Chapter 19 Max
MAX
Mikhail leaned his weight casually against the brick wall, his foot propped at an angle.
I’d been working for him ever since Marco got me out of jail. I’d spent the past year proving myself, showing him he could rely on me.
It was honest work this time. Mikhail was work-driven, and that was exactly what I needed. He had a way of making the most mundane actions seem deliberate and full of purpose.
He was targeting the Clarkes because he thought they wanted Sloane. He’d offered Liam deals I knew he would break, which was exactly what I wanted.
The hatred I had for Liam ran deep. I hated him for his sheer incompetence. He was the one who sent me to jail; the reason I’d been caged like an animal. Every day, behind those bars, I’d stewed with resentment, replaying the events that had led me there like a broken record.
I hated that he couldn’t keep Rosalie, his own flesh and blood, safe. If he had an ounce of sense, of foresight, Rosalie would still be here. She’d be laughing, not confined to a six-foot grave. Everything could’ve been different, if only he’d been worthy of the title of father.
Because of him, the only way I could hear her laugh again was if I took opium. With the frequency I wanted to hear her laugh, I’d need the marina to get more of it.
Funny how that works, isn’t it?
But I couldn’t get the marina on my own.
Which was why working with Mikhail was the best choice I could make.
It also gave me a distraction from the grief.
I couldn’t live in a world where Rosalie didn’t exist. I saw nothing but agony.
I’d become a person who was able to survive without consciousness. I’d never felt more alone in my life.
That was why I liked working for Mikhail. I’d found a friend in him. He was mostly a brick wall, lacking any human emotion, but he seemed to balance me out, keep me in check.
I’d lied to Giovanni, the capo, about working with Mikhail for the past year. When he found out, he knew we couldn’t back out, because I’d taken it too far. Same with the Clarkes.
My bad. The things we do for love.
Much as Giovanni didn’t like Mikhail, we needed his help. It was easier to take care of the Clarkes instead of making another deal with them.
“He wants me to put an end to this Clarke shit,” I told him, flicking the ash off the cigarette. Smoking was a habit I couldn’t break.
“Just tell me when,” Mikhail muttered, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. He was happy to join me.
It was always the same with Mikhail—he was at the center of most problems, constantly acting without thinking about the consequences. His impulsive nature was both his strength and his weakness.
As we stood there, a shorter woman with light blonde hair stepped outside, turning her attention to me and Mikhail. That was Sloane—Mikhail’s conscience, and the one person who could possibly keep him in check. God knew he needed her.
“Please stop putting yourselves at war,” she said.
I liked her. I thought she was good for Mikhail. I also thought she was too much for him. She stood with her arms crossed, glaring at both of us as if we were in the wrong for wanting to protect her.
Mikhail and Sloane started to argue, then she started to argue with me.
Sloane rolled her eyes when Mikhail grabbed onto her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He turned toward me, putting his chin on top of her head while he held her.
They looked like heaven and hell together.
“Rose!” Sloane shrieked, the name cutting through me like a sharp knife.
I turned to her quickly. “What the fuck did you just say?” The question tumbled out in a panicked rush, my heart pounding against my rib cage as if trying to break free.
Rose. The name sent my mind into a chaotic whirlwind. Hearing someone else say it made my chest ache more than it did before.
Sloane looked offended by my tone. “That’s my friend. I’ll be right back,” she muttered, her voice fading into the background as I fixed my attention on another sound.
It was a familiar voice calling out to Sloane.
I felt my chest tighten.
That sounded a lot like my Rosalie.
I focused my gaze on the woman. She looked a lot like my Rosalie too.
Was there an entirely different person approaching me and I was just seeing what I wanted to see? This was exactly why I’d stopped taking opium. The hallucinations had gotten too intense, and I’d believed she was still here to an extent, yet never completely.
But this time it was different. It felt real.
She locked eyes with me, and it was terror that took over, not love. She’d never looked at me like that before.
I grabbed onto Sloane’s waist quickly and brought her closer to the door, away from the ghost that haunted me. It was strange that Sloane could see her, but I knew if I entertained the delusions, I’d end up a madman.
“Do you know her?”
“Do I know who?” I asked.
“That girl,” she responded.
Letting her go, I brushed past her and walked back over to Mikhail. “I don’t see anyone,” I mumbled, shrugging her off. Ignoring Sloane’s persistence, I stubbed out my cigarette and headed back inside the restaurant.
As I turned a corner, I spotted my sister, Nina, cradling a bundle in her arms. When I stepped closer, I saw it was Mira, my niece.
“Hey, Uncle Maxie,” Nina whispered in a soft voice, adjusting Mira’s tiny hand.
“Nina,” I warned half-heartedly.
“Max,” she corrected, laughing lightly.
As Nina lifted Mira into my arms, a genuine smile spread across my face. Her small fingers wrapped around mine, and a flutter tugged at my heart. I watched her the entire time my family caught up with one another.
Nina’s attention drifted behind me, and that was when I saw Sloane and Mikhail walking in. A pang of envy, sharp and unexpected, pierced me.
They settled at a table. Sloane whispered something in Mikhail’s ear that made his lips curve into a smile. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. Not a smirk or a grin but a genuinely warm expression.
For some reason, seeing him happy with her made the knot in my stomach twist even tighter.
Everyone here seemed to have someone by their side, even the men who didn’t necessarily deserve it.
Giovanni had Nina and a daughter to nurture.
Mikhail, who was far over the line of redeeming himself, had Sloane.
And me? I had nothing.
The light weight of Mira in my arms grounded me. Nina’s hand fell to my shoulder, where her grip tightened slightly. Stealing a glance back at her, I saw a flicker of concern cross her face.
She mouthed, “Are you okay?”
Shame washed over me. Here I was, holding their daughter, and all I could think about was what I’d lost. I forced a smile, the action feeling stiff and likely unconvincing.
“Yeah,” I rasped. Lying had become a habit of mine. “Always am.”
The room fell silent as Marco strode toward our table, his anger obvious.
It had been a while since I last saw him.
He’d been my lawyer, my lifeline, for the past year while I was rotting in jail.
He’d fought for me, sat through every damn court hearing, facing off against prosecutors who wanted to bury me.
He was the only one on my side, pushing through legal battles day after day, making sure I had a shot at getting out.
“Marco,” I greeted.
Giovanni’s eyes narrowed in Marco’s direction, and Marco returned the look without hesitation. He pulled up a chair beside me, his intentions clear.
Marco rambled on, clearly agitated about some money missing from his account.
His voice grew louder as he recounted the details, his frustration boiling over.
I handed Mira back to Nina when Marco made all of us look to see if any money had been taken out of our accounts.
Everyone but me and Marco had their money.
Pissed and making a scene in front of my family, Marco’s anger was directed at me. It didn’t take them long to realize this was more of a personal matter, and quickly, they said their goodbyes.
“I need that money,” Marco demanded.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes never leaving his. I cleared my throat, breaking the silence, and reached into my pocket for a cigarette. The click of my lighter seemed loud in the room. I took my time lighting the end of the cigarette before finally speaking up.
“You think I took your money, Marco?” I asked, my voice low and measured.
His jaw tightened. “I don’t care who took it,” he said, taking a deliberate pause. “I want it back.”
I inhaled a drag. “Money goes missing. It’s the nature of our business.” I exhaled slowly. “You should know that by now. You’ll have it back soon. Giovanni has someone to figure this out. Give it a day.”
“It’s the Americans.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Marco’s eyes flashed with uncertainty for a moment, but the hard line of his mouth didn’t soften. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and patience wasn’t one of his virtues. We had that in common.
The silence stretched on, and as if on cue, Marco leaned back, with a slight smirk curling the edges of his lips. I’d seen it a thousand times over the past year.
“Funny, isn’t it,” he said, meeting my gaze, “how we always end up back here, you and me? Two sides of the same coin.”
He wasn’t wrong. The past year, he’d been more than just my lawyer—he’d been my one constant, dragging me through courtroom after courtroom, facing down the Feds and the endless mess with the Clarkes and their connections.
He’d been there, fighting for me, when I thought I was done.
Every time I was ready to give up, he was the one still pushing.
“Yeah, well, the coin’s been flipped too many times. Bound to land on its edge eventually.”
Marco’s smirk widened. “Odds aren’t likely. We’ll be in hell by the time the coin lands.”
“No. I’m a saint,” I retorted, the irony clear in my voice.
“Is that why you’re taking opium then?” he asked, his tone both accusing and curious.