19. Maxim
19
MAXIM
“ Y ou’re taking it well,” I say, turning to face Sophie.
She sits on the leather couch in my penthouse, looking like a cornered animal, her back straight, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She hasn’t said a word since we arrived, and the tension rolling off her is palpable.
“Screaming won’t help,” she replies. “I thought about smashing something but I didn’t want your cleaners to have any extra work.”
“Very thoughtful. Do you know what your fiancé did when he stole from me and fucked about with that encryption code?”
“Ex-fiancé,” she snaps, her tone sharp enough to draw blood. “And no, Maxim, why don’t you enlighten me?”
I cross the room, pouring myself a drink. Her eyes follow me, wary and defiant. Even now, after everything, she has fire. I can’t decide if that’s admirable or foolish.
“He started a mob war,” I say simply. “Federico versus me. There can only be one winner and I’ll give you a clue. It won’t be him.”
Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face before being swallowed by anger. “And that’s my problem, how?”
“He didn’t do it alone,” I reply, my tone measured. “You designed the code and now he’s disappeared. That leaves you the only one who can clean up his mess.”
She stands abruptly, the motion jarring in the quiet. “I didn’t know what he was going to use it for,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Federico thinks if you’re dead the money dies with you,”
Her breath catches at the name, her eyes widening just slightly before she schools her expression.
“Federico?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “That Italian mob boss?”
“Dangerous. Unpredictable. And very interested in finding you. Hence the welcoming committee at your office today.”
Her arms cross over her chest, a barrier she knows won’t hold. “Why would he care about me?”
“Either Evan’s hiding and Federico can’t find him or Evan’s with him but failing to unlock the file. Either way, he’s got decisions to make. He tried to kill you today. Next time, he might decide to kidnap you and force you to unlock it. Trust me, you don’t want that.”
“As opposed to you kidnapping me being such fun?”
“I saved your life today. You’re welcome, by the way. With me, you’ll be fed and clothed. With him, it’ll be torture and more torture until you fuck up and he slices you into pieces. Or drugs you and locks you up in one of his brothels to fuck sallow men until you OD.”
Her mouth opens, but no words come out. I let the silence hang, watching as realization dawns. Her defenses crumble just enough for fear to creep in, and I feel a pang of something I can’t name. Guilt, maybe. Or something darker.
“You’re lying,” she says finally, but there’s no conviction behind it.
I step closer, my voice dropping. “Do I look like I’m lying?”
Her gaze locks with mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the space between us—tense, electric, heavy with unspoken truths. She looks away first, her shoulders sagging under the weight of what I’ve just told her.
“You’re not safe, Sophie,” I say finally, my voice quiet but firm. “Not on your own. Not with Federico’s people hunting for you.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “And you think you’re the solution?”
“I know I am,” I reply. “Whether you like it or not.”
She glares at me, but it’s weaker now, her resolve cracking under the weight of everything I’ve laid at her feet. I take one last step closer, my presence filling the space between us.
“Do you want to survive?” I ask, my voice low, my words deliberate. “Because if you do, you need me.”
Her silence is answer enough.
“You’ll marry me,” I say, breaking the silence, my voice firm but calm. The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, all she does is stare at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I must have misheard that. Tell me I misheard that.”
“You heard perfectly well,” I reply, stepping closer. “It’s the only way to keep you alive. We’ll marry. It’ll only be for thirty days—long enough for you to unlock the encrypted file. After that, we divorce, and you never see me again.”
She huffs out a disbelieving laugh, pacing a short line across the room. “You’re insane. Why marriage? Why not just… hire me?”
“Because you won’t just be an employee if you’re my wife,” I say, cutting her off. “You’ll be under my protection. With my name attached to yours, Federico can’t come near you. Even the mob don’t touch the wives. You’ll be untouchable. And if the time runs out and the money is lost, well, you won’t deserve my protection anymore. But succeed and I’ll make you richer than you could ever imagine.”
Her pacing stops, and she turns to face me, her arms dropping to her sides. “You expect me to just trust you won’t kill me if I get that file unlocked?”
“I don’t care whether you trust me,” I say, stepping closer. “I expect you want to survive. It’s me or Federico and you saw today how he intends to handle negotiations.”
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to argue again. But then she exhales, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“There’s more to this,” she says quietly, her voice less sharp now but no less determined. “Isn’t there? This isn’t just about protection. What aren’t you telling me about this marriage?”
She’s perceptive. I’ll give her that.
“I need you,” I admit, my words deliberate. “I’ve a business deal coming up. There’s a firm that wants to sell to a family man. Otherwise, Federico is the highest bidder and I will not let him beat me twice. With you on my arm, I’m more likely to succeed. We can’t fake it. The firm will check.”
Her eyes narrow, suspicion flickering across her face. “And what do I get out of all this?”
I let the silence linger for a moment before replying. “I told you last time. Enough to start your cybersecurity firm. Enough to walk away from this life for good.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the calculations she’s making, the risks she’s weighing. She’s smart—smarter than most—but even she knows there are no perfect answers here.
“And if I say no?” she asks finally.
“You won’t,” I say simply. “You can’t afford to.”
The defiance flares back up in her eyes, but before she can retort, I add, “And as a goodwill gesture whether you get the file unlocked or not, I’ll pay your grandmother’s medical bills. Past and future.”
That gives her pause. Her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. She’s wavering, caught between anger and desperation, and I know I’ve hit the mark.
“This is insane,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “Completely insane.”
“Maybe,” I say, stepping closer until the space between us is nonexistent. “But it’s also your only option.”
She looks up at me then, her eyes searching mine for something she won’t find. Trust. Compassion. Reassurance. I don’t offer her any of those things. Only truth.
“Thirty days,” she says finally. “And then we’re done.”
“Thirty days,” I reply, my tone steady. “Agreed?”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods once, sharply. “Agreed.”