30. Cora
CHAPTER THIRTY
cora
The townhouse was quiet, except for Clyde’s occasional meow as he batted at a crumpled piece of paper near the coffee table. The little kitten was relentless, pouncing and rolling with the intensity of a lion on the savanna. I watched him from the couch, my laptop propped open but forgotten as I nibbled on the edge of my thumb.
“Clyde’s clearly the apex predator of this household,” I said aloud, glancing at Lev, who stood near the door with his arms crossed.
Lev grunted in response, his eyes scanning the room like there was a threat lurking in every shadow.
“Relax, Lev. The only thing attacking us today is Clyde.” I smiled, pointing at the kitten as he launched himself at the paper ball again.
Lev didn’t look convinced. “I’m here to protect you, not to be entertained by a cat.”
“Oh, come on,” I teased. “What if we watched something? You can’t just stand there all day, looking like a statue. Have you ever seen The Walking Dead ? It’s a classic.”
Lev’s brow furrowed. “Zombies?”
“Zombies,” I confirmed, grinning. “It’s got action, drama, survival—it’s basically a training video for any apocalypse scenario. You’d love it. And … if there’s a plague, you might have to protect me from zombies. It’s important for you to know how to kill them. It’s a survival skill.”
He coughed to cover up a laugh. “I doubt zombies are ever going to happen.”
“You never know,” I said, laughing. “Fine. Be a grump. But if Clyde and I get bitten by zombies while you’re brooding over there, it’s on you. You’ll have to explain to Max why I’m one of the undead.”
He rolled his eyes but said nothing, which I took as a victory.
Around lunchtime, I wandered into the kitchen, Clyde trailing behind me like a tiny shadow. I pulled ingredients from the fridge—romaine, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and some leftover grilled chicken. It wasn’t much, but it would do. The supplies in Maxim’s kitchen were lacking, and we needed to do a serious grocery run. The first thing I needed was Lucky Charms. I almost died this morning without my fix.
Clyde darted around my feet as I chopped the veggies, his wide eyes watching every movement with fascination.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said, tossing a tiny cube of cucumber his way. He sniffed it, then batted it around the floor with disdain. “I know. Not as exciting as the kitten food Kolya got you.”
The thought of Maxim made my stomach twist. He’d been gone all day, and I hadn’t heard a word from him since the morning. My mind wandered to the meeting he’d mentioned—something with Conall and the others. I didn’t ask for details, but the tension in his jaw before he left said enough.
“You’re worrying again,” I muttered to myself, dumping the salad into a bowl.
Natasha: U ok? Heard Max’s club burnt down.
Me: Yeah. Some trouble with some guy I took a picture of in Dublin. He chased me here, I guess. Grabbed me.
Group: Ronnie, Hollis & Natasha
Ronnie: wtf happened? Natty says you were attacked?
Hollis: are u ok?
Me: I’m ok. Max rescued me. I needed some stitches.
Natasha: The same guy burn down the club?
Me: I don’t think so. The guy who grabbed me was from Dublin. Joe O’Gara. I took a picture of him in an alley that he didn’t like. I didn’t tell anyone, though. I was afraid.
I bit my lip, my fingers hovering.
Hollis: Hey. That’s not your responsibility what this Joe guy did. You weren’t doing anything with that picture you took. Fuck that guy.
Ronnie: u alright?
Me: Yeah. I’m good. I’ve got Clyde and Max.
Natasha: Speaking of Max … how’d he take it?
Ronnie: Well, looking at the body on the sidewalk of Declan O’Gara’s home, I’d say that he was upset.
Me: Let me see.
Natasha: Absolutely not.
Ronnie: Let’s just say that it was a clear message.
I googled ‘bodies left on sidewalks’ in NYC, but nothing came up, and decided that it was probably best that I didn’t see it anyway. Not to mention, it didn’t bother me that O’Gara was dead. He had plans to hurt me — now he couldn’t.
The knock on the door startled both me and Clyde, who darted under the table like the coward he was. Lev was at the door in seconds, his hand on his sidearm, speaking into his walkie-talkie like he was on the set of some spy film.
“It’s fine,” I said, peeking around the corner as Lev opened the door to reveal Paddy and Brody.
“Hello, little sis,” Paddy said, grinning as he stepped inside. His wild auburn hair was as untamed as ever, and his freckled face was split with a mischievous smile. Brody followed, quieter but no less imposing.
“Hi,” I said, setting the salad bowl on the counter. “What are you two doing here?”
“Checking on you,” Brody said, his sharp eyes scanning the room in a way that reminded me of Maxim. “And bringing you this.” He held up a box.
“Is that…” I peeked inside and grinned. “Pizza?”
Paddy smirked. “I heard you liked the sausage and olive. Figured you’d appreciate it more than whatever rabbit food you’re making.”
“It was a salad,” I said, feigning offense, but I’d never say no to pizza. I could eat pizza every day of the year and never get tired of it. I had been eating an awfully large amount of it lately, but I’d never complain.
“Rabbit food,” Paddy repeated, stealing a cherry tomato from the counter.
Lev muttered something in Russian, and Paddy turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that, big guy?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, smiling sweetly. “He’s always grumpy.”
The afternoon dragged on, and the townhouse felt smaller with every passing hour. Even with my brothers here, my mind was elsewhere, the weight of Maxim’s absence pressing down on me.
It was close to five when the front door opened. Clyde bolted from his perch on the couch, skidding across the hardwood to greet Maxim like an overeager dog.
“About time,” Paddy said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Your girl’s been worrying herself sick over you.”
Maxim stepped inside, his expression unreadable, though his eyes softened when they landed on me. “I see you’ve made yourself at home,” he said dryly, nodding at Paddy and Brody.
“Someone had to keep her company,” Brody said.
“And feed her,” Paddy added, gesturing to the pizza box.
Maxim smirked. “Good. Saves me the trouble.”
He crossed the room, his hand brushing against my waist as he passed, a subtle but reassuring gesture. “Lev, thanks for staying with her.”
Lev muttered something under his breath, and Maxim raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Lev said, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Uh-huh,” Maxim said, unimpressed.
“Alright, we’re off,” Paddy announced, grabbing his jacket. “You two lovebirds enjoy your night. Try not to keep him up too late, sis. He’s got a business to run.”
“Go away, Paddy,” I said, rolling my eyes as he and Brody headed for the door.
Once they were gone, Maxim turned to me, his hand finding the small of my back. “You okay?”
“Now I am,” I said softly, leaning into him.
Clyde meowed from the floor, demanding attention. Maxim sighed, scooping the kitten up with a resigned look. “Your guard cat needs work,” he said, his voice laced with humor.
I laughed, the sound breaking through the lingering tension. For now, Maxim was home, and that was all that mattered.
I leaned back against the plush sofa in Maxim’s townhouse, the hum of the city muted by the thick glass of the windows. The faint scent of sandalwood and spice filled the air, unmistakably Maxim’s, grounding me in the moment. Maxim loosened his tie and removed his jacket. His dark hair was slightly disheveled—a rare sight for the typically composed pakhan.
“So, you’re back,” I said, sitting up. I pushed my hair behind my ear and pulled my legs up into a crisscross. “Let me guess. Another day of plotting and posturing?”
Maxim smirked, his sharp features softening as he approached. “Something like that. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, I’m starving. What are we eating?”
I grabbed the takeout menu I had been eyeing. “I was thinking Thai. Something spicy to match your charming personality.”
“Clever.” His grin widened. “Order whatever you want. I’ll take my usual.”
“Let me guess, you’re a green curry kind of guy?” I teased, already dialing the restaurant.
“Pad Thai, actually,” he replied, settling into the armchair opposite me. He leaned back, stretching out as if he finally allowed himself to relax. “It’s reliable.”
“Boring,” I quipped, my tone light. I placed the order and set my phone down. “So, tell me. What happened today? You’ve got that look—like you just got away with something.”
Maxim’s eyes gleamed, the faintest trace of amusement flickering behind them. “The Commission meeting went as expected. Ilias still thinks he’s the smartest one in the room, Angelo tried to play peacemaker, and your brother…” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “Conall’s being clever, but he’s hiding something.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s got something going on.” Maxim’s voice was calm, but the edge of calculation was impossible to miss.
“Sounds exhausting,” I said, leaning my chin on my palm. “Why do you even deal with them? I’d just fake my death and move to Bali.”
Maxim chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed almost out of place coming from him. “Tempting, but I’m not quite ready to abandon my empire for a beachside bungalow.”
“You’re missing out,” I said. “Imagine it: no meetings, no power struggles, just endless cocktails and sunsets.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what would you do in Bali, zayka?”
“Photograph every inch of it,” I replied without hesitation. “Then sell the prints and make a fortune.”
Maxim shook his head, his smile softening. “Always a dreamer.”
Before I could retort, the doorbell rang. I stood to get the food, but Maxim waved me off. “Sit. Kolya will bring it.”
A few moments later, he returned with bags of steaming takeout. We laid the containers out on the coffee table, the aroma filling the room.
As we ate, I pressed him for more details about the meeting. Maxim indulged me, recounting snippets of the conversation with each leader and the subtle power plays at work. I could see the faintest flicker of tension in his expression as he spoke about Conall.
“You don’t think he’ll double-cross you or anything?” I asked.
It never would have occurred to me that my brother would be untrustworthy, but it made sense that they were all purveyors of secrets.
“No. I don’t. We have been friends for more than twenty years. I was twelve when I met him. We were barely boys when we first sat down together in that club.” Maxim’s gaze met mine, steady and unyielding.
We fell into a comfortable silence, the clink of chopsticks against containers the only sound. When we finished, Maxim leaned back, his gaze lingering on me.
“They made you sign?”
“Yes. Angelo fought like a wildcat, but the rest of us were beaten down, and we all had things to lose.” He folded his hands together. “My father knew my weak point.”
“Your brother.”
“There was no reason to deny him something like a marriage in the future. I was twelve. A wife? It was so abstract to me at the time. I was busy trying to survive a horror show.”
I reached over to place my hand on his. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”
“I appreciate that, zayka.” He considered me for a moment, refilling his glass. “We all have our dark moments, don’t we?”
“That’s true,” I admitted. I had been chewing on my thumbnail and tried to consciously stop, sticking my hand under my thigh. He had shared so much of his childhood I could give him a little of mine. Right? “I was just a little girl when my father died. I don’t remember very much. Conall was just a teenager himself — seventeen, but he came and woke me up and wrapped me in my blankets.” The memory of it hits me, the smell of blood, the carnage. “Conall had told me to close my eyes, but I peeked.”
“You should have kept them closed.”
I’m surprised to find Maxim sitting beside me, tucking me close, stroking my hair.
“I wasn’t very good at obeying, even then,” I gave him a sleepy smile and leaned over for a kiss.