Chapter 16
Sixteen
Maxim
I stroll through the opulent condo, my freshly polished shoes clicking against the marble floors. The air is thick with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. I know all too well Aria must have a candle lit. She’s crazy about them and lights candles almost every night when she gets home from work.
“Aria?” I call out, my deep voice echoing through the expansive space. I spot her then, a vision in a white blazer with a magenta pink silk top, perched on the barstool in the kitchen. Her tumbling dark curls and alabaster skin are a stark contrast to the crimson of the wine glass in her hand.
“You’re back,” she says simply, her tone guarded. I immediately sense her unease. It could be that she’s just had a very bad day at work, but I need to check in. That’s my duty.
I stride over to her, my gaze sweeping over her delicate frame.
“Yeah, just got in. I went around the city and met with some of the lower families, made sure they know I’m here to stay.
One of them owns a shoe store that offers polishing services, fixing soles, and a variety of other repair services. ”
Aria sets down her glass, her fingers trembling slightly. “And what did they think of the great Maxim Volkov gracing their presence?”
I chuckle, the sound dark and rich. “I think they were taken aback I’d be staying in Chicago,” I reach out, my calloused fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “They didn’t seem too pleased to know one of the big dogs is here full-time.”
Her eyes flare with a spark of defiance, but she says nothing.
The tension in the air is palpable, charged with unspoken emotions I can’t quite understand.
I can practically taste her aggravation, her annoyance.
But there is also a hint of something else—something that tells me I’m going to have to dig to find out.
I let my hand drift down the graceful curve of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch. “What’s troubling you, Aria?” I ask, my voice laced with a dangerous edge. “I can tell something’s on your mind. You’re quiet. Distracted.”
She averts her gaze, her fingers tightening around the wine glass. “My father...” She pauses, her lips trembling. “He had words with me today.”
I stiffen, my jaw clenching. “About what?”
“The assassination attempt. I wanted an update on the matter, considering it’s been a couple of weeks since I spoke to him or Dmitri.
” Aria raises her eyes to meet mine, her expression a mixture of fear and resentment.
“He told me it’s not my place to worry about such matters.
That I should learn to stay in line. He made it very clear why I shouldn’t continue to ask questions,” she points to the other side of her cheek, where her skin is split.
A low, rumbling growl escapes my throat. The thought of anyone daring to put their hands on what is mine fills me with a primal rage. “What the fuck happened?”
Aria flinches, but holds my gaze. “He backhanded me and his ring cut my skin,” Her voice trails off, but the haunted look in her eyes tells me all I need to know. “I didn’t expect him to do it, honestly.”
I feel the world narrow to a singular focus, the roar of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. No one, not even her own father, has the right to lay a finger on her. God, what a fool. He doesn’t know how badly I’m going to make him pay.
“I’ll deal with him,” I growl, my free hand clenching into a fist. “I won't allow anyone to harm you, Aria. You are my wife, in turn my property, my woman.”
I know she doesn’t want me referring to her as property, but it’s just the reality of our world.
In the Bratva, the women are our property.
It’s an old way, but I doubt it will change until Aria and I have children.
I can’t make such drastic changes within the Bratva until a good portion of the older heads die off, including my own father.
I pull Aria into my arms, feeling her tremble against me. My hand smooths down her back in a soothing gesture, even as the fury courses through my veins.
“Shh, lyubov moya ,” I murmur, my lips brushing her temple. “This will be the only time your father ever lays a hand on you.”
Aria’s fingers grip the front of my shirt, her voice barely above a whisper as she roughly laughs. “It isn’t the only time. He’s done it before when I’ve stepped out of line, on my sixteenth birthday nonetheless, and when I found out I was being married to you.”
I tilt her chin up, capturing her gaze with mine. “What the fuck?”
She shakes her head and closes her eyes, “I wouldn’t say he’s abusive.
I think he reacts badly when his wife has a problem with something.
When I was sixteen, she told me I needed to change into something nicer because she wasn’t poor, and neither was he.
She told me I looked low class, and I quipped back at her with an insulting remark. ”
I arch a brow, “What was the remark?”
Aria smirks lightly, “That she didn’t look low class, she was low class.”
I chuckle to myself. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”
Aria nods in agreement, “Which is why today happened the way it did. She overheard me mid-argument with my father and called him weak for allowing me to fight with him. She said I deserved to be slapped, and then it happened. What are you going to do to him, Maxim?”
My blood runs hotter than it has been. Why doesn’t her step-mother know her fucking place?
She has no business to be ordering around a man within the Bratva.
“I’m going to do whatever is necessary to ensure he never touches you again.
And, your stepmother will be put in her place as well,” My thumb caresses her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin. “You have my word, Aria.”
With one last squeeze, I reluctantly release her and stride toward the door, my mind already racing with plans to deal with her father and stepmother. This will not go unpunished. No one lays a hand on my wife and lives to tell the tale.
As I reach for the doorknob, Aria calls out, laced with a touch of fear. “Maxim, please don’t kill him, and be careful.”
I flash her a wolfish grin, the promise of retribution glinting in my eyes. “I’m always careful, Aria.”
I don’t bother responding to the latter because I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get to her father’s home.
It’s not long before I’m out the door, my steps quickening with each passing moment. Her father will learn a harsh lesson tonight, and while I’m not one to put my hands on a woman, I’ll make sure he pays for his wife’s part in it too.
I don’t even give Andrei enough time to get in the car with me.
I just left him behind and told him to watch Aria, that I’d be okay.
I make the short drive to Aria’s father’s home, my knuckles whitening around the steering wheel as rage simmers under the surface.
No one lays a hand on my wife and gets away with it.
Pulling up to the large, imposing house, I take a moment to reign in my temper. I need a clear head for what’s to come, but I know that likely won’t be possible. I tend to allow my feelings to take over me when it comes to those I care about.
Straightening my suit jacket, I drive up to their gate and wait for someone to greet me over the intercom. “Name?” a man’s gruff voice comes through.
“Maxim Volkolv,” I grit, not appreciating the rudeness coming from this man.
I’m buzzed through almost immediately and drive past the gate, and the second I park my car I waste no time. I stride up the front steps and pound on the door, the sound echoing through the eerily silent property.
After a long moment, the door creaks open to reveal one of the men who work for Aria’s father. “Mr. Volkolv, we weren’t expecting you.”
I push past the man and walk into the foyer of the Zuyev home, scanning the premises until Aria’s father is in my view. His brow is furrowed in confusion. “Maxim? What are you?—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish, my fist connecting with his face in a powerful blow that sends him reeling backwards. He staggers, clutching his bloodied nose, eyes wide with shock.
“That’s for laying a hand on your daughter,” I snarl, stalking deeper into the foyer, my imposing presence filling the space. “You forget your place, old man.”
He glares at me, defiance flaring in his gaze even as he presses a handkerchief to his nose. “She is my daughter, which means I can do as I damn well please. You can’t?—”
I cut him off with a sharp gesture, my voice low and dangerous. “No, you can’t. Aria is my wife, which means she’s under my protection. You wouldn’t have enough balls to slap me or my father, would you?”
His eyes go wide. “No, I’d never do such a thing.”
I snort, “Exactly, and she is my wife. She is an extension of the Volkolv line and you’ve slapped one of us. You will never touch her again, do you understand?”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I’m faster than he is, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him against the wall, my face mere inches from his. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will end you. Are we clear?”
Aria’s father swallows hard, the fight draining from his eyes as he realizes the gravity of the situation. “C-crystal.”
Satisfied, I release him, smoothing down my suit jacket. “I’m glad, but you understand that isn’t enough.”
His eyes go wide and he clears his throat. “I won’t do it again, Maxim. I understand the error of my ways and I won’t allow my temper to get the best of me.”
“Your temper,” I snicker, glancing around the foyer to see if his wife has been nosy enough to come out yet. “It’s not just your temper that influences your decisions, Nikolai. Say, where’s Tatiana hiding?”
Nikolai inhales deeply through his nose, “This doesn’t need to concern her.”
I laugh because that’s hysterical. “Doesn’t it? Almost everything concerns your cunt of a wife,” I speak louder than ever, “Tatiana, where are you?”
A few moments later the clacking of heels against the floor grow louder and louder. Her cold eyes meet mine and I smile. “Be a dear and get me a butcher knife from the kitchen.”
Her eyes go wide, “W-what would we need that for?”
Oh, I’m not giving it away just yet. “You’ll see.”
Tatiana’s face turns a pallid shade of white, the color draining from her cheeks as she begins to realize just who she’s dealing with. She casts a sideways glance at her bruised husband, his nose still gushing crimson onto the handkerchief he holds tightly against his face.
“Please, Maxim,” Nikolai pleads, his voice shaky and unsure, “there’s no need for this.”
I turn my gaze back to him, a predator looking upon its prey with unbridled satisfaction. “That’s the thing, there is a need for it because you won’t learn unless I teach you a lesson.”
His eyes flicker with fear before he glances over at his wife.
“Go get me that knife, Tatiana,” I remind her again.
Tatiana comes back in record time and brings me a large, sharp butcher knife. I chuckle and toss the blade back between both of my hands, feeling the slickness of the handle. “So, which one of you will it be?”
Nikolai gulps, “Sorry?”
I suck in a breath and look between the two of them. “Which one of you is going to give me a hand? You struck my wife, but you enticed him. I don’t get it, man, how you could let a woman like that rile you up.”
“Maxim, I am sorry for what I did. It was a horrible decision made in a moment of weakness, but I’m not going to get my hand cut off because of a stupid mistake.”
Cocking both of my brows I remind him who’s in charge. “Unfortunately, you don’t get the option of deciding, Nikolai.”
I don’t waste another moment. I grab him by the collar and throw him down on the ground, pressing his arm down with all of my might. He howls in pain, a sound that echoes through the grand foyer. His wife, Tatiana, stands frozen in place, her hand covering her gasp of horror.
“Just a moment of weakness you said,” I mutter, placing the cold blade against his wrist.
“No Maxim—” he pleads, his voice choked with fear and regret. “Please.”
“Quiet,” I hiss. “You should have thought about that when you raised your hand to my wife.”
His pleas turn into sobs, cries that echo around me and fill the silence. It’s music to my ears.
“Maxim…” Tatiana finally finds her voice again. Her face is pale as a ghost, her eyes wide with terror. “This was my fault, I told him she was being disrespectful!”
She steps toward us, her body trembling. There’s a brave glint in her eyes despite the fear that seizes her. She offers out her hand to me. “Cut mine off instead.”
I grab her by the wrist and bring the blade to her skin, then meet her eyes. “You may mentally hurt my wife, but I’ll have a different punishment for you one day.”
I pull the blade back and slam it down over Nikolai’s wrist. He screams out in pain and it echoes through his vast house, blood oozing and squirting from his wound. I do it again until his hand is completely severed and he’s bleeding on the floor.
His men rush up to him with towels and promises to take him to the hospital, while I toss the knife on the floor and leave with a smug smirk on my face.
The nerve of that man, daring to strike his own daughter, my wife. My clenched fists ache to unleash more violence, to make his wife pay too, but I can do that another time. I’m sure it hurt her enough to see her husband screaming like a little girl.
The drive back to our condo is a blur, my mind consumed by thoughts of Aria’s trembling form, the anguish in her eyes when she recounted what her father did to her. I should have been there, should have shielded her from his childish temper. It’s my one failure as her husband, her protector.
When I finally reach our door, I waste no time striding inside, my gaze immediately seeking out Aria. She’s still in the kitchen, the wine glass now empty beside her. Her eyes lift to meet mine, rimmed with unshed tears, and my heart clenches.
“Maxim,” she breathes, the single word laced with a relief that twists in my gut.
In two long strides, I’m at her side, gathering her into my arms. She goes willingly, molding herself against me as a shuddering sigh escapes her lips. I press a fierce kiss to the crown of her head, one hand cradling the back of her neck.
“I’ve got you, lyubov moya ,” I murmur, the endearment tumbling from my lips without thought. “You’re safe now.”
Her slender fingers grip the lapels of my suit as she nods, her face buried against my chest. I can feel the tension slowly bleeding from her, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
Gently, I guide her toward the living room, lowering us both onto the plush sofa.
Aria curls into my side, seeking the comfort of my embrace, and I tighten my hold, silently vowing to shield her from any further harm.
Her father might have been able to get away with this before, but he won’t ever again.