Chapter 6 – Maxim
The office door opened without a knock. Not Lev’s heavy footsteps or Cassandra’s quiet efficiency. This was different. Confident heels on marble, the kind that said fuck you and your rules.
A woman walked in like she owned the place, honey-blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, green eyes that caught everything and gave nothing back. She wore a chic blazer that probably cost more than most people made in a month, and she carried herself like someone who’d never been told no.
She tossed a flash drive onto my desk without ceremony. The plastic clattered against the wood, spinning once before coming to rest next to my coffee cup.
“Zara Delgado,” she said, settling into the chair across from me like we were old friends meeting for lunch instead of…whatever the fuck this was.
I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral. In my world, staying colder than your opponent wasn’t just strategy. It was survival.
“Should I know you?”
“Eleanor’s friend. Her PR specialist. And the person who’s going to make your life very complicated if you don’t listen carefully.”
I glanced at the flash drive, then back at her face. “I’m listening.”
“That contains security footage from outside Eleanor’s office.
You were smart enough to cut the main security feed but not the backup ones.
Timestamp shows exactly when you grabbed her.
High definition, multiple angles, face clearly visible.
” She crossed her legs, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’d just walked into a lion’s den.
“I’ve got backups. Lots of them. In very safe places. ”
Shit.
“Interesting.” I picked up the drive, turning it over in my fingers. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Because I want my friend back. Alive. Unharmed. Today.”
I set the drive down and studied her face. No tremor in her voice, no tell in her posture. Either she was very good at hiding fear, or she was too stupid to be properly afraid. In my experience, both types were dangerous.
“Eleanor isn’t the target,” I said finally. “She’s collateral. She’s alive, safe, fed. That’s more consideration than most people in her position receive.”
“Collateral.” Zara’s voice turned sharp as broken glass. “That’s what you call kidnapping an innocent woman? Collateral?”
“I call it leverage.”
“Against William Beaumont? You really think that bastard gives a shit about his daughter?”
That got my attention. I’d done my research on William, knew he was a cold fuck who treated his family like business assets. But hearing it confirmed by someone who knew Eleanor personally was…useful.
“You sound like you know him well.”
“I know enough. I know he threw Eleanor under the bus every time his business needed a scapegoat. I know he missed her college graduation because a construction deal in Miami was more important. I know he hasn’t called her in three months, not even on her birthday.”
Zara leaned forward, her eyes blazing with the kind of protective fury that made smart men reconsider their choices.
“So whatever you’re planning, whatever sick game you think you’re playing, it won’t work.
William Beaumont doesn’t negotiate for family.
He doesn’t even acknowledge family unless it serves his purposes. ”
She stood up, smoothing down her blazer with sharp, precise movements. “You want William? Go after William. Leave Eleanor out of it.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click that somehow managed to sound like a gunshot. I stared at the flash drive for a long moment, turning her words over in my mind.
I’d known William was cold. The kind of man who climbed over bodies to reach the top and never looked back to see the damage. But I’d assumed he had limits. Everyone had limits.
Maybe I’d been wrong.
I opened my laptop and slid the drive into the USB port. The video file loaded quickly, showing multiple camera angles of the street outside Eleanor’s building. There I was, grabbing her from behind. Lev in the getaway car. Professional, efficient, and completely fucking incriminating.
Zara Delgado wasn’t bluffing. She had everything she needed to destroy me.
My phone buzzed. Text from one of my contacts in the media. Three words that made my blood run cold: “Check the news.”
I pulled up the Chicago Tribune website. The headline hit me like a physical blow.
CONSTRUCTION MOGUL DISOWNS DAUGHTER AFTER KIDNAPPING
The article was brief but brutal. William Beaumont, speaking through his legal team, had issued a statement claiming no knowledge of Eleanor’s whereabouts and specifically stating that any debts or obligations incurred by his “estranged daughter” were not his responsibility.
Estranged daughter. The words tasted like acid.
He’d thrown her to the wolves without hesitation. Publicly, completely, and with the kind of calculated cruelty that took real fucking talent.
I closed the laptop and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The plan had been simple. Grab the daughter, use her as leverage, force William into a position where he had to choose between his reputation and his family.
Instead, the bastard had chosen option three: cut her loose and let the world know she meant nothing to him.
Fuck.
FUCK.
My office door opened again. This time it was Lev, carrying coffee and wearing the kind of grin that usually meant he was about to say something that would piss me off.
“Saw the news,” he said, settling into the chair Zara had vacated. “Your boy William just fucked you six ways from Sunday.”
“I noticed.”
“So what’s the play now? Kill the girl and cut our losses?”
The words hit me wrong, sparking something violent in my chest. “No.”
“No?” Lev raised an eyebrow. “Maxim, she’s useless now. Worse than useless. She’s a liability. Every hour we keep her is another hour for the feds to track us down.”
“I said no.”
“Then what? We’re just going to keep her as a pet?”
I stood up, needing to move, needing to think. The plan was fucked. Completely, totally fucked. But walking away wasn’t an option. Not when I’d invested this much, come this far.
“There’s another way,” he said slowly, gears spinning as he spoke. “Marriage.”
I almost choked on air. “What?”
“We force a marriage. Eleanor becomes your wife, and suddenly William Beaumont looks like the kind of man who abandons his daughter to the Bratva. His reputation, his political connections, his carefully constructed image of being a family man…all of it goes to shit.”
“That’s….” I paused, considering. “Actually fucking brilliant. He’ll be caught between protecting his reputation and continuing to deny his own daughter. Either choice destroys him.”
“Exactly.”
“But there’s one problem.”
“What?”
“The girl has to agree to marry me. And somehow, I don’t think she’s going to be thrilled about the idea.”
I thought about Eleanor’s eyes when she’d called me a monster. The fire in her voice when she’d told me my plan wouldn’t work. The way she’d looked small and defiant and completely fucking fearless in that elegant prison I’d built for her.
“She’ll agree,” he said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re going to give her a choice. Marriage, or you kill her father yourself and let the pieces fall where they may.”
I whistled low. “That’s cold.”
Maybe it was cold. Maybe it was cruel, but it was smart. William Beaumont had made this personal when he’d set up that ambush in Prague. When he’d gotten my men killed and nearly put me in the ground.
He wanted to play games? Fine. I’d show him what a real fucking game looked like.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Lev called after me.
“To think.”
***
I headed to Eleanor’s…prison the next day. The elevator ride down to the basement felt longer than usual. Each floor that passed gave me more time to think about what I was about to do. About what I was about to ask of her.
Eleanor was sitting on the bed when I entered, wearing one of Anya’s hoodies and a pair of shorts that should have been illegal.
The fabric of the hoodie hung loose, but the way she sat made it shift, revealing just enough to pull my eyes where they shouldn’t go.
Her hair was clean, pulled back in that high ponytail that always made my fingers itch to wrap around it and hold her still.
She looked up when I walked in, those hazel eyes locking on mine with the kind of direct challenge most people were too smart to give me.
“Let me guess,” she said, closing the book she had been reading. “You saw the news.”
“I did.”
“So now you know I was right. Daddy dearest doesn’t give a shit about his little girl. Your plan is fucked, and you’re stuck with a hostage who’s worth exactly nothing to anyone.”
“Not nothing,” I said, moving closer to the bed. “You are worth something to me.”
She tensed, and I saw the subtle shift in her posture as she read danger in my voice. Smart girl.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I have a new plan. One that does not require your father’s cooperation.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to smell her shampoo.
Clean, warm, something faintly sweet. Close enough to see the pulse beating fast in her throat.
My thigh brushed against the edge of hers when she shifted, and I felt my fingers curl against my knee, the urge to touch her building like a slow burn under my skin.
“You are going to marry me, Eleanor.”
She went completely still. Not frozen with fear, but with the kind of shock that comes just before explosive anger.
“Excuse me?”
“Marriage. You become my wife, and your father looks like exactly what he is. A man who abandons his daughter to the Bratva. His reputation, his political connections, everything he’s built…it all crumbles.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then laughed. It was sharp and bitter, completely without humor.
“You’re insane. Actually, certifiably fucking insane.”
“I’m practical.”
“You’re delusional if you think I am going to marry you. What’s next? You want me to have your babies, too? Play house in your murder mansion?”
Heat flashed through me at the image her words painted. Eleanor, round with my child, wearing my ring, belonging to me in every way that mattered.
“The marriage doesn’t have to be real,” I said, though the words tasted like lies. “Just legal. Just long enough to destroy your father.”
“And then what? You kill me? Dump me somewhere and pretend it never happened?”
“Then you’re free to go.”
She studied my face, searching for tells, for signs of deception. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe. I care what you choose.”
“This isn’t a choice. This is coercion.”
I leaned in, close enough that she could feel my breath on her skin. “Everything is a choice, Eleanor. You can marry me, or I can kill your father and let you live with the knowledge that your stubbornness put him in the ground.”
Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with something that wasn’t quite fear. “You’re threatening to murder my father if I don’t marry you.”
“I’m giving you options.”
“Those aren’t options. That’s extortion.”
“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night.”
She was breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling in a way that pulled my gaze even when I told myself not to look. The hoodie was too big for her, but somehow that made it worse. I couldn’t stop picturing what was underneath it.
“I need time to think.”
“You have until tomorrow morning.”
“That isn’t enough time.”
“It’s all the time you get.”
She shoved me, hard enough that it rocked me back a fraction, not enough to move me far. Then, she punched my chest. It didn’t hurt, but it sent a jolt straight through me. When she went for another swing, I caught her wrists. Not to hurt her, but to hold her still.
Something shifted in that moment. The tension between us changed shape, sharp edges melting into something hotter, more dangerous. I felt her pulse hammering against my fingers, and I knew she could feel mine. Her eyes locked on mine, daring me. Testing me.
The dam broke. Our mouths met in a violent, breathless collision.
There was nothing soft about it. Her lips were warm, insistent, and she matched me beat for beat, pulling at my shirt until her knuckles pressed against my chest. My grip on her wrists loosened just enough for her to slide her hands up to my shoulders, dragging me closer.
The kiss deepened, turning into something slow for a heartbeat before the heat surged again.
My lips left hers, moving to her neck, feeling the rush of her pulse under my mouth, tasting the heat of her skin.
She let out a sound—half gasp, half growl—that made my control slip another inch.
My hands found her waist, fingers digging in as I began to lift her toward the wall.
Her palm pressed flat to my chest, firm but not frantic. I stopped instantly, breathing hard, searching her face for the reason.
“I’m a virgin,” she said, her cheeks flushed but her voice steady. “And I don’t want my first time against a wall.”
Her gaze flicked toward the corner of the room. “Or with an audience.”
I followed her eyes to the camera. My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to let her go, stepping back slowly even though every muscle in my body was screaming to close the distance again.
“Understood.”
I didn’t tell her I’d been holding back more than she could imagine. I didn’t tell her that the excess I was containing could have burned this whole place to the ground.
She broke the silence. “And if I say no to your plan?”
“Then your father deals with me directly. And he will not like the outcome.” I moved to the door, still tasting her on my lips. “Tomorrow morning, Eleanor. Give me your answer.”
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I leaned against it, dragging air into my lungs like I had just gone ten rounds in the ring.
This was supposed to be about revenge. About justice for the men who had died because of William Beaumont’s betrayal.
So why did it feel like I was the one being punished?