Chapter 40
MAX
The next day, all I could think about was Rosalie.
Her cherry scent lingered in the air around me everywhere I went. And her touch—god, her touch—was seared into my skin like a brand.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw her face, her eyes locking onto mine with a vulnerability that did nothing but make my dick hard.
Keeping my hands away from her felt impossible.
I was a twig nearing its snap; a man on the edge of a cliff, teetering between restraint and surrender. The line between self-control and giving in to my desires was becoming increasingly blurred.
I lit a cigarette and took a drag, feeling the smoke filling my lungs. The nicotine did little to calm my racing heart or quiet the storm inside my head. Rosalie would be upset with me for smoking, but what more could I do to piss her off? Plus, it wasn’t necessarily a rule I couldn’t break.
Truth was, the cigarette was nothing but a futile attempt to clear my thoughts. A temporary distraction from the complication, and nothing more. She was a complication—a beautiful, maddening complication I couldn’t ignore.
“Sorry, Sloane wouldn’t let me leave,” Mikhail said as he met me on the dock.
I turned to face him, my brow furrowed and my lips curved in clear annoyance. “Fuck every man who’s getting laid right now,” I muttered under my breath, the frustration clear in my voice.
Mikhail raised a brow, a smirk playing on his lips as he reached me. “Trouble in paradise, Max?” he teased.
I shook my head, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under my shoe with a twist. “I’m on my best behavior,” I replied.
Mikhail chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your best behavior, huh? Didn’t know you had that in you.”
“I don’t,” I admitted. Restraint was a foreign concept to me, especially when it came to Rosalie. “But I’m trying.”
“Just have your way with her,” he said as if it were the simplest solution in the world.
“I need her to get there on her own. If she doesn’t sign the marriage certificate, Giovanni will have to deal with me. And I don’t know about you, but I quite like my life and wouldn’t mind keeping it.”
“That’s your plan—hope she falls for you?”
I shook my head. “Pray, Mikhail. Pray she falls for me. Hope will get me nowhere.”
“Pray, is it?” He let out a low chuckle—the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “You think the Almighty’s got time for your troubles?”
“You’d be surprised what a desperate man believes. When all you’ve got left is faith, you cling to it like a drowning man to driftwood.”
His eyes narrowed, his hand asking for a cigarette. I handed him the pack along with the lighter. He took one, lit it, and inhaled a deep drag, the ember glowing in the dark.
“She’s got you all twisted up, hasn’t she?”
“More than I’d like to admit,” I confessed.
My steps echoed on the wooden planks of the dock. Mikhail followed, and as we neared the ship, a few more men emerged from the side building.
“Boss,” Matteo called.
“Matteo.” I greeted him with a nod. “Everything in place?”
“Secured and ready.”
“Good,” I said, turning to another man approaching him from behind. It was Monique, our logistics expert, who wore her dark hair in a tight ponytail. She’d come to us from the East, where she’d handled smuggling operations for one of the big families before things went south.
“Monique,” I acknowledged. “Shipments?”
“Still weighing everything. The last shipment was missing half a ton. We’ll see if this one is any different soon.”
I was tired of people stealing from me.
Marco and I got lucky since Giovanni’s men had figured out our first money situation and found the ones who’d cleared our checking accounts.
The two dipshits were connected to the Americans.
I was sure Mason was involved. I knew they were still stealing from me, but they were getting creative now, less obvious.
They were bribing my men, turning them against me.
I couldn’t afford it, and unfortunately, loyalty could not be bought.
“Mikhail and I will deal with the rat before it becomes more of a problem. We need to get this unloaded and stored before dawn,” I demanded.
Mikhail moved to join Matteo, while Monique and I approached the gangway of the ship.
“Start unloading,” I ordered. “We’ll take the crates to the warehouse. Matteo, I want you and your men to handle the transport. Quietly, and with no mistakes.”
Matteo nodded, signaling to his team. They began to move quickly, lifting the heavy crates and carrying them up to the deck. Outside, the trucks waited, engines idling softly in the dark.
For the next two and a half hours, we sorted through everything.
I was watching the last of the crates, making sure they were carefully loaded onto the trucks, when my phone rang. I picked it up, startled by the loud music crashing through the speaker.
“You might want to get here.”
“Can you handle whatever it is, Sean? I have a rat to deal with,” I replied, annoyance creeping into my tone.
“I would, but Rosalie and Sloane are both here, and things are getting out of hand.”
“Here? Where the hell are you?” I demanded, my irritation growing.
“Valentina threw Rosalie a bachelorette party in the city.”
Valentina always acted impulsively, constantly making my life harder than it needed to be.
“What’s the situation?”
“Some of the girls are pretty wasted, and there’s been a bit of a scuffle with a few men on the floor. They crashed into Rosalie. Nothing serious yet, but it’s drawing attention. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath before hanging up and directing my attention to Monique.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. Coordinate with the drivers. I want those crates stored and hidden before dawn. I don’t need the Feds on my ass.
Once this is done, we regroup at Diego’s.
” Then, with an exhausted sigh, I turned to Mikhail, who was already deep in conversation with Matteo and Nikolai.
“Mikhail,” I called out, my voice cutting through theirs.
He gave me a questioning look.
“A word?”
Mikhail nodded and followed me to the car.
While we walked, I filled him in on the situation.
He seemed to share my irritation—or was that anger I felt?
It seemed like a mix of both. I was irritated with Rosalie for doing something I’d specifically told her not to do, and I was angry with Valentina for . . . well, being Valentina.
The club was a twenty-minute drive away, and every passing second tested my patience, just like my foot tested the gas pedal.
My mind raced. I didn’t have the time to handle this—not with the stakes as high as they were.
Valentina’s decision to throw Rosalie a bachelorette party in the heart of the city was reckless and something I didn’t have time for.
Once we’d finally arrived at the club, the bouncer stepped aside without a word. Inside, lights flashed everywhere, and the music pounded in my ears. I scanned the room quickly, spotting Sean near the bar trying to keep an eye on the girls. When he saw us, relief took over his look of worry.
“Max! Mikhail!” Even calling for us, his voice was barely audible above the music. “They’re upstairs,” he said, jerking his thumb toward a private section overlooking the main floor.
We pushed our way through, finally reaching a set of roped-off stairs. I spotted Rosalie almost immediately. She was walking down the long bar counter with a glass in her hand, while Sloane was busy trying to mediate an argument between two drunken men.
As the room started to notice our presence, conversations tapered off, and Rosalie glanced up at the door where I stood.
Her perfectly arched eyebrow rose in silent disapproval.
She lifted her cup: a martini, her drink of choice.
Classy and bitter, much like her. She didn’t look happy to see me. Then again, she never really did.
For the first time in a while, I wasn’t happy to see her either. The damn woman couldn’t follow basic instructions. It was infuriating, really, how someone so sharp could be so deliberately obtuse.
I didn’t have anything to say to her. What could I say that hadn’t already been said a hundred times over?
Behind me, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor crept closer. Valentina sidled up next to me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, turning to face her, my tone sharp with rising anger.
“Celebrating,” she replied defiantly, lifting her chin. “It’s Rosalie’s big night. She deserves to have fun.”
I took in a deep breath, struggling to contain the frustration boiling within me. “You know how delicate things are right now,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “This isn’t the time for your damn games.”
“It’s just a party. We’re all fine,” she countered with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if that brushed off the gravity of the situation.
I chose not to reply. Arguing with her would get me nowhere. “Sean, help me get Valentina to the car,” I instructed.
“Okay,” she said, holding her hands up dismissively. “I’m going. You don’t have to manhandle me.” She paused to throw back another shot.
“Sobriety, Valentina. I think it would look great with that pink coat of yours.”
She rolled her eyes and followed after Sean.
I looked back at Mikhail, who was already striding past me, his focus locked on Sloane.
He didn’t have a single other thought besides her.
As he got closer, the two men arguing seemed to sense his approach.
Mikhail stepped between them and Sloane, his eyes cold.
He didn’t have to say a word before they ran off like frightened hyenas.
When he gave Sloane the same look, she didn’t run off.
She wasn’t scared. I think that was why he liked her so much.
“You try that shit again, and I’ll put you back on that boat.”
Sloane’s mouth dropped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Would you like to find out?” he asked
She didn’t respond.
“Get in the car,” Mikhail said. “Now.”