Chapter 21 Hollie
HOLLIE
Hot tea warms the mug in my hands, bread toasts in the toaster next to me, and soft music drifts through the penthouse while I stare off into space.
All I can think about is Maxim.
Since learning the truth a couple of days ago at the club, everything I thought I knew has changed.
As the daughter of a cop, I never considered murder justifiable growing up.
Dad was always pretty clear in his beliefs as to right and wrong, and while we sometimes argued about the morality of it, I mostly agreed with him.
Until now.
Those women at the club are scared. Scared because the protection they gained from Maxim was ripped away by two monsters.
The few details Nancy gave me were enough to turn my stomach, and now when I think of the man dying in front of me in the pizzeria, the guilt doesn’t appear.
Only disgust. And hope that he suffered more than what he put those poor women through.
Does that make me as bad as him? Maxim kissing me in the car was doubly unexpected and I can’t explain to myself why I thought it was a good idea to go with it. I just… did. It felt nice. It felt right. I can’t explain it.
Grumbling to myself, I bury my thoughts in my tea until my toast pops, then I aggressively butter it.
Maxim hasn’t mentioned the kiss since he was called away to whatever mysterious work he gets up to for the Mafia, but the few times we crossed paths like silent ships in the night, he smirked at me.
That smirk lingers in the forefront of my mind and ignites an alluring warmth up and down my bare arms.
It’s ridiculous. I should hate him.
I thought I did.
Now he’s a savior and a man who offers countless business opportunities to women in need. He protects people and refuses to harm the innocent. It explains clearer why he married me rather than just killing me like I feared.
What an odd way to move. He’s almost more ethical than some of my Dad’s cop buddies.
Biting into my toast, I wander through to the empty lounge and drop into one of the plush leather sofas just as music rises from my phone.
“Dad?” I say as soon as I answer. “Everything okay?”
“Hi. I thought you weren’t working today?”
Another bite of my toast. “I’m not.”
“Well, are you going to let me in?”
“Huh?” Sitting up slowly, I glance toward the door. “You’re here?”
“Yes! I wanted to come and see you.”
Confusion swirls in my chest. How does he know where to find me? I never—oh! It hits like a sharp sting where the confusion stems from, and I groan softly, almost choking on my next bite of toast.
“Wait there! I’m just at the store!”
“I can come and meet you.”
“No, honestly, I’m like two minutes away. I’ll be back in a sec!”
Hanging up, I abandon my tea and toast and fly into the bedroom, grab my coat, and sprint for the elevator. Toto answers my call on his second ring.
“S’up?”
“I need you to take me home,” I gasp breathlessly as the elevator descends.
“Excuse me?”
“My dad came to visit me, but I never told him I’m staying with Maxim, so he’s at my old apartment! I need you to drive me there right now!”
“Two minutes?” Dad stands at the base of the steps leading up to my apartment building as I sprint toward him. Toto dropped me off around the block so as not to raise suspicion, but it took the better part of twenty minutes to get here.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp as I slide to a stop in front of him, kicking up some of the snow coating the street. “I got talking to an old friend and time just…” I wave my hands and then pull him into a hug. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You got talking so intently that you forgot your groceries?” Dad hugs me back with one arm and gazes down at my empty hands. “I thought you went to the store?”
“I did!” Shit. “I, uhm… y’know, there was just nothing there I needed. I was just hungry and you know what they say. Always shop on a full stomach.”
“Do they say that?” He looks at me quizzically, but I quickly brush him off and jog up the steps.
“I hope they do. Anyway, come in!” Sliding my key in the lock, I let myself into my apartment and am immediately hit by the smell of rotten food.
“Oh, no,” I whisper under my breath. There’s a brief moment where I pray Dad won’t notice, but his nose scrunches before he’s even halfway through the door.
“Hollie, what’s that smell?”
“Uhm… what smell?” I hurry toward the kitchen with him in tow.
“You don’t smell that?”
“No, I don't smell anything. What do you smell?”
“Old takeout and off milk.” He grimaces and beelines for my fridge.
I try to play off the stink and act like I’m blind to the smell, shaking my head. “I smell nothing. It must just be your nose.”
“Really?” He turns away from the fridge, delicately holding some old Chinese takeout containers, very clearly long past their shelf life. “How busy are you that you don’t smell this?”
“Honestly, I’m working so much, I’m barely home!” Strained laughter escapes me and together, we clear out the fridge, dispose of all food long past its edible date, and give the place a good clean.
None of this ever crossed my mind. I’ve been so caught up in the whirlwind of Maxim, the marriage, his father, and the club on top of my own gigs that my own apartment just faded from my thoughts. I try not to think about that even now as I turn on the kettle and gather two mugs.
“Coffee?”
“As long as there’s nothing growing out of the mug.”
“They’re fine,” I assure him with a laugh.
“You haven’t decorated?” Dad settles on the stool near the island counter and glances back toward my lounge, which hasn’t seen a lick of love since July 4th.
“I haven’t had time.”
“You always decorate.”
“I know.” I place a hot mug of coffee down in front of him alongside a small dish of sugar. “I’ve just been really busy.”
“With work?”
“Mhm.”
“And your new husband.”
I freeze momentarily, staring down into my coffee mug and then nodding. “Yep.”
“Things are moving fast there, aren’t they?”
There it is. The real reason he’s here. I knew he didn’t just drop by to talk about decorations. Not that I can blame him. Swiveling to face him, I lean my elbows on the counter across from him and hug my mug with both hands. “When you know, you know.”
“In all my years on the force, a fast marriage like that is rarely a good sign.”
“You worry too much, Dad.”
“Your Mom worries too. She says she saw what she thought was a bruise under your eye when you were with us for decorating.”
I freeze. I’d used all the makeup I had available to cover myself up for going outside after Stu hit me and Maxim’s father tried to kill me. I had no idea she noticed.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Are you?” He squints at me. “I’ve been on the force for a long time, Hollie. I’ve seen a lot of things.”
“I know you have.”
“Just say the word and you’ll never see him again.”
His offer is as warm as his words, and my heart swells at the concern flooding his eyes. For every day my mother has volunteered or signed me up for something against my knowledge, my father has been there to help me through it and sneak me something to keep my spirits up.
He looks out for me.
But it’s my turn to look out for him.
Maxim’s father won’t forget what I saw, and I don’t doubt his reach. My marriage to Maxim extends protection to my parents, and it’s the only way to keep them safe.
“I love you, Dad. And I love that you look out for me. The bruise Mom saw was from work. An unruly guest was mad at what he had to pay for drinks and I was in the firing line.”
His eyes narrow. “And you didn’t call the cops?”
“It was Thanksgiving. I was more concerned about having a bruise on my eye in my wedding pictures than anything else. It happens a lot, you know. New York isn’t that safe.”
“How often?”
“Not to me!” I assure him with a laugh, taking his hand. “I just mean in general.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but it’s enough for him to agreeably change topics.
We talk about Christmas and Mom, her plans for Christmas dinner, and her not-so-subtle way of asking me to play at New Year’s for her friends.
She just wants to show me off. I suspect she’s just trying to find ways to persuade me to stay, like she’s done ever since I mentioned leaving the States.
That dream isn’t dead, it’s just on pause. I’m not sure where my future can lead with a Mafia prince shackled to me.
By the time Dad leaves, night has fallen. I’ll need to explain all of this to Maxim and find a polite way to tell my parents where I live now. It feels like too big a bombshell to drop after the wedding.
“How is your father?” Toto asks as I approach the car.
“He’s fine. Concerned.”
“Why?”
“Stu gave me a black eye, remember?”
Toto winces. “That’s why he avoids you.”
“Is he scared of me?”
Toto shrugs. “More upset by what he did. He’ll apologize when he’s made peace with himself.”
“Good for him.” As I’m climbing into the car, my phone buzzes to life once more. This time, it’s Tiffany.
“Darling!” Tiffany yells. “Listen, I know it’s late, but I have an emergency booking for you!”
“Tiff—”
“I know, I know, nothing without warning, but this guy is so desperate. He needs a musician for next weekend and he’s paying an obscene amount for a quick booking, and I just know you deserve this kind of money, so can you meet him?”
“Tiff, it’s really late.”
“I know, but think of the money!”
“I don’t have my equipment with me.”
“I’ve already sent him samples. He just wants to put a face to the name, plus, he’s a fan. Please? It would be amazing for both of us. Come on, say yes!”
After a few minutes of quiet deliberation, I agree and give the change of address to Toto. He makes a call while redirecting the car, and when we arrive at the restaurant, I spot Stu parked across the street.
They take changes seriously.
With Toto lingering behind me, I head into the restaurant but before I can open my mouth to speak to the woman at the desk, a man surges up from a nearby seat.
“Miss Wolfe?”
I greet him with a smile. “Yes. You are?”
“I’m Mr. Havershire. Your agent, Tiffany, told me you’d meet me here.”
“And you knew it was me?”
“I confess I’m a fan of your work. Your agent was so eager for the booking that I’m not sure if she caught that part of my request. I know who you are.” He holds out his hand and smiles widely. “I won’t keep you a moment.”
Accepting his hand, I shake it with a smile and the small gold watch on his wrist jingles and slips, revealing a heart tattoo on his wrist.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“Well, my last musician dropped out of my event next weekend and I need someone to play a few intimate songs because I’m planning on proposing to my girlfriend. It’s embarrassing, but I tried to book you initially a few months ago, but your agent told me back then that you were fully booked.”
“This time of year is so hectic with bookings and cancellations so she was probably right.” I chuckle. “I’d be happy to. If you tell me when and where, I’m certain I can be there.”
“Excellent! I really just wanted to meet you face-to-face to make sure I wasn’t being tricked. You know how it can be.”
“I’d be honored if someone were trying to impersonate me.” I laugh softly. “How much is your budget?”
“Fifteen thousand.”
“For the whole event?”
“No.” His brows lift. “That’s just for you.”
It’s hard to remain professional in the wake of such an amount and I swallow down my shock as I reach for his hand again.
“That’s… amazing! I will most definitely be there!”