22. Maxim
22
MAXIM
N ikolai stands in front of me, his arms crossed, his expression tight with skepticism as I finish sorting my wedding suit. “This is a mistake,” he says, his voice showing his irritation.
“Just come out and say it,” I reply. “You think I should have worn the charcoal gray, don’t you?”
He doesn’t return my smile. “Not the suit, the wedding.”
“And your reasoning is?”
He crosses to the window, looking out at the grass. “One, you’ve hired a venue in the middle of nowhere. We’ve no idea of the security risks of this place.
“Two, all this time wasted getting married could be spent making sure she keeps her butt in her seat, working on what matters, decrypting that file.
“Three, Andrei will see through this. He’ll never believe the ultimate bachelor finally fell for someone out of nowhere.”
“You don’t think I can act like I’m in love?” I reply, my tone calm but edged with steel.
Nikolai snorts, shaking his head. “In love? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
“Don’t quote Star Wars at me, Maxim. You’re tying yourself to a woman who hates your guts and barely knows how to walk in heels without tripping? He’s supposed to think you two are happily married?”
“Her clumsiness isn’t relevant,” I say, my voice harder now. “What matters is how Andrei sees the two of us. I’ve invited him to the wedding. He’ll see man and wife very much in love, trust me.”
“She’s not Bratva,” Nikolai shoots back. “She’s going to make mistakes.”
“And when she does, I will correct her,” I counter, leaning forward. “Got it?”
Nikolai stares at me for a moment, his jaw tight. “You’re betting an awful lot on her, Maxim. This isn’t like you.”
I meet his gaze, my tone dropping to a low growl. “I’m betting on myself. And I always win. This is my decision. My strategy. And I don’t need your approval to execute it. I’m the fucking boss, not you, remember?”
“All right,” he says, putting his hands up. “You’re the boss.”
“I don’t tell you my reasoning because I don’t need to. Relax, Nikolai, it’s all going to be fine.”
He doesn’t back down easily, but at least he knows when to shut up. He nods once, curtly, and turns to leave. Just as he reaches the door, I call after him.
“Make sure the security team is doubled for the ceremony,” I say. “And get the word out quietly—if anyone even breathes wrong in Sophie’s direction, I want them dead before they can blink.”
Nikolai pauses, his hand on the doorframe, and looks back at me. “Maybe you are in love,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Protecting your blushing bride’s honor from all the cads of this world.” He clutches his hands to his chest. “So romantic.”
“Get out of here before I have you shot.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me.”
“Why not?”
“If you did, who’d be left to tell you your zipper is still undone.”