15. Maxim
MAXIM
Wait, where the hell?
Did I…?
Oh, yeah, I did…
Once my confusion passes and I fully wake up with a stiff neck, the distinct realization that blanket forts are not designed for men of my size moves very much to the forefront of my thoughts.
The fairy lights are still glowing softly overhead, casting a gentle haze across the pile of pillows and squishies.
Milo is curled against my chest like he belongs there, his breathing slow and even, one hand fisted in my shirt.
Zoop is wedged between us, his worn little face pressed against my sternum.
The whole scene is so absurdly domestic that I almost smile despite the damn crick in my neck.
Carefully, I shift my shoulders, trying to work out the knot without waking the boy.
Sleeping in a Little’s den is apparently not super comfortable for a Pakhan in his forties, but I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.
The way he’d asked so sweetly to stay in here, the trust in his eyes when I agreed to be the big spoon…
it did dangerous things to the walls I’ve spent years building.
Milo stirs, blinking up at me sleepily. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice husky with sleep. “You stayed.”
“I did.” I brush a strand of hair from his face. “Though my neck might disagree with that decision.”
Milo giggles softly and presses a kiss to my jaw. The simple affection hits me harder than it should. I help him out of the den, both of us stretching and groaning like we’ve aged ten years overnight.
We move to the kitchen together, the morning light streaming through the big windows. I make coffee while he pours cereal and cuts fresh fruit.
It feels… normal.
Peaceful.
The kind of morning I never thought I’d have.
We eat at the counter, shoulders brushing. Milo chatters about the new board games and how he wants to try the watercolor set later.
Everything seems good. Milo is relaxed, smiling, stealing bites of my toast when he thinks I’m not looking. I watch him over the rim of my coffee cup and feel that unfamiliar warmth settle in my chest again.
But as I take another sip, my mind flashes back to yesterday in the park.
That kiss.
The way the world had narrowed to just his mouth on mine, his body pressed close… and then the sharp, instinctive warning that had sliced through the moment.
Could it really have been that someone was watching us? And not the usual low-level surveillance I’m accustomed to, the kind that comes with being who I am.
This felt different. Ominous. Targeted.
I’m used to feeling paranoid. It’s part of the life. Every shadow, every stranger on the street, every unfamiliar car could be a threat. I’ve survived this long because I listen to that instinct. But yesterday’s feeling lingers like a bad taste.
The cartel?
A Lentini dissenter unhappy with the truce?
Or something else entirely?
The reality is that I cannot rule anything out. I have to be open to a threat from any angle. And the worst thing about it is that I could have multiple factions plotting against me all at once.
Fuck. I didn’t need to go down this rabbit hole so early…
Milo notices too. Of course he does. He’s far too perceptive for his own good.
“Everything okay?” he asks, tilting his head. His spoon hovers over his cereal bowl.
I set my coffee down and force a small smile. “It’s fine. Just thinking about the day ahead.”
Milo studies me for a second longer, but doesn’t push. Good boy. He’s learning.
We finish breakfast in comfortable silence. I clear the dishes while he watches me from his stool, legs swinging. When I’m done, I take his hand and lead him down the hallway toward my master bedroom. Milo follows without question, though I can feel his curiosity growing.
The ensuite is massive: black marble, a rainfall shower big enough for four people, and glass walls that fog beautifully. I turn the water on hot and start unbuttoning my shirt.
Milo’s eyes darken as he watches me undress…
“Join me,” I say.
He strips out of his pajamas without hesitation. The sight of his naked body in the morning light—soft but strong, that trusting look in his eyes—stirs something deep and possessive in me. I pull him under the spray and drop to my knees.
Milo gasps as I spread his ass and bury my face between his delectable cheeks. I lick into him slowly at first, savoring the taste of his puckered ass hole, then work with more purpose nd reach around to his cock too.
My tongue circles his hole, flicks and teases.
“Daddy!” Milo moans loudly, his hips pushing back and his supple cheeks rocking against my face. I work him relentlessly until he’s trembling, thighs stiffening and shaking, crying out my name as he climaxes hard from a combination of my tongue in his ass and my hand on his cock.
I rise, water streaming down my body, and kiss Milos deeply so he can taste himself on my tongue. He melts against me, breathless and pliant.
“I want to pleasure you now,” Milo says, his eyes starry.
“Not now, later,” I reply, my hard cock slapping from side to side as I step to grab my towel. “Now get that butt out of the shower.”
After we dry off, I wrap the boy in a thick towel and pull him close.
“You’re coming with me to my restaurant meeting with Paolo later,” I tell him. “I want you there.”
Milo’s eyes widen in surprise, but he nods. I file away the small spark of pride I feel at his trust.
In my head, I’ve already made another decision…
Later today, I’ll give his phone back. Under supervision at first, of course. But it’s time. He’s earned a measure of freedom.
For now, though, I simply hold Milo, letting the steam from the shower curl around us. The ominous feeling from the park is still there, lingering at the edges of my mind like a shadow. But with Milo warm and safe in my arms, I push it down.
I will keep him safe.
And I will take this family from strength to strength too.
The black SUV idles outside the upscale Italian restaurant, engine humming low and steady. I sit in the back with Milo on one side and Kobek on the other, scanning the street through the tinted windows.
Something is off.
I can feel it in my bones… that old, familiar prickle at the back of my neck that has kept me alive more times than I can count.
The restaurant looks normal enough from the outside: crisp white tablecloths visible through the windows, waiters moving with practiced elegance, the faint clink of silverware.
But my instincts are screaming.
“Keep the engine running,” I tell the driver quietly.
Kobek shifts beside me, checking his phone. “One of Paolo’s men just messaged. Paolo is inside. He doesn’t appreciate waiting.”
I nod once, my jaw tight.
Milo is watching me closely, his hand resting on my thigh. He looks worried, his brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line.
For one dark, poisonous second, doubt slithers through my mind. Could this be a setup? Could he have known? Could the sweet, playful boy who built blanket forts and asked for bedtime stories be playing me for his uncle all along?
I push the thought aside almost immediately. No. Not him. Not after last night. Not after the way he melted in my arms.
But try as I might, the seed is planted, and it festers.
“You stay in the SUV until I say otherwise,” I tell him, voice firm. “Understood?”
Disappointment flashes across his face, but he nods. “Okay.”
I lean in and kiss his forehead, lingering for half a second longer than necessary. Maybe I just want to kiss or, perhaps I’m trying to sense if the boy is indeed in on a plot against me.
“We move,” I say.
Kobek and I step out into the brisk air. Two of my men fall in behind us as we cross the sidewalk and enter the restaurant.
The place is quiet, mostly brunch crowds and people nursing expensive coffees. Soft jazz plays in the background. Paolo and one of his generals are seated at a corner table near the back. The mood is wrong the second we approach.
Paolo’s expression is cold, standoffish. No handshake. No warmth.
We sit.
Paolo doesn’t waste time. “The cartel made me a strong offer,” he says flatly. “I gain control of the city. All of it. But I deal only with them. They’re willing to give me better terms than you ever could. And backup that would protect my family from any family on this coast, or the west.”
A surge of pure anger floods my veins.
So this is it.
Lentini has been using the truce—using me—as leverage the entire time. Playing both sides like the calculating sonofabitch he is.
“I cannot approve of this,” I reply, my voice ice-cold. “You know that.”
Paolo leans back, his eyes like chipped obsidian. “Our truce depends on it. If you cannot give your blessing, then the Lentini family will become targets for the cartel-backed operations. And that includes your little Milo. Blood or not, business is business.”
The threat lands like a slap. For a second, it feels like a single movement could lead to gunfire. My hand twitches toward the gun holstered beneath my jacket. Kobek is coiled like a spring beside me. Paolo’s general watches us carefully, hand near his own weapon.
One wrong word and this brunch turns into a bloodbath.
I stand slowly, buttoning my jacket. “We’re leaving.”
Paolo’s voice follows us. “Accept the new situation, Kovalev. Or there will be consequences for your family, old and new members alike.”
We walk out without another word. The second we’re back in the SUV, I slam the door and snap at the driver, “Apartment. Now.”
Fury burns through me like acid. Milo is watching me with wide, concerned eyes from the back seat. I can feel his questions, his worry. But right now, all I can think about is whether he knew…
Whether sweet, innocent Milo has been feeding information to him uncle this whole time?
Whether every moan, every soft “yes, Daddy,” every blanket fort was part of a longer game?
I’m going to find out.
And if he’s been playing me, I will force a confession out of the boy, however necessary.
The drive back is silent and tense. Milo tries to take my hand, but I keep it on my knee. When we reach the apartment, I help him out of the car but my grip on his arm is firmer than usual. We ride the private elevator up in heavy silence.
The second the doors open into the apartment, I turn to Milo.
“Living room. Now.”
He obeys, worry etched across his face. Kobek stays downstairs to coordinate with the men. I close the door behind us, lock it, and finally let the mask slip.
“What the fuck is going on, Milo?” My voice is low, dangerous. “Your uncle just tried to flip on me. Offered me terms that amount to surrender. Did you know about this?”
His eyes widen in genuine shock. “What? No! Maxim, I swear I didn’t!”
I step closer, towering over the boy. “You’re not telling me everything. It’s written all over your face. And you’re going to tell me the truth. All of it. Right now.”
The interrogation has begun.
And I won’t stop until I’m satisfied he’s telling me everything…