courage to look up. “For saving my life—again.”
“I know it’s not optimal,” Maks states, his low voice sending a shiver down my spine.
That’s the understatement of the century. Biting my lip, I force myself to meet his eyes, and my heart skips a beat at the regret in their sky-blue depths. He doesn’t want this. He only did it to save my life. The knowledge shouldn’t hurt as badly as it does—he’s given me every indication he can that the relationship we have is temporary—but it reinforces my decision not to tell Maks I’m pregnant. That would be the worst thing I could do right now. He doesn’t need another reason to change his mind about protecting me. After everything that’s happened, I think a baby would only make me feel like a bigger burden to him—another problem to solve. At what point would the scales tip? What might bring him to the conclusion that killing me is the only real solution? I feel like I’m treading dangerously close to that point.
“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Maks says.
My heart flutters as I have the irrational fear that he heard what I was thinking. Then, as he continues, I realize he’s talking about our marriage.
“We can get it annulled as soon as Emiliano is dead and the Italians move on.” Combing his hair back from his face, Maks shifts his gaze to the wall of windows that look out across the city. “You probably wouldn’t be safe to stay here. But I can send you to New York with a new identity after things calm down. My cousin Dimitri lives there. I’m sure he would keep an eye on you—keep you safe.”
Again, I’m left with the feeling that I must not have heard Maks correctly. In one fell swoop, he’s promised me my freedom—and rejected me completely. Of course he didn’t intend to spend the rest of his life with me. I was stupid for assuming he wouldn’t already have a plan to get out of it before he made the offer. He wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. But that doesn’t make the pain any less as he twists the knife in my heart.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I fight to regain control of my emotions as I collect my thoughts, but Maks seems to become impatient with the silence, and his sharp blue eyes snap back to mine.
“It’s your best option if you want to get away from me. I don’t know that Chicago will be safe for you anymore unless you’re my wife.” He says it like the words hurt, his voice gruff and his hands clenching as he watches my reaction closely. “Even then—well, I’ve told you the dangers that come with living in my world.”
A thrill races through me, even as my blood runs cold. Maks put the ball squarely in my court. He’s giving me the choice, but my options are entirely outside what I’m prepared to make a decision about. Emotions churn in my stomach, and my breath quickens as a vise tightens around my chest.
I don’t know what would be the right thing to do. I don’t want to leave Chicago. Over the past year, I’ve truly started to think of it as my home. I like my job, my friends, and my apartment. I’m not ready to think about where Maks fits into that world. But I am sure I want to keep this baby, so I’m not sure I have an option. If I go to New York, then I’ll be far from Maks and the danger that surrounds him. I wouldn’t have to tell him I’m pregnant. I wouldn’t have to risk him not wanting it. If I choose New York, I could go anywhere from there, start a new life, one where I wouldn’t have to worry about Maks finding out about the baby, one where his cousin wouldn’t have to ‘keep an eye on me.’ My child and I would have the opportunity to live a normal life away from all the violence and danger.
“Maybe New York would be the best place for me,” I say softly.
Maks draws back, his shoulders squaring, and he gives a single nod. “I’ll make arrangements,” he assures me.
As I retreat to the bedroom, I should be grateful he’s willing to let me go, but still, I have to blink back tears so he won’t see me cry before I disappear around the corner.