7. Maxim
7
MAXIM
T he SUV glides into the underground parking garage, the tires hissing on the slick concrete. I pull into the reserved spot, cutting the engine.
The hum of the car dies, leaving behind the faint echo of water dripping from pipes overhead. It’s quiet down here—clean, secure, controlled. Exactly the way I like it.
I glance at the rearview mirror. Sophie sits in the back seat, pale and trembling. Her wet wedding dress clings to her like it’s trying to stop her from falling apart.
“Out,” I say, my voice sharp. Her head snaps up, and for a moment, her wide eyes meet mine. Fear lingers there, but there’s something else, too. Anger. Pride. Stubbornness.
She hesitates. “Please,” she mutters, her voice trembling but firm. “I don’t want to see him again.”
Something about her words tugs at my heart. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to.
This is more important than emotions. This is about money. My money and my reputation. The only things that matter in life.
I don’t bother waiting for her to climb out on her own. Opening the back door, I grab her arm, careful not to hurt her but firm enough to remind her who’s in control. She flinches at the contact but doesn’t fight me.
The elevator ride to the penthouse is silent except for the faint hum of the machinery. She stands stiffly beside me, her hands balled into fists at her sides, as far from me as the space allows.
She starts shivering. I shuck off my jacket and place it over her shoulders. She glances up at me and then looks away again.
The air between us is thick with tension, but I don’t say a word. I’ve learned over the years that silence is often louder than any threat.
When the doors slide open, the suite stretches out before us. The place exudes power and wealth. From the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the Manhattan skyline to the marble floors that gleam under the light of an intricate crystal chandelier.
I hear her sharp intake of breath as she steps inside, her feet hesitant on the polished floor.
She glances around, taking in every detail, her gaze lingering on the armed guards stationed by the door. Her shoulders tense and she moves closer to me, clearly thinking I’ll protect her from them.
“Nice place,” she mutters under her breath, using sarcasm to mask her nerves. “Very homely.”
Nikolai appears from the adjoining room, his sharp eyes sweeping over Sophie before landing on me. “This her?” he asks, his tone even, though I catch the faintest edge of disapproval.
“This is her,” I confirm, releasing her arm and stepping further into the suite. “Sophie Hale. Nikolai Volkov, my second in command.”
“She’s seen this place,” Nikolai says bluntly, his arms crossing over his chest. He doesn’t bother lowering his voice, letting her hear every word. “Why not keep her blindfolded at least?”
Sophie stiffens at that, her chin jerking up as she glares at him. I laugh at her boldness. She doesn’t even know Nikolai, but she’s already bristling at his judgment. “You want my help, I need to be able to see.”
He holds her stare for a moment before nodding, the tension easing slightly. “Victor called,” he says to me, his tone more measured. “He wants an update.”
“Of course he does.” I nod toward the guards by the windows. “Stay with her,” I order, gesturing toward Sophie. “If she tries anything, let me know.”
He nods once, stepping back into position as I disappear into the next room.
The side room is quieter, darker, lit only by the faint glow of the city through the massive windows. I make my way to the desk where my phone rests, the screen flashing Victor’s name.
Victor doesn’t call often. When he does, it’s never for small talk.
I press the button to answer, leaning back against the desk. “Twice in one day. I’m honored.”
“Did she talk?”
“Says she had no idea he had this planned.”
“You believe her?”
“Evan’s on his way. We’ll find out the truth soon enough.”
A pause. I can hear the faint sound of a cigarette being lit, the sharp inhale as he draws in smoke. “You’re letting him see your place?” Victor’s voice is cold, cutting.
“He dies here and we keep her,” I say, the edge in my voice sharper now. “She’s useful. Smart. She built the systems he’s hiding behind. She could build us ones that no one can get inside.”
Victor is silent for a moment, considering. “So we lose the money but gain a civilian?”
“An expert,” I reply. “She put a kill code into the encryption program when she was designing it. If he tries to unlock it without her help, the money disappears. He’ll have to work with her if he wants the money released. Then I kill him.”
“We lose that money, we lose the city. Bernardi gets his filthy hands on everything we’ve spent years rebuilding since your father burned it all trying to fix a junkie.”
“That’s my mother you’re talking about.” Anger flares up inside me.
“A junkie, Maxim. Don’t pretend otherwise. What’s the plan for if the money is erased?”
“It won’t be.”
“You sound very sure.”
“Igor’s bringing Evan here.”
“I thought you wanted him alive.”
“He’s under strict instructions not to kill him. Yet. When Evan gets here, he’ll unlock the file with Sophie’s help, then he’ll die. Not before.”
“And if your plan doesn’t work?”
“I fail, you can kill me. How’s that sound?”
He laughs grimly. “Like the kind of deal only offered by a true Bratva boss.”