Chapter 6
MAX
A fter two weeks of having Sydney in my life, we’ve settled into a routine.
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, scotch in hand, watching the lights below glitter against the night sky.
The city pulses beneath me like a living thing, greedy, corrupt, and ready to bleed.
Just like Gerald Mercer and his mercenary business practices.
It’s been another long day of playing my alter ego, another step closer to watching Mercer’s empire crumble into dust. The Kedrov family will have their revenge, and I’ll be the one to deliver it.
To Mercer and his cronies, I’m just another shark circling his failing logistics company, looking for a lucrative buyout.
He has no idea I’m the knife in the dark.
Today we closed another deal that funnels more of his dirty money into accounts I control.
It’s one more step toward getting access to all of his shell companies and his entire capital.
A few more steps and his house of cards will collapse.
The feds will have everything they need.
In a weird twist of events, the Russian mob is working with the FBI to collect evidence of money laundering, bribery, and a human trafficking pipeline.
Mercer’s life ends soon, and I’ll smile while it happens. And so will my Pakhan, the man Mercer betrayed. The man who took me in when I was an orphan living on the streets and gave me an education, a purpose, a life.
I take a slow sip of the scotch. The burn grounding me.
For the last year, days like this left me hollow.
Pretending to be someone else, especially a ruthless and greedy fuck, is emotionally draining and very lonely.
But the dark cloud of depression and apathy that’s been my constant companion for months is gone.
But not tonight, and not any night, because I no longer return home to an empty and lonely space. Now she’s here.
Sydney.
My sugar baby. My possession. The woman I bought for a year.
When I hear the shower turn off in the back of the penthouse, I set the glass down and head for the bedroom, already loosening my tie. She’s there, skin rosy from her after-work-out shower, curled in my bed, wearing one of my shirts, her dark hair fanned across the pillow.
The sight of her hits me low in the gut every single time. Possessive hunger rises fast and sharp.
She smiles when I enter the room, playing with the collar of the shirt, unconsciously scissoring her legs because she’s already turned on.
“I’m home, baby.” I strip off my jacket, shirt, letting her watch.
Her gaze tracks every movement, heat building in her eyes as I remove each piece of clothing.
This is what keeps me sane: the nights with her.
While I dismantle Mercer’s ugly world by day, I lose myself in her body by night, reclaiming who I really am.
Reclaiming her.
I crawl onto the bed, caging her beneath me.
My hand slides under the hem of the shirt, finding bare skin.
“Missed this pussy all day,” I growl against her neck, nipping the sensitive spot I know is there.
She arches into me with a soft moan, her hands gripping my shoulders.
She loves it when I get possessive like this. Craves it.
“Max…” She breathes my name like a prayer as I push the shirt up and off her, exposing her perfect tits. I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard while my hand dips between her thighs. She’s already wet for me.
Always so ready. So perfect for me.
“Fuck, Sydney. You’re soaked. This tight little pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn’t it?” I slide two fingers inside her, curling them, stroking her insides while my thumb puts pressure on her clit.
She gasps, hips rolling against my hand. The dirty talk makes her clench around me. Good girl.
I take my time at first, kissing down her body until my mouth replaces my fingers. I devour her pussy like a man starved, tongue flicking her clit while I grip her thighs, holding her open for me.
She comes fast, crying out, fingers tangled in my hair. I keep licking her through the aftershocks until she’s trembling.
Then I rise and settle my hard, aching cock between her legs, rubbing the thick head through her slick folds. “Look at me,” I command.
Her eyes meet mine, dazed with pleasure. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, and I thrust deep in one smooth stroke, burying myself to the hilt in her tight heat.
“Fuck,” I groan. Nothing feels better than this.
Nothing. This is my salvation.
She’s my salvation.
I set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward, claiming every inch of her. She wraps her legs around me, nails raking down my back. “That’s it, baby. Take my cock. This pussy was made for me.”
I fuck her for a long time, hard and deep, then slower. I’ll never get enough of her and force myself to not come so I can prolong every moment with her.
I flip her onto her hands and knees and take her from behind, one hand fisted gently in her hair and whisper filthy praises in her ear, “Good little girl, milking my cock so perfectly.”
The words make her come again, harder this time, her walls pulsing around me until I can’t hold back. I spill deep inside her with a guttural groan, marking her as mine.
Afterward, I pull her against my chest, stroking her hair as our breathing evens out. The adrenaline from the day mixes with the high of having her.
This must be what happiness feels like. I trace lazy circles on her back, content in the silence.
I still haven’t asked her why she put herself up for auction. The question burns in my throat every time I look at her. Why does a woman like Sydney need that kind of money for a full year? What desperation drove her to sell herself to a stranger?
I don’t ask because I’m not ready to hear an answer that would give an end to our time together. She’s mine for a year, but what if she wants to leave as soon as she’s fixed whatever it is she needed the money for?
And part of me selfishly wants her to tell me without having to ask. I want her to trust me enough to tell me herself, to share more of herself than just her body. She hasn’t told me anything about herself, not even about Ben.
So, I haven’t brought him up either. It’s a messed-up situation that I don’t know how to solve. But my entire life is a fucked-up, made-up mess right now, so I cowardly push our relationship to something I’ll deal with later.
For now, I just pull her closer, grateful she’s here for me to fuck every evening. And grateful she’s here for me to hold every night as I go to sleep.
The next morning, I’m back in the usual game.
I meet with Mercer in his sleek downtown office.
The warm day has him sweating, despite the AC.
I lay out the next phase of the off-shore “investments.” He should pay more attention to the details, but he’s too greedy to care.
Plus, we’ve been doing business together for almost three years now. Surely, I wouldn’t betray him?
I would and I will.
By next week, we’ll have the final transfers ready. The evidence against him is ironclad. The Kedrov family will finally have its revenge. The only detail left to work out is whether Mercer finds out who took him down as he sits in prison, or in real time, while we’re crushing his life.
I spend the rest of the day in my cover office, reviewing reports, making calls that tighten the noose. Progress feels good.
Revenge will feel even better.
By late afternoon, I’m buzzing with sexual frustration, eager to get back to Sydney.
But first, there’s a meeting with Rik on the schedule.
The Kedrov Pakhan doesn’t summon people lightly.
I drive to the secure location on the outskirts, an old warehouse converted into a fortress.
Guards nod me through. To them, I’m just some shady businessman who’s meeting with their boss.
They have no idea I’m part of the family.
Only my Pakhan and my half-brother knows that.
But he thinks I gave up the Bratva life to become a common white-collar criminal. That I betrayed the family. We haven’t talked for three years.
Rik is waiting in the back room, flanked by two of his most trusted men. He’s a decade older than me, but in excellent shape, sharp-eyed, and wicked smart. The kind of man who built an empire on blood and loyalty.
He waves his men out of the room. “Maxim,” he greets me, voice low. We clasp forearms. “Progress?” He grew up on the streets of Moscow, but then went to school in England. The Slavic language still colors his crisp British accent.
“Mercer is finished,” I tell him. “One more week, maybe two. His company will be ours to dismantle. The trafficking routes are already disrupted. The family will have justice.”
Rik nods, but his expression is grave. “Good. But there is a complication.”
My stomach tightens. “What kind?”
“Your cover. There are whispers. Someone close to Mercer has been digging. They may have connected Maxim Volkov to the Kedrovs. Maybe not fully, but enough to be suspicious.” He leans forward. “And the girl. The one from the auction.”
Ice floods my veins. “What about her?”
He studies me for a beat. He never asked or said anything about me acquiring Sydney, but I know he thinks it was a stupid move.
“Mercer was at the auction. If your identity is compromised, she becomes a target. Mercer’s people don’t play clean.
They’ll use her to get to you. To us.” Scratching his jaw, he watches me again, as if weighing how much to tell me.
“The person doing the digging, it might be Victor Lang.”
The room narrows. Sydney. In danger because of me.
Because I bought her, because I couldn’t stay away from her at night. Because I humiliated Victor Lang in front of other people.
The possessiveness I feel for her surges, and it’s laced with fierce protectiveness.
“I’ll handle it,” I say, voice hard. “She’s under my protection. No one touches her.”
Rik studies me for a long moment. “Be careful, Maxim. Revenge is close. Don’t let a woman distract you from the goal.”
But she’s not just a woman. She’s mine. And the thought of anyone threatening her makes something dark and violent uncoil inside me. “What would you do if it were Perla.”
Anger flares in Rik’s eyes when I mention his wife’s name, but then he calmly studies me. “So it’s like that.”
I nod. “It’s like that.”
“Get her somewhere safe. Protect her.”
I leave the meeting with my mind racing. Shielding Sydney from danger is my highest priority now. I need to find out exactly how much Mercer knows, if anything.
Most of all, I need to get back to Sydney and make sure she’s safe.
I floor the accelerator, heading home, my mind feverishly working on a plan to implement once I get there.