4. Maksim
MAKSIM
I leave Aria’s suite with the red mark of her hand still burning on my cheek and the word monster echoing in my skull.
Fine. Let her think I’m a monster. Let her hate me. It doesn’t change the facts. Daniel is my son, and he’s staying here where he’ll be safe and fed and cared for.
Where he’ll never have to hoard food in his pockets or wonder where his next meal is coming from.
That’s what matters. Not what Aria thinks of me or the secrets she’s keeping. Or the eight years she stole from us.
My son matters. Only my son.
I go to my office and close myself in, pulling up the security feeds on my computer.
The suite where Aria and Daniel are staying has cameras in the sitting room only, and I watch as Aria sits on the sofa with her face in her hands.
She’s crying. Shoulders shaking, body curled in on itself like she’s trying to disappear.
Good.
No. I shake my head. Not good. I don’t want her crying or broken. I want her to understand what she’s done, and admit she was wrong—
I close the laptop harder than necessary.
This isn’t productive. I need to focus on Daniel, on building a relationship with my son. Aria and her secrets can wait.
The first few days are harder than I expected.
Daniel is scared shitless of me. It’s written in every line of his small body when I enter their suite in the mornings. He immediately moves closer to Aria, and his hand finds hers. Those familiar gray eyes watch me with the wariness of a prey animal.
I’ve seen that look before on men who knew I was about to hurt them. Those people understood exactly what I was capable of and feared it.
I’ve never seen it on a child. I never wanted to see it on my own son.
It makes my stomach feel sour and my heart clench every time.
On the second morning, I bring breakfast again.
Daniel eats more slowly this time, but he still hoards food and slips his contraband into his pockets when he thinks I’m not looking.
Aria watches with guilt written across her face, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Daniel,” I say when he’s finished eating. “Would you like to see the pool?”
He looks at Aria immediately as if seeking permission. Or protection.
“It’s okay,” she tells him softly, even though her hand tightens on his shoulder. “You can go.”
He chews on his bottom lip. “Will you come?” he asks uncertainly.
“Not this time, Danny boy.” She gently tweaks his nose and Daniel briefly smiles. “But I’ll be right here when you get back. I promise.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods.
The pool is on the east side of the house, with an infinity edge overlooking the ocean.
The water is heated, crystal clear, and surrounded by limestone and comfortable loungers.
It’s mid-June, but the air is still cool and my son shivers slightly.
He stands at the edge in the navy blue swim trunks I had bought for him and stares at the water like it might swallow him whole.
“Do you know how to swim?” I ask.
He shakes his head and wraps his arms around himself. My lips tighten. Of course he doesn’t. Swimming lessons cost money. Money Aria didn’t have because she was too stubborn to ask for help.
“I’ll teach you.” I crouch down so I’m at his level. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?”
He looks at me with wary eyes, weighing the risks and debating whether he can trust me.
“Okay,” he finally whispers.
I go in first, the water warm around my waist, and hold out my arms. “Come on. I’ll catch you.”
Daniel sits on the edge, dangling his legs in the water. He’s so small, his ribs visible through his pale skin.
Goosebumps are on his thin arms. He needs to eat more, but I fight the urge to do as my mother would have done and force feed.
I just need to keep giving him nutritious options for food so he can grow into the strong boy he should be.
“I’m scared,” he admits, and the vulnerability of that statement makes my throat tight.
“I know.” I keep my voice gentle, the way my father used to speak to me when I was young and afraid of the dark. “But I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”
Daniel takes a deep breath and slides into the water, and I catch him like I promised. His hands immediately grip my shoulders, fingers digging in with surprising strength.
“I’ve got you,” I say again. “You’re safe.”
We spend an hour in the pool. I teach him to float on his back, my hand supporting his spine. I show him how to kick, and how to hold his breath underwater.
He’s cautious about everything, testing each new skill carefully before committing.
When his lips start to turn blue despite the heated water, I wrap him in one of the fluffy towels and we sit on a lounger.
He’s shivering, pressed against my side, and I realize this is the first time he’s willingly touched me.
My chest warms and I tentatively wrap an arm around him to bring him closer. He doesn’t fight me.
“You did good,” I tell him, rubbing his shoulder through the towel. “You’re a natural swimmer.”
“Really?” He looks up at me, and there’s something hopeful in his face. He wants to believe me.
“Really.” I tousle his wet hair and smile at him. “A few more lessons and you’ll be swimming on your own.”
He nods, considering this as he kicks his feet. “Mama doesn’t know how to swim either.”
I fight a scowl. Of course she doesn’t. Another thing she couldn’t afford to learn. Another skill she couldn’t pass on to our son.
“Maybe we can teach her together,” I suggest, keeping my voice light even though I know that would never happen.
Daniel’s face lights up for a moment before the wariness returns. “She wouldn’t want to learn from you.”
Ouch, kid. It stings more than they should even though I know he’s not wrong. “Why not?”
“Because you make her cry,” he says matter-of-factly, without accusation. “She cries at night when she thinks I’m sleeping.”
Fuck.
“Your mother and I…” I search for words that will make sense to a seven-year-old. “We have some things we need to work out. But that doesn’t mean—”
“Are you going to hurt us?” The question is direct, those gray eyes locked on mine, demanding truth.
“No,” I say fiercely, my whole being balking at the thought of hurting my own child. “Never. You’re my son, Daniel. I would die before I let anyone hurt you. Including myself.”
He studies me for a long moment. “Mama said you’re dangerous.”
Of course she did. “I can be.” There’s no point in lying to Daniel and I also don’t want to. The child has already been lied to about so much. I squeeze his arm. “But not to you. Never to you or your mother.”
Daniel eyes me, as if not sure he can believe me. “Then why is she scared of you?”
Jesus, how do I explain this?
How do I tell a child that I have no idea?
That everything that’s happened is because she saw something that scared her so badly that she didn’t trust me with the truth?
I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“That’s between your mother and me,” I say instead. “But I promise you, Daniel—you’re safe here. Both of you are.”
He nods slowly then shivers again. “Can we go back now? I want to see Mama.”
I incline my head. “Of course.”
When we return to the suite, Aria is pacing by the window. She whirls when the door opens, and relief floods her face when she sees Daniel.
“Baby!” She drops to her knees and pulls him into her arms. Strands of her dark hair escape her loose braid and my fingers itch to tuck it back. I clench my fists instead. “How was it? Did you have fun?”
“I learned to float,” Daniel says, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “And kick. Maksim says I’m a natural.”
Her eyes flick to mine over his head. There’s a mixture of emotions in them—gratitude, maybe, mixed with resentment.
“That’s wonderful, Danny boy.” She kisses the top of his head. “Why don’t you go get changed into dry clothes?”
When Daniel disappears into his bedroom, Aria stands and clasps her hands in front of her. She eyes me warily as she pushes her hair back. “Thank you for…not pushing him.”
“He’s my son.” I keep my voice neutral, trying to not let the resentment bleed through. “I’m not going to traumatize him.”
“No, you’ll just keep us locked up like prisoners,” she says sarcastically.
“You’re not prisoners. The door is unlocked during the day. You have access to the entire house and grounds.”
“But not off the property.”
I shake my head. “No. Not yet.”
Aria scowls and crosses her arms across her chest, her wariness bleeding into bitterness. “Not ever, you mean.”
I don’t answer because she’s right. I’m never letting them leave, and I won’t give her the chance to run again.
“I need to go into the city tomorrow,” I say instead. “Business with Nikolai. I’ll be gone most of the day.”
Her face pales with fear. “And Daniel?” she whispers.
“Will stay here. With you.” I pause, unsure why she looks so scared. “Unless you’d like him to come with me? He could meet his uncle.”
“No,” she says immediately, her voice sharp. “Absolutely not.”
I scowl. “He’s family, Aria. Daniel should know his family.”
“He knows his mother,” she retorts. “That’s enough family for now.”
We stare at each other, the old anger simmering between us. Then I turn and leave before I say something I’ll regret.
The next day, I take Daniel to see the stables.
There are four horses on the property.
Two are mine and two belong to the estate manager who lives in the cottage near the south fence.
I’ve always found horses calming, the rhythmic work of grooming and riding a meditation when my mind gets too dark.
Daniel’s eyes go wide when he sees them. “They’re so big,” he says in awe.
“Come meet Ranger.” I lead him to the first stall where a bay gelding is eating hay. “He’s gentle. You can pet him.”
Daniel reaches out tentatively, his small hand hovering just above Ranger’s nose.
When the horse doesn’t move, he touches him, and wonder spreads across his face.
“He’s soft,” he breathes.
“Want to help me brush him?” I ask, drinking in the look of joy on his face. I would do anything to keep him happy.
We spend the morning in the stable.
I teach Daniel how to curry the horse’s coat and pick out his hooves.
I even show him to bridle Ranger.