Chapter 34 Maksim
MAKSIM
The days that follow settle into a rhythm I never thought I’d have.
Meetings with my inner circle in the mornings, afternoons with Leo, evenings with Ivy.
Between all of it, Lettie bounces around the estate like she was born for this life, half-charming and half-exasperating everyone in equal measure.
It’s certainly been a wild, and unexpected, change of pace.
Most importantly, Ivy no longer flinches under the gaze of the people in this house. She’s claiming her place here with me, with Leo.
With all of us.
She spends hours talking with Katya, even if half their conversations are veiled insults and jabs softened by smiles.
Roman has grown fond of her in that way only worn warriors can, with that unwavering and quietly respectful manner.
Lev sees her in a way few others can, pulling her out of the shadows she sometimes still finds herself hiding in.
And Lettie? God help us, she has Matvey practically running in circles with every passing flirtation. Lev had teased him just yesterday about needing a cold shower after Lettie winked at him during breakfast and his face had turned three shades redder than I’ve ever seen.
She is a relentless woman, but I suspect she’s enjoying the chaos too much to give it up just yet. Lev, of course, watches the chaos with his usual detached amusement.
But beneath the noise, there is peace. I hear Leo’s laughter echoing down hallways that were silent for too long. I see Ivy curled up in the library, pretending to read while she actually watches our son build towers out of my grandfather’s old chess set.
My staff treat her with respect, my guards with deference, and for once in my cursed life, this place feels like home.
Despite Alisa’s absence still gnawing at the edges of my mind, for now, the Bratva holds.
In the evenings, Ivy and I talk about the wedding.
It starts slow. She’s cautious, hesitant in a way that tells me she doesn’t want to tip her hand and reveal just how deeply she’s begun to want this life, afraid the moment she admits to it, the world will rip it away.
I know that feeling too well. So, I give her something to hold onto.
One night after dinner, I find her curled in the library’s corner armchair, her legs folded beneath her and a half-read book in her lap. She looks up, brows lifting when she sees the leather-bound book I’m holding out to her.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She flips it open and freezes. Her lips part in surprise as she flips another page, and another. Inside is a leather-bound wedding planner I’d had Lev track down in the city. Half-filled out in my own handwriting are lists, circled ideas, and a few dreadful sketches of flowers and decor options.
“I’ve been… thinking about colors choices, and the venue.
We’re going to have to choose that soon.
The music, too. My soldiers may not seem the type, but they all enjoy a good party.
I know you’ll have better taste than I do, however, but I wanted you to see that I’m taking it seriously,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
She stares down at the pages, then up at me. And just like that, the floodgates open.
Within twenty-four hours, the library is transformed into a makeshift war room for a very different kind of strategy.
Wedding magazines pile like intelligence briefings.
Red pen slashes across pages like battlefield markings.
Torn photos are pinned to a board we commandeered from my study, each venue and dress style connected by scribbled arrows, loops, and notes.
“This,” she says one evening, pointing to a glossy image taped to the center of the board.
I lean in to study it. “What is this?”
She looks up, exasperated, and then laughs because we’ve been at this for hours and both of our brains are fried. “Our venue. It’s perfect. It’s got the open floor you wanted, the gardens out back where we can take photos, and even a water feature Leo’s going to love.”
I chuckle. “Amazing. Now we just need to make sure it comes with an open bar.”
She swats my shoulder but smiles.
Lettie, of course, inserts herself into planning with the same flair she brings to everything. I find her one afternoon sprawled across the library couch with a binder open across her legs and a color swatch ring between her teeth.
“Ivy,” she says between her clenched teeth, “you have to let me be the maid of honor. It’s non-negotiable.”
Ivy rolls her eyes from across the room. “You just want an excuse to flirt with Maksim’s groomsmen… groomsman? Whatever.”
Her sister pops the swatches out of her mouth and grins. “And?”
I chuckle softly from my armchair, where Leo is playing with a wooden chess set. I’ve long since learned not to get between the Bennett sisters once they’ve found a shared cause to argue about.
Leo glances up from where he’s arranging pawns into a perfect square. “Can I be in the wedding too?”
I glance down at him. “What would you want to do, moy malchik?”
He brightens. “I want to carry the rings! I’ll be really careful, I promise!”
I scoop him up easily and settle him onto my knee. His legs dangle, and he grins up at me with so much hope it makes my chest ache. He claps his hands together in front of him, murmuring ‘please, please, please’ over and over again until I can’t help but give in.
“If you’re the ring bearer, it means you’ll have to walk down the aisle in front of everyone. All eyes will be on you. Are you brave enough for that?” I ask solemnly.
His tiny chest puffs up with the dignity of a young soldier. “Of course I am.”
Ivy’s eyes soften as she watches him. She leans over, stroking a hand through his curls, her fingers gentle. “You’ll do perfectly, my love.”
The moment her eyes meet mine across the space of Leo’s small frame, something shifts there. I see the future reflected in her expression—a family, a ceremony, something sacred even in a world that’s been anything but.
We’re building a life here together again. Brick by brick.
If I could freeze time, I would do it here.
So I could cherish it for as long as it lets us.