8. Maksim
MAKSIM
Nikolai arrives on a Tuesday afternoon, his black Mercedes pulling up to the front entrance precisely at three. My brother is nothing if not punctual.
I meet him at the door, and we embrace in the same way I embraced Alexander—a brief, firm hand clasp and shoulder bump.
“Maksim.” His voice is cool and controlled. Everything about Nikolai is controlled. “It’s been too long.”
“Only two weeks.” I step back to let him in. “Hardly an eternity.”
“For you, perhaps. For me, it’s two weeks without my enforcer handling problems that keep piling up.” He walks into the foyer, his sharp gray eyes—paler than mine and colder—taking in every detail. “The place has changed since I last was here.”
He’s taller than me by an inch and leaner, with an aristocratic build that makes him look like he belongs in boardrooms rather than the back rooms where Bratva business is actually conducted.
His dark hair is going gray faster than mine, but it’s always impeccably groomed and slicked back from his high forehead.
He’s wearing a black three-piece suit that was made specifically for him.
I’m not sure how he’s wearing it in this heat, but I never bother to question my brother.
At forty-five, Nikolai Sokolov looks like exactly what he is—a man who inherited an empire and built it into something even more formidable. He has sharp, angular features with high Slavic cheekbones and a hawkish nose and thin lips that rarely smile.
He’s my brother, and I love him, but I’ve never been under any illusions about what he is. Nikolai is a snake. He’s elegant, deadly, and absolutely ruthless when it comes to protecting what’s his.
“Where is he?” Nikolai asks, his eyes scanning the hallway. “This nephew I’ve heard so much about.”
“In the sitting room with his mother. Come.”
We walk through the house, and I can see Nikolai checking out the signs of a child living here. Daniel left a toy truck on a side table and there’s small sneakers by the door.
All evidence of the life I have with my son.
When we enter the sitting room, Daniel is on the floor working on a puzzle. Aria is on the sofa reading, but she looks up when we enter. I see her face go blank when she sees Nikolai.
“Aria,” I say. “This is my brother, Nikolai. Nikolai, Aria Delano.”
She stands, and I can see the tension in her shoulders. “Mr. Sokolov. It’s nice to meet you.”
Nikolai’s eyes rake over her. “Miss Delano. I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. My brother was quite devoted to his search.”
There’s something in his tone that makes it sound like an accusation. Like her disappearance was a personal affront to the Sokolov family.
Aria stiffens and opens her mouth to say something, but Nikolai waves a hand.
“The past is past. What matters is the present.” He turns his attention to Daniel, who’s stopped working on his puzzle and is watching this stranger with wary eyes. “And this must be Daniel.”
My son stands slowly, and I see Nikolai go absolutely still.
The resemblance is undeniable. Daniel truly is a Sokolov through and through. It’s like Aria’s genes didn’t even really try.
“Daniel,” I say gently. “Come say hello to your uncle.”
Daniel walks over slowly, stopping a respectful distance away. “Hello, sir.”
Nikolai’s lips curve slightly into not quite a smile, but it’s close. “He has excellent manners. Your doing?”
“Mostly.” I put my hand on Daniel’s shoulder, ignoring Aria stiffening. “Daniel, this is my brother Nikolai. Your uncle.”
“Hello, Uncle Nikolai.” Daniel offers his hand the way I’ve taught him.
Nikolai takes it, but his eyebrows rise. “Uncle Nikolai? No.” He looks at me. “He calls you what? Papa?”
I try not to wince as the subject is still painful for me. “No, we aren’t there yet. He calls me Maks.”
“Then he will call me Dyadya Kolya. The Russian way.” He looks down at Daniel, and his voice softens slightly, as much as Nikolai’s voice ever softens. “You are a Sokolov, boy. You will learn to speak like one.”
Daniel looks uncertain, glancing at me for guidance. I nod. “It’s a sign of respect. In Russian families, you use the proper titles.”
“Dyadya Kolya,” Daniel repeats carefully, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables.
“Better.” Nikolai releases his hand. “You’ll learn. The boy needs Russian lessons, Maksim. He should speak his family’s language.”
“I’ve been learning some Russian already,” Daniel pipes up, his voice eager. “Maks has been teaching me. I can count to twenty and I know how to say good morning and—”
Nikolai’s eyebrows rise sharply. The temperature in the room drops several degrees. He looks at me, his pale gray eyes cold and assessing. “You allow the boy to speak so freely?” he asks in Russian.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aria take a step forward, her protective instincts flaring. She doesn’t speak Russian, but she can read the disapproval in Nikolai’s tone. Daniel’s smile falters.
“Not here,” I say quietly in Russian, squeezing Daniel’s shoulder and giving my son a reassuring smile. “Daniel is picking up Russian beautifully. He’s very bright. But I’ve been thinking about getting him formal lessons so he can learn properly.”
“Don’t think. Do.” Nikolai straightens, his attention already moving on, dismissing the moment as if it never happened. “We need to discuss business. Miss Delano, would you mind giving us privacy?”
Aria nods quickly. “Of course. Danny boy, why don’t we go to the library?”
She practically flees the room with our son, and I see Nikolai watching her go with those cold, calculating eyes.
“She’s afraid of me,” he observes.
“She’s afraid of the Bratva world. She’s been away from it for eight years.”
“Mmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Let’s talk in your office.”
We settle in my office with vodka and files spread across my desk. Nikolai gets right to business as he always does.
“The embezzlement investigation is getting more complex,” he says, pulling up documents on his tablet. “We’ve traced the missing funds through shell companies in Cyprus, the Caymans, and Luxembourg. Whoever is doing this has been very careful.”
I frown. “How much are we talking about?”
“Conservatively? Fifteen million over the past three years. Possibly more going back further.” I whistle as my brother’s jaw tightens. “Someone has been bleeding us dry, and they’ve been good at hiding it.”
“Who’s working the investigation?”
“Alexander primarily. He’s been going through all our financial records tracking transactions and identifying patterns.” Nikolai slides the tablet across to me. “These are the accounts he’s flagged as suspicious.”
I scroll through the documents, and something about them bothers me. The highlighted accounts seem random. Some are clearly suspicious, but others look legitimate. And there are accounts that should be highlighted that aren’t.
The pattern doesn’t quite make sense.
“Has Alexander explained his methodology?” I ask.
Nikolai looks up from his phone. “He’s following the money. Why?”
“Some of these don’t seem…” I trail off, unable to articulate what’s bothering me. “Never mind. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
Nikolai gives me a sharp look. “You doubt Alexander’s competence?”
“No. Just…the pattern seems odd.”
“Alexander has been doing this for fifteen years. He knows financial investigations better than anyone.” Nikolai takes the tablet back, annoyed with me. “If he’s flagged these accounts, there’s a reason.”
I nod, but the unease lingers.
We discuss other business—territorial disputes and personnel issues. Normal organizational matters. After an hour, there’s a knock on the door.
Alexander walks in, and I see the shift in Nikolai’s demeanor immediately. My brother actually smiles and it’s not the cold curve of lips he usually offers.
“Alexander. Right on time.”
“Nikolai. Maksim.” Alexander nods to us both. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all. We were just discussing your findings.” Nikolai gestures to the chair next to him. “Sit. We’ll continue over dinner.”
“Actually,” I say, “let me check with Aria about dinner arrangements. We usually eat as a family now.”
I leave them talking and head toward the sitting room where Aria and Daniel went. But as I approach, I see Aria in the hallway, her face ashen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But she looks scared. “I just—I’m not feeling well. I think Daniel and I will eat in our suite tonight.”
What is this about? “Aria, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“Please.” Her voice is strained. “I just need some space.”
She disappears up the stairs before I can argue, and I’m left staring after her in confusion.
When I return to my office, Nikolai notices immediately. “Where’s Miss Delano?”
I shut the door, unable to shake the strange feeling. “Not feeling well. She and Daniel will eat upstairs.”
Nikolai’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Convenient timing.”
I give my brother a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
“She seemed fine until Alexander and I arrived.” He takes a sip of vodka. “Does she have a problem with us specifically?”
This is the first time she’s met Nikolai so it’s not him. It’s something to do with Alexander, I know it. Her strange reactions and her escape attempt started soon after he arrived. “I don’t know. She’s been acting odd for a while.”
“Hmm.” Nikolai exchanges a glance with Alexander. “Perhaps she’s simply overwhelmed. The Bratva world can be intimidating for outsiders, especially women who’ve been away from it.”
“Perhaps,” I agree, but it doesn’t feel right.
Alexander speaks for the first time, his eyebrows knit with concern. “I hope I haven’t done anything to make her uncomfortable. If there’s an issue, I’d be happy to address it.”
“No, it’s not you.” The words come automatically, but as I say them, I wonder. Is it Alexander? Is there something specific about him that triggers Aria’s panic?