Chapter 7 Lies
Chapter seven
Lies
The way Kira sat pressed against the door of the limo was enough to make Maxim’s blood boil.
How dare she act like he’s dangerous when she’s the one playing a game?
Did Kira believe that he had done zero research into who he was marrying?
None of them mentioned the business-like woman who accessorized and walked like a runway model.
No, everyone who had ever met Kira exposed how odd she was.
How she carried three different books in a big hand-knitted bag that read ‘Knitting Helps.’ They made fun of her outfits, which typically didn’t match and looked like pajamas.
And the final nail in the coffin was her physical appearance.
Rumor had it that she dyed her hair every two weeks in odd colors and was forty to fifty pounds overweight.
The woman who sat beside him, shivering in fear, was nothing like what was described. She wanted to act like he was making shit up or mistreating her, but every day she woke up and chose to lie to him.
Maxim was never the angry brother, and to have Lazar, of all people, chastise him for his attitude toward his new wife was a kick in the balls.
But all his reasons for having a temper were legit.
Getting married to a stranger wasn’t a pleasant thing.
Getting married to someone who lied about who they were was even worse.
How was he ever to trust her, if she pretended to be someone she wasn’t?
And to add insult to injury, her father was offhandedly responsible for the death of their parents. Was she to blame? No, of course not, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her father’s blood coursing through her veins, making her capable of the unknown.
The car opened, and Maxim got out, buttoning up his maroon jacket before he reached a hand for Kira.
She stepped out in high-heeled boots with a tight business suit.
Her hair was in a braid wrapped in a tight bun on the back of her head.
She was a beautiful woman, but what did that mean to him?
He had been around beautiful women all his life, and the way they used their looks to get whatever they wanted wasn’t a new concept to him.
It was why he didn’t give in to her whims. She was just angry that she couldn’t manipulate him like she had manipulated everyone else in her life.
Maxim didn’t want her to make any assumptions to this ‘date’ and quietly whispered, “Only speak when spoken to.”
“Shall I sit on my knees?”
Maxim smirked.
The moment she noticed his expression, her face turned a deep shade of red, and she bowed her head. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
With a hand on her back, he pushed them forward. “It’s not like it’s anything new for you.”
Kira scoffed with an open mouth. “Are you–”
“Shh.”
The staff greeted them and took his coat.
Maxim looked around the theatre entrance, less than impressed.
He had never been very interested in musicals and plays, but he knew the man he was meeting was familiar with them, and so he had scheduled this particular place to please him.
They had tables in front of the small stage.
It wasn’t on Broadway, or even a well-known location.
It was shabby at best, but with the limited amount of money he was willing to spend, it was the only option.
The staff knew his importance, and, though slightly nervous, they fumbled about, hoping to make a good impression.
When the attendant moved through the tables to guide them, Kira gripped onto his arm, and like he knew she would, she pretended to be a perfect wife.
Her nails dug into his arm, and she whispered, “Are you insinuating that I’m experienced in the bedroom?”
“Is this where you claim to be a virgin, Morozov?”
“I am! No thanks to you.”
Maxim pulled her to the chair, glaring as he sat her down.
He ran his fingertips over her soft skin, like a loving husband, feeling the tension in her shoulders.
She had a nice, long neck, and he leaned down, pressing his nose against her skin.
She smelled delicious, but it only hid the demon in her. “Liar.”
Maxim greeted the men at the table, shaking hands and getting names.
Emilio was the son of the steel mill south of Moscow and their biggest competitor.
The Italians had a designated section set aside for them.
For over a year, Maxim had been trying to get a meeting, and now, only after word had gotten around that he had partnered with the Morozovs, it was finally arranged.
He was bitter toward the fact that they hadn’t agreed based on his merit alone, but many things in the mafia required someone more connected to help.
There was some finesse in convincing someone to sell their successful company, but Maxim was an expert in such a thing. His family had acquired ten other steel mills in the last ten years, making them nearly the number one distributor.
Of course, the steel mill was a cover for the manufacturing of weapons that were discreetly shipped to foreign countries, aiding wars and takeovers, but no one outside of this table needed to know that.
He glanced at Kira. She sat straight, with her hands in her lap, listening intently to the conversation. For the most part, they spoke Russian, but it was the little whispers they did with each other that Maxim wanted aid with. He wouldn’t be played a fool at his own meeting.
It was only after they finished their discussions and food and drink were on the table that Emilio even glanced in Kira’s direction.
“I’ve never met a Morozov.” Emilio sat back with his drink in hand.
Kira said nothing, and Maxim suppressed his amusement. Apparently, she did know how to obey.
Emilio looked away. “They aren’t that impressive.”
Maxim let the comment slip. He was surprised to feel defensive. It wasn’t as if he disagreed, but the man was talking about his wife. Still, Maxim sipped his drink and remained silent, turning to the stage as the lights flickered.
“That’s because you aren’t worth impressing.”
Maxim snapped his head to Kira, who innocently sipped her drink. He reached under the table and gripped her thigh with tight fingers.
Emilio sneered. “So she can speak. I thought for a moment you were too dim-witted. All the cousin fucking perhaps.”
Kira tightened her lips and remained silent as she tried to peel Maxim’s fingers off her thigh.
She had never been disrespected before, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
Maxim probably thought her father used her in meetings like this, but the one thing about Yakov was his inability to ever admit he needed anyone.
And if Maxim knew what she heard in their secret whispers, he wouldn’t be sitting here friendly and satisfied. Kira almost didn’t want to tell him.
Let him suffer for his ego.
The music started, and Maxim finally let her go.
Kira rubbed her leg. The pain was a welcome distraction from the fact that she was starving.
She had only allowed herself a bite at dinner as punishment for eating so much candy while stressing about this event.
It helped that she was nauseous, but she was only feeling sick because she hadn’t eaten.
She sipped her water in an attempt to smother the illness.
She’d do anything to keep from throwing up.
Kira used to be bulimic back when she was fourteen and fifteen, and there was lingering PTSD.
The performance on stage was mediocre at best. Kira had never seen such a poor production. If she were the person Maxim was meeting, she would be insulted by it, but Emilio was smiling, enjoying himself as he eyed the half-naked men on the stage.
Maxim wrapped an arm around her chair as he leaned into her ear. She remained still, clenching her teeth. “How does it feel?” He stroked her arm, if only to give the appearance that they were friendly. “To be caught in one of your many lies?”
Kira’s brows knit, and she snapped her head to him, but Maxim only pointed.
She followed his finger to one of the dancers, and just then they sprang to the front of the line and backflipped, landing on their knees.
Then his eyes came into contact with hers.
Everything froze. The dancer missed a beat, and she forgot to breathe.
It broke quickly as the dancer popped to his feet and found his spot, his gaze constantly finding her even as he tried not to.
Kira tightened her shoulders. The man had been a stripper for her bachelorette party last month. Something that had been done in secret. “You had me followed.”
“Ever since our dinner. For two months. And in that time, Morozov, all your secrets were revealed. So you can play your game. Pretend you are innocent and a victim. But this relationship could actually move forward if you stopped lying.”
Kira smiled and met his gaze. “Are you satisfied with yourself? Assumptions fill your ego?”
Maxim was disappointed. He wanted to see a crack in her conviction. But here she was still claiming to be virtuous. He glared as he sat back, taking up his whiskey and drowning it.
After the show, Maxim didn’t leave. Emilio and his crew took off, but he remained seated till most everyone cleared out. Kira thought it was his temper that made him sit there with a pout until one of his guards tapped on his shoulder and whispered, “We’re ready.”
Maxim got up, grabbing her arm. She squealed at the pain and stumbled to follow. He didn’t care who saw them. All that was left was the staff cleaning up, and they all turned their heads away.
“Where are we going?” Kira tried to keep up with his long legs. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”
And sadly, the home she was talking about was with her sister Luerna and her kids. Even though she hated Luerna’s husband, she had lived in that house her entire life. Now she wanted to crawl back to it.
Down the hall and in a back room, Maxim pulled Kira in, shoving her against the wall.
Once the door was shut, a curtain drew back to reveal the dancer from the stage.
He was beaten. His eyes swollen, blood dripping from his mouth.
Kira slapped a hand against her lips as she stared wide-eyed at the man.
Maxim walked up to him, a smirk on his lips. “I heard you had a question for me.”
The man made a sound, and Maxim had to bend down to hear it. “Why?”
“Why?” Maxim mocked, looking back at Kira. “Would you like to tell this man why he’ll wake up in the hospital with two broken legs in the morning?”
Kira yanked her hand down. “Because you are an asshole. I didn’t sleep with him. If you had just asked me–”
“And expect you to tell the truth? Something you are utterly incapable of.”
“Yes, he came to my hotel room. Yes, he’s a stripper. And yes, he kissed me and touched me in places that have never been touched. But I would not sleep with him. Because I believed that part of me belonged to you. Now I wish I had.”
Maxim smacked the dancer, and his blood splattered on the floor at her feet. “Anything else you want to say?”
Kira trembled, but the man being tortured in front of her gave her strength.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t believe any of it.
” Kira looked down at the dancer, but she refused to show any weakness.
“I’m sorry you got caught up in this.” Kira swung for the exit, only to stop with her hand on the doorway.
She caught herself on the wall outside, dizzy and slightly out of breath.
A wave of nausea found her, and she squeezed her lips together as she swallowed.
Over her shoulder, she forced out, “Emilio thinks you are an idiot. He plans to sabotage this contract and get you fired. If I’m to be believed. ”
Kira gave a wicked smirk, using his doubt in her to cause doubt in everything else. She could destroy him. Didn’t he see that? His weakness was more exposed than his jugular. It was the first time she felt any sort of power, and it filled her with pride.