10. Maxim
10
MAXIM
V eronica is still in the games room, perched on the edge of the armchair I abandoned, her posture stiff, her expression uncertain.
Her fingers twitch against the armrests, and I can see her debating whether to stay or leave as I come in. Her wariness is palpable, and it only tightens the knot in my chest. I see the scar on her arm and mine seems to burn with pain.
My jaw tightens as my gaze locks onto her, her wide eyes snapping to mine. Her chin tilts up, defiance flashing there despite the vulnerability she’s trying to hide.
I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of her, my cane tapping softly against the floor as I shift my weight. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to speak. “We need to talk.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back slightly in the chair. “Oh, now you want to talk? What happened to ‘not her’?”
The corner of my mouth twitches, but the smirk doesn’t fully form. “Fate is fucking with us both, it seems.”
“Why didn’t you stay with me?” she asks, her voice softer. “The night you saved me.”
“I had a business deal to conclude,” I reply, my tone flat. “I got shot. Twice. First one fucked my hip. Second put me in a coma.”
Her lips part slightly, her expression shifting from disbelief to something closer to understanding? Pity? No. I can’t stand the thought of anyone pitying me, especially not her.
She exhales slowly, her brow furrowing. “I remember something else. Someone talking to me. Covering me with a jacket.” Her voice lowers. “That was you, wasn’t it? I didn’t dream it, did I?”
“No.” I shift my cane to my other hand, the weight of her gaze unsettling in a way I can’t explain. “You never gave me my jacket back, by the way.”
For a moment, silence hangs between us. Then, to my surprise, she snorts—a soft, involuntary sound that turns into a faint laugh.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, her tone dry but laced with humor. “Should I FedEx it to you?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I wouldn’t trust it to arrive with those incompetent assholes.”
Her laugh softens, and for a fleeting moment, the tension in the room eases. She studies me, her sharpness dulled by curiosity.
Her eyes meet mine, and something flickers there—reluctant acceptance, maybe, or at least a sliver of trust. It’s enough to make my chest ache, a sensation I refuse to name.
She leans back slightly, her fingers drumming against the armrest. “So, what now? Are you going to tell me this whole ridiculous marriage idea is your way of making up for leaving me alone without even telling me your name?”
“Something like that,” I admit, my tone dry. “Maxim Stepanov.”
“Veronica Bennett.”
“I know your name. Sixty days. That’s it.”
She studies me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And what happens after sixty days?”
“After sixty days, I’ll be Pakhan,” I reply. “Marco and Vito will be dead. This will all be over. For both of us. You can get on with your life.”
I see the flicker of fear she tries to hide. But then her chin lifts again, her stubbornness shining through. “I have terms.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “You have terms?”
“Yes, terms,” she says, crossing her arms again. “I want a bookstore. My own bookstore. And a place to live near it when this is over.”
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. “Anything else? Wine in the faucets?”
She narrows her eyes, clearly suspicious of how easily I agreed. “No, that’s it.”
“Good.” I extend my hand to her. “Then we have a deal.”
She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flicking between my hand and my face. Then, slowly, she reaches out and takes it. The moment her fingers touch mine, something sparks—sharp and electric, shooting straight through me.
Her eyes widen slightly, and I know she feels it too.
Our hands linger for a beat too long before she pulls hers back, her expression guarded once again. “Guess we’re doing this,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.
“Guess we are,” I reply. The storm in my chest rages on, but beneath it, something else stirs—something dangerous. “If this is going to work, you’ll need to follow my lead. No questioning me. No defiance. You’ll do exactly as I say, whenever I say it. Like a proper Bratva bride.”
Her eyes narrow, the spark of defiance flaring immediately. “Excuse me? You think you can boss me around for sixty days and I’ll just roll over and obey?”
I lean in, a smirk forming, sharp and dangerous. “Yes, Veronica. That’s exactly what I think. For this to look real, we need to play our roles. And my role is the husband who’s in control. Completely.”
“Control,” she echos, folding her arms across her chest. “What exactly are you planning to ‘control,’ Maxim? My schedule? My wardrobe? Or is this the part where you tell me I’m no longer allowed to eat carbs?”
“Carbs aren’t my concern. Your obedience is.”
Her lips twitch, and she can’t resist pushing me further. “So, what kind of commands are we talking about here? Do I need to call you ‘master’? Kneel when you enter the room?”
“Be careful, Veronica. You might not like the answer.”
“Try me.”
I lean in closer, my voice a low murmur that is meant for her ears alone. “When I tell you to hold my hand in public, you’ll do it. When I tell you to smile, you’ll smile. And when I touch you—when I kiss you—you’ll act like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.”
Heat floods her face, and for a moment, she’s too stunned to respond. The image my words conjure is far too vivid. She shakes her head quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “And if I don’t?”
“Then Marco wins. Is that what you want?”
She grits her teeth, hating how easily I’ve backed her into a corner. “Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to make this easy for you.”
I chuckle again, and this time there’s genuine amusement in it. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Dmitri joins in with the laughter, slipping an arm around Elena. “I’m glad that’s settled. The engagement party invites have already gone out. Would be embarrassing to cancel.”
Veronica scowls. “So I’m marrying him to prevent you being embarrassed?”
“No,” Elena says. “You’re marrying him so Marco can’t ever hurt you again.”