Chapter 33 – MAKSIM
Thirty-Three
MAKSIM
The office smells like fresh paint and drywall. New floors, custom furniture, everything about it feels permanent now, even if I never planned for it to be. But the thought of leaving again, of leaving her behind, feels unfathomable.
The idea should terrify me. Maybe deep down it does.
But when I think of her, all I feel is…light.
Maybe even hope. And I know I’m well and truly fucked when I start missing her after only a few hours apart.
When I catch myself sitting here, scribbling down ways to make her smile while Pavel’s voice runs through intel on the line, numbers, names, routes, things I should be focused on.
But she slips in anyway. My girl has a way of rewiring me without trying.
She shouldn’t be under my skin like this.
Not when I’ve got missing shipments, crooked middlemen, and a drive full of names belonging to men who think they can disrespect me because I’m new in town.
Men who believe I don’t deserve my empire, that I didn’t earn it.
Not here. And not the way my father did, or his before him.
Fuck them.
I should be dissecting routes, hunting leaks. Instead, I’m thinking about her lips, the sounds she makes when she comes, and how that sweet little cunt was dripping for me.
“Shit,” I huff, straightening in my chair and adjusting my cock.
Pavel’s voice cuts through the line again in Russian. Logistics, ports, shipment delays—same shit, different continent.
“Martin’s dead. Find me men worth a damn,” I fire off.
He grumbles something under his breath. I don’t care.
A month back in Philly, and I’m already drowning in weak links and half-assed loyalty. I spent years turning men into machines over there. Here, they’re soft. Men like Martin, like Shane, they talk too much and bleed too easily.
But it’s not all bad. Rocky as it began, the network’s coming together. Quiet meetings, threats, and payoffs. Running guns, cars, and cleaning cash. The bones are there. Just need more blood in the dirt to make it stick. Maybe this place can be something. And I can make a home here again.
With her.
I shake my head and grin at the lunacy of it all. But I won’t give her up. I meant what I said.
Valentina is mine.
Having been privy to the inner workings of the darkest parts of this world, yet none of it scares her. That should bother me more than it does. It should make me want to push her away for good.
But it doesn’t.
If anything, it makes me want to pull her closer. Because if she can stomach this, if she can look at me, knowing exactly what kind of man I am, and still want me…
Pavel breaks me from those thoughts, and maybe it’s for the better.
“Is there anything you need?” he asks, sounding like he’s got more important places to be.
“Pavel,” I say, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I want every man on my roster triple checked. I don’t care if they’ve been with us five years or five minutes. Start digging. Anyone even twitches the wrong way, you bury them.”
There’s a pause on the line, then. “Understood.”
I hang up before he can say more. The silence hits different now. It’s the kind that makes you realize your choices start stacking bodies. I never gave it a second thought, maybe even enjoyed it. But now it creeps in when I picture Valentina caught in the crosshairs of this life.
She’s built for the tough shit, harder than most men I know. If Derek Cain did one thing right, it was making sure his daughter could walk into hell and come out untouched.
I push up from the chair, shove my phone in my back pocket, and head for the door, leaving Pavel and all the other bullshit exactly where it belongs, behind me.
Dusk bleeds into the skyline as I slide behind the wheel. Traffic’s crawling, and headlights stretch for miles, but I don’t give a fuck. I need to see her.
For a second, I think about calling and giving her a heads-up.
Then I don’t. She’s expecting me anyway. Said she was cooking tonight. And when I offered to bring something and advised her to take it easy, she told me to shut up and let her feed me. How could I argue with that? I rolled to a stop at a red light, laughing to myself like an idiot.
Goddamn, this woman.
She doesn’t need to prove anything, not to me. But she’s trying anyway. And I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t pull something tight in my chest that I’ve never felt before. It scares the shit out of me. Not because I don’t want it. But because maybe…I do.
Eventually, we’ll have to tell the others, tell the family—tell Derek.
Val hasn’t said much, but I know she’s nervous about telling her dad.
They have a tight bond, and she values his opinion.
It would gut her if he rejected us outright.
Her pain would hurt my heart. But I’m a selfish bastard who has never claimed to be anything else.
And I won’t let her go unless it’s what she wants… and even then, I’ll have her anyway.
When I reach her condo, I slide into my usual spot and take the stairs two at a time, bound up all five stories.
I don’t have the fucking patience for the elevator, not when I’ve missed the hell out of my girl all day.
My hands itch to touch her soft skin, to dip into the places that now belong to me.
I lean on the doorway, slightly winded from my sprint, and knock twice.
No answer.
I ring the doorbell. Wait.
There’s a low hum from the TV inside, muffled dialogue, and the jingle of a soundtrack. Maybe she’s in the shower. I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over the screen.
Then I hear it. Sharp barks. Apollo. Hermes. They’re alert.
Good.
ME: Hey, beautiful. I’m at the door. Should I use the key?
As savage as I am, Mom taught me a few things—like manners.
Just barging in unannounced for the first time feels.
..wrong. Too much, too soon. But if she doesn’t answer in five seconds, fuck etiquette.
The blank screen taunts me, and I exhale hard, raking a hand across my chest, trying to smother the rising panic.
Apollo and Hermes know me. They’ve gotten used to my presence. But their restlessness from the other side of the door isn’t their norm. They’re on high alert, ready to tear someone apart to protect her.
Same as me.
I shove the key in and turn.
They don’t move. Hermes growls deep in warning. I’m not the enemy, but I’m not fully trusted either. Not in this moment when I walk in without her consent.
“Good boys,” I murmur, a hand raised.
Apollo relaxes first, stepping forward to lick my hand when I offer it. Hermes follows, bumping his snout against my thigh in cautious recognition.
“Where’s Valentina?”
Apollo trots ahead, like he understands, and I follow him straight into the living room. The TV plays some romcom bullshit in the background, and the door to her bedroom is cracked open.
“Valentina, I tried—”
The words stall in my throat when I see her cast split open on the floor. But there’s no sign of her. My pulse spikes, a deep, violent thrum behind my ribs. I move into the ensuite.
Empty.
Fuck.
Panic clamps down on my chest like a vise. I can’t breathe as every dark scenario comes crashing in. She wouldn’t leave like this. Not without saying something, and not without that fucking cast.
Something’s wrong.
I tear through the living room and out the front door. My feet barely touch the steps as I race down all five flights again, rage and fear tangling in my throat.
She’s okay. She has to be. She just stepped out. Maybe with Remi.
But why remove her cast?
None of this adds up.
I hit the bottom floor running, pull my phone again, and hover over Derek’s name. I need the surveillance feed. Hallway. Garage. I need to know she left on her own.
Then I hear it.
A motorcycle engine growls to life, echoing through the parking garage. I turn, tracking the sound as it rips past me. The rider, lean, white helmet, curves I’d know anywhere, glances my way.
Valentina.
She doesn’t stop or slow. But just before she disappears around the corner, her hand lifts from the handlebar, and she gives me the finger.