9. Cora
CHAPTER NINE
cora
“This marriage benefits us both, Cora. You might not see it now, but you will.”
I laughed, short and humorless. “Wow. You must be a hit with the ladies.”
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate. “More than you’d think.”
The worst part was I believed him. Maxim Volkov was the kind of man women fell for despite knowing better, and I hated that part of me wasn’t immune.That moment when he’d pushed me against the door and held my throat? Maxim was all power and control. My panties were still damp, and I’d bet everything he knew it.
His expression didn’t change, but I could see the flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Annoyance? I couldn’t tell.
“What’s there to say?” I shot back. “You’ve already decided everything,” I bit out.
When I’d opened the door, and Maxim had stood there, flanked by two of his men who looked like they’d never smiled, my heart had stopped. He was so beautiful. There had been something almost lazy about his stance, but it was deceptive. He was not relaxed—he seemed always to be assessing everything, including me. His tailored suit clung to his broad shoulders, every line screaming money and power. His sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes made him look like he’d stepped out of a dark fairy tale—the kind where the prince was also the villain.
My stomach had twisted, with a mixture of nerves and something else I didn’t want to name. I’d always hated being told what to do, and Conall knew that. But when I opened the door, my girlie bits didn’t seem to get the message.
Then he let me bring my camera.
Now he looked at me with those eyes of his, gaze lingering, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. A reluctant bride? A means to an end? I folded my arms, determined to meet his gaze head-on, but it was harder than I wanted it to be.
His presence felt like a weight, heavy and inescapable.
I snuck another glance at Maxim. He was so put together and composed that it was almost irritating. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his tie was impeccably knotted. Everything about him screamed control, yet something was raw beneath the surface—something dangerous.
“Well, you’re right about one thing.” He pulled something from his pocket, and I could immediately see what it was.
A ring.
“Some things have been decided.” Capturing my hand, he slid it on my finger just as the car reached the curb.
“Are you ready?” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, a quiet authority that made it clear he was not asking. “There are rules when we get in and out of vehicles.”
“Rules?” I echoed, trying not to look at the ring already heavy on my finger but helpless not to. It was stunning—platinum with a large rectangular East-West set diamond.
“The men are here for your protection. To keep you safe. Don’t get out unless they open the door. Always wait for them.” He waited for me to nod. “Promise me.”
“Promise.” There wasn’t any reason not to agree. What he said made sense.
“Alright. Let’s get some pizza.”
I rolled my eyes but pulled my jacket tighter around me and hitched the camera strap over my shoulder. When I stepped out, his men fell into position, one ahead and one behind, like we were heading to some covert operation instead of dinner. Maxim shifted slightly. His hand resting casually at his side, where I was sure there was a weapon. Lev loomed bulkily off to one of our sides, scanning the sidewalk like he expected trouble.
“Do you always travel with an entourage?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
Maxim smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting in an infuriatingly charming way. “Occupational hazard.”
It should repulse me. It didn’t.
The air smelled like pizza and exhaust, a combination that shouldn’t be appetizing but was. The pizzeria’s sign was modest, with faded red lettering: Donna’s Pizzeria.
Maxim moved beside me with an ease that made my stomach flip. He was casual, with one hand in his pockets and one lightly on one of my elbows, but there was a tension in his posture, a readiness. His men fanned out, their movements practiced. I glanced at the bulky one closest to me and caught the glint of something under his jacket. He was definitely armed.
“Do you ever relax?” I asked, tilting my head up to look at him.
He chuckled softly, a low sound that made me feel unsteady. “Not in my line of work. You’ll get used to it.”
I doubted it, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I focused on the pizzeria as we stepped inside. It was warm and bustling, the kind of place where you had to shout to be heard. The walls were covered in black-and-white photos, mostly old snapshots of Brooklyn families and faded newspaper clippings. The smell of fresh dough and melted cheese was intoxicating. God, I’d missed New York pizza.
Maxim leaned down slightly, his voice low. “Pick a table, zayka.”
I bristled at the nickname. “I don’t need your permission to pick a table.” He grinned, not even remotely fazed. “No, but I’ll give it to you anyway.”
Rolling my eyes, I chose a booth near the back, away from the door and the constant stream of customers. Maxim slid across from me, his broad shoulders taking up more space than should be physically possible. One of his men positioned himself by the door while the other took up a spot near the counter.
I’d never felt so conspicuous in my life. “Do you always make everything a production?”
His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You’re marrying me, Cora. Get used to it.”
The reminder of our impending nuptials soured my mood instantly. I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I’m not some accessory you can parade around, Maxim.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression suddenly serious. “You’re not an accessory.”
I snorted. “Oh, sure. Because nothing says ‘partnership’ like being forced into a marriage.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought I’d hit a nerve. But then he exhaled and shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
“Good,” I shot back. “I’d hate to be boring. I’m hungry,” I grumbled, suddenly tired. Lifting the camera, I snapped a shot of the counter with its colorful chalkboard menu and pizzas sliding out. It looked like the place did a steady slice business from the street. They had a box on the counter displaying ‘pizza by the slice.’
“Do you always use that as a shield?” he asked, nodding toward the camera.
“Do you always deflect with questions?” I countered.
The waiter arrived, cutting off whatever retort Maxim was about to make.
“What kind of pizza do you want?”
“Sausage and olive.” Already, my mouth was watering. I was hoping that my husband-to-be wasn’t one of those psychos who ate Hawaiian pizza. That’d be a real downer.
He ordered two sausage and olive pizzas and four other combinations without looking at the menu. He surprised me by ordering us both a beer.
“That’s a lot of pizza. Who’s going to eat it all?”
“Well, the guys will eat it, and something tells me it won’t be wasted.” He gave me a wink, his gaze softening. “This isn’t what you wanted,” he said quietly. “I get that. But this marriage isn’t just for me. It’s for you, too.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what exactly am I getting out of this deal?”
“Protection,” he said simply. “Power. Independence.”
“Independence?” I laughed bitterly. “I had that,” I muttered bitterly under my breath, but luckily, Maxim didn’t seem to hear because his attention was diverted by a group that rolled into the restaurant and right up to our table. I had to take a few moments to collect myself and remember that it was me who texted Conall to come home. I had it good in Dublin, but I changed the dynamic. I was kicking myself, but there wasn’t much I could do about it unless I wanted to go on the run and never speak to my brothers again. Even then, I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to get away. Maxim didn’t seem the type to let go of his toys.
“What’s this, Maxim?” The man who spoke was sinfully good-looking but a little too cocky for my taste. He obviously knew he was pretty.
The men looked as dangerous as the one I was with, but I recognized the leader. This was another of Conall’s band of merry men.
“Angelo,” Maxim said easily. I was starting to realize he didn’t get ruffled by much. “Here for a slice?”
“Maybe I want what you’re having.” He grinned wickedly at me. “She looks delicious. Want to share?”
“Careful, Angelo.” Maxim’s voice was low and smooth, but there was steel underneath. “You know that some lines don’t get crossed.”
Angelo raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, Maxim. Just making conversation.” His tone was teasing, but the weight in his gaze said otherwise. He was sizing me up and testing boundaries, which I disliked. “Sharing is caring. You’re here at Donna’s. Don’t be so uptight. We’re practically family now, aren’t we?”
“Practically family. That’s right,” Maxim agreed. His tone was so even that it sent a shiver down my spine. He didn’t look away from Angelo, and the tension at the table thickened.
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with how they circled each other verbally. “Is this going to be one of those turf wars, or are we going to eat?” I asked, injecting a little sarcasm into my voice to break the tension.
Angelo’s eyes snapped to mine, his grin turning sharp. “Feisty. I like her.”
Maxim didn’t miss a beat. “She’s mine,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying enough weight to make Angelo’s smile falter for a fraction of a second as his eyes moved to the ring on my finger.
“Damn it, Maxim.” Angelo’s whole face went through an entire host of emotions that I couldn’t understand. I could sense anger and frustration. “Cora O’Kelly, I presume?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed, raising my camera and taking a picture of his startled face. “Nice to meet you.
Angelo shrugged. “See you around.” He stepped back, glancing at his men.
I watched as he and his crew settled at a booth across the room, their laughter and conversation blending into the noise of the pizzeria. Maxim’s gaze followed them until he was satisfied. Only then did he turn his attention back to me.
Leaning back in my seat and folding my arms, I said, “Do you always have to mark your territory like that?”
Maxim smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. “In this world, Cora, hesitation can be dangerous. You show weakness. You get eaten alive.”
“Lovely. Sounds like a great way to live,” I said, watching him.
Confrontation had never been my thing, but I could see the appeal. Men. I mentally rolled my eyes. I suppose when you were a man, things were different. There could be an appealing energy in taking what you wanted. I wondered what it was like—what the pictures looked like.
“It’s been how I’ve survived,” he countered, his tone matter-of-fact. “And now, how I’ll make sure you survive. Strength.”
I was about to argue when the pizzas arrived, the waiter balancing two trays loaded with pies. The smell was divine, and my stomach growled despite the tension still lingering. Maxim thanked the waiter with a curt nod, and I couldn’t help but notice how the man practically scurried away.
“So,” I said, grabbing a slice. “What’s Angelo’s deal? Is he always so… charming?”
Maxim took a slice as well, his movements precise and controlled. “Angelo is a good friend and is normally very charming. He’s also upset,” he added. “About this situation. He’ll do his part but hasn’t been very agreeable.”
The first bite of pizza was a revelation—crispy crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of tangy sauce. God, I’d missed real pizza. For a moment, I forgot I was supposed to be annoyed.Maxim’s words rolled around, and I tried to make sense of them. So, they all four had to get married, then?
Maxim leaned back in his seat. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Do you always give so few answers?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.
His smirk widened. “Fair enough.”
The intensity between us faded for a brief moment, replaced by something lighter. I could almost pretend we were just two people sharing a pizza in Brooklyn. But then his gaze flicked toward Angelo’s table, and I was reminded of exactly who and what he was.
The car ride back to Conall’s apartment felt heavier than the one to the pizzeria. Maybe it was the sheer amount of food I consumed, but I knew better. Maxim was sitting too close in the confined space, his presence taking up all the oxygen.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “is this how it’s going to be? You giving vague answers, me asking too many questions, and your guys looking like they want to murder everyone who breathes wrong?”
Maxim’s lips curved into that maddening smirk of his. “You forgot the part where you pretend not to enjoy it.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe.” He leaned back, the leather of the seat creaking under his weight. “But you’ll get used to it, zayka.”
There’s that nickname again. I bristled, though a tiny part of me enjoyed how it rolled off his tongue. “What does that even mean?”
“Little bunny,” he said smoothly, his gaze flicking to mine. “It suits you.”
My cheeks heated, and liquid pooled between my thighs. “I’m not some helpless thing. Don’t call me that.”
“I didn’t say you were,” he replied, his tone maddeningly calm. “But you are quick, clever, and a little skittish.”
I gaped at him, trying to decide whether to be insulted or flattered. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”
He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Charm isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Yet here you are,” he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to make the space between us feel smaller. “Sitting beside me, wearing my ring.”
My hand automatically went to the ring, its weight already a reminder of everything I’d been roped into. “This is just a formality,” I shot back. “A deal. Nothing more.”
I’d looked at the ring he’d chosen — the ring suited me. It surprised me how much. The stone was overly large, but I was sure that everything the man beside me did was done on a big scale.
His eyes darkened, and the tension in the car shifted. “If you say so.”
I turned away, staring out the window at the blur of Brooklyn’s streets. “So, what’s the plan for this ‘wedding’ of ours?”
Maxim hummed thoughtfully. “Conall mentioned it would be an Irish wedding. Big. Traditional.”
I glanced back at him. “Traditional, huh? What does that mean? You’re going to wear a kilt?”
His laugh surprised me, rich and genuine. “That’s Scottish, zayka. But if you want to see me in one, I can arrange it.”
I rolled my eyes, though the image of him in a kilt—broad shoulders, muscular legs—lingered a little too long in my mind. “Spare me.”
“I’ve already spared you a lot,” he said, his tone turning serious. “But this wedding isn’t just for us. It’s for our families, our alliances.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You mean for your business.”
“Our business,” he corrected, his gaze locking with mine. “Whether you like it or not, Cora, you’re a part of this now.”
I hated how his words sent a shiver down my spine. “Great. Can’t wait to be a pawn in a bunch of old men’s power games.”
“You’re not a pawn,” he said, leaning closer. His voice softened, but there was an edge to it, a promise. “You’ll be my queen. Start acting like it. And I’m not old,” he grumbled.
I swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze pinning me in place. There was something electric in the air between us, something that made it hard to think straight. “You’re unbelievable.”
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks again, and I hated that he was right. Before I could respond, the car stopped in front of Conall’s apartment. Lev opened the door, and Maxim stepped out first, extending a hand to me.
“You’re going to be Mrs. Volkova,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “A queen.”
I ignored his hand, brushing past him as I climbed out of the car. But even as I stomped toward the building, I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my back. And damn it all, a part of me liked it.
The O’Kelly men watched every movement as we headed back into the building, and more than ever, I was aware of the flat-line smirks or the lip curls they gave Maxim and his men. Even if it didn’t bother him, I was finding that it bothered me, and I moved a little closer to him and wrapped my hand around his arm, ignoring the possessive smirk he gave me.
Maxim held up a hand when Lev and Finn moved to get into the elevator with us. “Nyet,” he said to Lev. “I’ll take her up and see her inside.”
I could see that they both wanted to protest, but neither did, and butterflies started as soon as the elevator doors closed, locking me in with Maxim in the small space.
“What was that about?” I asked, breaking the silence. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You sending Lev and Finn away.”
“I wanted a moment alone with my bride-to-be.” His tone was calm, but his eyes glinted with something darker, more deliberate.
I let out a mocking laugh, though it sounded too forced even to my ears. “Bride-to-be. You’re really leaning into this role, aren’t you?”
He shifted closer, not enough to touch me but enough to make me feel him everywhere. “You think I’m playing a role, zayka?” His voice dropped, smooth as silk, and I hated how it made my pulse race.
I swallowed, leaning back against the cold metal of the elevator wall. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”
His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re fiery, clever, stunning. You’ll make a perfect queen.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, though my voice lacked conviction. “I’m not your queen.”
Maxim moved closer, and this time, there was no avoiding him. He was too tall and broad, and his presence was overwhelming in the confined space. He placed one hand on the wall beside my head, caging me in. “Not yet,” he murmured. “But you will be.”
I hated how his words made my stomach flip and how the sheer heat of him made me feel lightheaded. “You’re awfully confident for someone forcing a woman into a marriage.”
“Let’s not pretend you’re being dragged kicking and screaming, Cora,” he said, his breath warm against my skin. “You agreed to this.”
“I agreed to this for my family,” I shot back. “Not for you.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward so his breath was a whisper against my cheek. I wondered for a moment if he was going to kiss me. “But soon, zayka, we will be family.” One hand trailed against my neck, and no matter how hard I pressed against the wall, I couldn’t get any further from the hard press of his body against mine and the evidence that he wanted me. I wondered if I should feel ashamed of myself and fight harder against the feelings of want that I was having.
I moaned.
“Feel how hard I am for you? You’re making me crazy.”
He slid his hand over the edge of my breast, cupping it before bending down to nip at my bottom lip.
Desire unfurled in hot, heavy waves.
Ding
Quick as lightning, he moved away just as the door slid open. Finn was waiting, face redder than a hot skillet. He must have taken the other elevator but looked madder than a hornet.
“Come on, gel.” Finn gestured me towards him, all the while glaring daggers.
I sprinted to the door as if Maxim would run after me, but he didn’t move a muscle as Finn hustled me away and down the hallway to Conall’s door.
“You alright? That fecker tried to be fresh with you?” Finn looked me over carefully.
“I’m okay.”
The last thing I wanted was to escalate some kind of feud between the O’Kellys and the Volkovs. Finn said nothing, but I knew he wanted to ask more questions.
“Text me if you want to go somewhere tomorrow.”
I nodded and, with relief, shut the door behind me.