Chapter 9 MAYA
Nine
MAYA
I wake up the week before Christmas with a rock on my finger and a Russian mobster wrapped around me.
Best. Life. Ever. And we haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.
Mikhail’s still asleep, which is rare. He’s usually up before me, doing whatever intense morning routine Bratva bosses do.
But right now, he’s dead to the world, his ruggedly handsome face buried in my hair, one heavy arm pinning me to the mattress.
I shift slightly, trying to catch my ring in the early morning light filtering through the curtains.
It’s huge. The kind that makes people do double-takes.
And I freaking love it. Every time I look at it, I remember the way he slid it on my finger.
Like my broke ass wearing this massive rock is the most natural thing in the world.
“Stop staring at it,” he mumbles against my neck.
I yelp, startled. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Until you started wiggling.”
I giggle. “I wasn’t wiggling.”
“Mmh.” He pulls me tighter against him. “Well, now I’m awake.”
“Sorry,” I reply with a huge grin.
His hand slides down my stomach, over my hip. “No, you’re not.”
I sigh, relaxing into his deliciously warm embrace, and the naughty things his expert fingers are already doing to my body. “Misha! It’s the week before Christmas,” I protest weakly through a moan.
“And?” he mumbles against my shoulder, his big dick poking at my ass.
“So we should get up. Start doing Christmas things.”
He lifts his head, giving me his ice-blue eyes. “What kinda Christmas things?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. Wrap gifts? Decorate?”
He grumbles, “Hmm.”
“Yes!” I laugh, trying to push at his massive chest. God, he’s strong. Hard all over. Warm… Maybe we don’t need to get out of bed right away?…
He grunts, dropping his head back into the crook of my neck, his full lips and expert tongue sending yummy shivers through my body. “We can be festive later.”
“Mikhail…”
“After we fuck.”
My breath catches. He rolls me on my back, settling between my thighs, all big, hot, macho badass… and okay, fine. Christmas can wait.
* * *
An hour later, we’re finally out of bed.
I’m wearing one of Misha’s shirts and a pair of leggings.
He’s in jeans and nothing else, looking like some kinda real-life wet dream.
Sun-kissed skin from his bare-chested outdoor runs, thick, defined muscles, tattoos…
The fabulous view makes my kitty clench like she didn’t just get thoroughly satisfied. Hussy.
When we finally make it downstairs, I ask, “Where are your Christmas decorations?”
He answers without even raising his head from the cup of coffee he’s making me, “Don’t have any.”
“You don’t have any decorations?!”
“Nope.”
“Baby, it’s Christmastime.” He shrugs his boulder-sized shoulders, handing me my mug before returning to the coffee machine to make his own.
“So… we don’t have a tree. Or lights. Or…
anything?” He just shrugs again. Gah, this man!
I stare at him. “You’re telling me you’ve lived in this giant, beautiful house for years and you’ve never decorated for Christmas? ”
“Yep.” He takes a sip of his drink, completely unbothered.
“Why?”
Another blank look. “Just me, no reason to. Do Christmas at my sister’s or folks’.”
“Well,” I reply, clapping my hands. “That’s changing today.” Misha raises an eyebrow. To which I nod resolutely. “We’re getting decorations, a tree, the whole thing. Building our tradition.”
“Babe…”
“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Mikhail Maksimov. It’s Christmas. Our first Christmas together. And you said this is my home now.” I give him my best impression of Sofia’s puppy-dog-eyes.
He stares at me for a second. Then sighs, shaking his head, his lips twitching. I grin hugely, fist pumping the air.
* * *
Two hours later, we’re at the mall, in a Christmas store that looks like Santa and his elves threw up all over it. Mikhail looks like he’s two seconds away from glaring the overly cheerful store owner to death. And I’m having the time of my life.
“What about this one?” I hold up a glittery snowflake ornament.
He grunts.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I singsong and toss it in our cart.
His eyebrows raise when he watches it land on an already high pile of a variety of jolly items. “Do we really need this much shit?”
“Yes, darling.” I poke his side, still smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Maya…”
“Shh. Let me have this.”
Misha shakes his head, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.
By the time we leave, the trunk of the car is packed. We’ve got lights, ornaments, wreaths, stockings, and a massive tree strapped to the roof from our stop at a Christmas tree lot.
“And I’m the insane one,” Mikhail mutters as we drive home.
I just giggle, squeezing his hand that’s resting on my thigh. He faces me for a second. And the way he’s looking at me… all soft and warm, like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him… It makes my insides melt.
I raise our joined hands and kiss the back of his, whispering softly, “I love you.”
“Love you too, Milaya.”
* * *
Decorating takes all afternoon.
Of course, Mikhail carries the tree inside like it weighs nothing. He sets it up in the living room by the massive windows. I play Christmas music he pretends to hate. We string lights, hang ornaments. And by the time we’re done, the house looks magical… home.
We’re standing in the middle of the spacious living room, surrounded by twinkling lights, our stockings hanging on the mantel, facing the huge, beautifully decorated tree. With Mikhail’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, mine hugging his waist, and my head on his chest.
“Not bad,” he rumbles.
“Not bad?” I scoff, then playfully punch his rock-hard stomach. “It’s perfect!”
Misha chuckles, pulling me back into his embrace to kiss my forehead, then he softly says, “Yeah, baby. It is.”
* * *
One week later, we’re cuddled up on the couch, recovering from another sex marathon when Katya calls to wish us a merry Christmas.
When she says Sofia wants to show us her presents, the call switches to video.
Her adorable face fills the screen. She’s grinning so wide I can see the gap where she lost another tooth.
“Hey, sweet girl! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Maya! Look what Santa brought me!”
She holds up a doll, then a book, then turns the camera to what looks like an entire toy store’s inventory.
I laugh. “Wow! Santa was really good to you, baby.”
“The best!” She pauses. “Is Uncle Misha there?”
“Yes, right here, sweetie.” I turn the phone to Mikhail.
He smiles warmly, rumbling, “Hey, princess.”
“Uncle Misha! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Did Santa bring you any presents?”
His eyes flick to me as he pulls me closer. “Yeah, he did.”
Sofia giggles. Then her eyes go wide. “MAYA! YOU HAVE A NEW RING?!”
Oh shit.
“Um…”
“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?!”
Mikhail replies with a chuckle, “Yeah, princess. We are.”
“OH MY GOSH!” She’s bouncing all over, making the video shake. “MOMMY! DADDY! They’re getting married!”
Katya’s face appears on screen, smiling huge. “I heard you, baby. Congratulations, you two!”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling my face heat.
They both look so happy for us. I am happy. Misha is holding me so tight it feels like he’ll never let go. He loves me. His family loves me. Everything’s freaking perfect. Ugh, I’m gonna cry. Again.
David pops up behind his wife and daughter, grinning. “Congratulations, man.” As usual, Mikhail glares at him, and David laughs.
Sofia’s still bouncing in the background. “Can I be the flower girl? Please, please, please?”
I can already picture her in an adorable dress. “Of course, sweetie.”
She jumps even higher. “YAY!”
We talk for a few more minutes before hanging up. We barely get a chance to exchange sweet smiles and amused looks when, this time, it’s my phone that rings. Ana. Uh-oh.
“Hey, A…”
“BITCH, YOU’RE ENGAGED?!”
I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear, laughing. “Hi, Ana.”
“Don’t ‘hi, Ana’ me! Dmitry just told me! Why didn’t you call me?!”
The phone tree works really fast in the Maksimov family…
“It just happened, babe.”
“I don’t care! Oh my God, I’m so happy for you! We need to get together the second I’m back. I want to hear EVERYTHING.”
I laugh again. “Thanks, hon’. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, sis.”
I barely hang up that my phone rings again.
What is it today?! Oh, right: Christmas…
This time it’s my mom. Oh, God!
I answer and switch to video. I mean, if we’re gonna do this…
Mama’s face fills the screen, with Daddy right behind her. “Merry Christmas, baby!” she says.
“Merry Christmas, Mama. Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“So,” my mom says slowly. “You said you had news?”
Right, with how crazy things have been here, and how busy she gets during the holidays, we’ve been missing each other’s calls. Only catching up through texts and voicemails. I take a breath and raise my hand, showing them my ring finger.
Mom gasps. “Is that…”
“I’m engaged.” I smile shyly.
“ENGAGED?!” She practically shrieks. “To who? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?”
“It happened really fast, Mama.”
“How fast?”
“Like… within a week of actually meeting him.”
Dad’s frowning. “And who is this man?”
I glance at Mikhail. He’s watching me, calm and steady. I take his hand, pulling him fully into frame.
“Mommy, Daddy, this is Mikhail, my fiancé.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then my mom says, “Um… hi, Mikhail.”
I bite back a laugh at her bug-eyed expression at the sight of my scary giant.
Dad chimes in. “What do you do, son?”
“Business,” Mikhail replies, which almost makes me burst with laughter.
“What kind of business?”
“Import. Export.”
Not technically a lie.
“How did you two meet?” my mom wants to know.
“He’s Ana’s husband’s cousin. He lives next door to them. So we were neighbors.”
“And now you’re engaged.” She’s smiling huge. Moms.
“You love him?” My father asks.
“Yeah, Daddy. I do.” Mikhail’s hand tightens on mine.
My dad looks at Mikhail, then back at me, his expression softening.
“Well,” he finally says. “As long as you’re happy, baby.”
“I am, Daddy.”
He clears his throat. “We need to meet properly, son. Soon, I hope.”
Mikhail nods. “Yes, sir.”
We talk for a few more minutes. My mom keeps wiping at the corners of her eyes.
My dad’s beaming. They extort a promise to drive up to Oakland for New Year’s.
And the second the call ends, I let out a long exhale.
“That went so much better than I expected.” Mikhail kisses my temple.
I relax into his embrace, my head on his chest, our legs tangled under a cashmere throw, looking into each other’s eyes, on our huge sectional, in our beautiful home. “They’re gonna love you.”
He grins, pulling me on top of him. His hand cups my face, then he’s kissing me. Soft. Slow. Like we have all the time in the world. Because we do. A lifetime.