11. Maya
MAYA
I rest my head on the pillow, the book that I’m trying to read tossed to the other side of the bed. There’s not much out here to entertain myself with; no internet connection, no games, just a handful of historical nonfiction that I have been struggling to actually get into.
But on the other side of the door lays a far more frightening prospect, and I know that the best thing I can do is keep myself to myself for a little while longer.
How long has it been since we arrived at the cabin? A few days? Something like that. They have all blurred together by now.
I have heard him on the phone, speaking in hushed tones to whoever is on the other end of the line.
Pressing my ear to the door, I’ve heard mention of a new apartment, of a fresh set of guards, of other members of his organization flying in from around the country to fill in the gaps left by the devastating attack on the house.
Even now, I can still see the bodies splayed on the front steps, the scent of blood in the air, and it’s enough to make me sick. I just have to pray that the baby has not absorbed any of the stress that has coursed through me these last few days, though that, frankly, seems pretty unlikely.
The baby. That’s the trigger behind all of this, all of his intensity.
The moment I told him that I was pregnant, something in him seemed to shift.
Sure, he was angry before, furious, even, but like he told me, the attack on the house is now an attack on his family. Now, he’s willing to take out anyone.
Even his brother. That’s the part that scares me the most, knowing he would turn against his own flesh and blood like that.
Where does that leave me, leave the baby?
We might be the cause for his crusade now, but if something changes, then we might be on the wrong end of his fury, and I don’t even want to think where that would-
Suddenly, a knock sounds on the door, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“What is it?” I ask, springing to my feet and hurrying over to it.
Any news from him, I feel like, has to be bad news.
He has mostly been leaving me alone, making sure I’m eating, though I do not have much of an appetite.
I could put it down to morning sickness, but I know it has more to do with the stress and fear that has been threatening to get the better of me ever since we arrived.
He opens the door slightly, and I find him standing on the other side, shirt sleeves rolled up. “I’m making dinner. Join me.”
“No, that’s okay, I haven’t had that much of an appetite anyway, it would be a waste—”
“I wasn’t asking, Maya. You need to eat.” His tone has that edge to it that it did before, and I can sense that he is not going to take well to being blown off.
I run a hand through my hair, and glance around. “Let me just take a shower and get changed,” I reply, bargaining for a little more time so I can gather myself before we are alone together again. “Ten minutes?”
“Sure,” he replies. Unspoken is the addition, ‘and don’t keep me waiting,’ though I’m sure he wants nothing more than to mention that too.
He allows me a few minutes to gather myself, at least, and I hop in a warm shower and change into some fresh clothes.
There isn’t much here in the way of women’s fashion, I guess because he didn’t expect to be sharing this space with a woman, so I have to stick to sweatpants and a tee that would better fit a guy.
Hey, at least I don’t have to worry about maternity wear, right...?
I emerge nervously into the kitchen, to find him hard at work over the stove. He glances over at me and cocks an eyebrow in greeting.
“Hey,” I murmur, slipping into a seat at the breakfast bar. “What are you making? It smells good...”
I have to admit, as much as I’m not exactly here out of choice, this cabin is a million times nicer than the place I was living in back in the city. That studio barely had enough room for me to spread my arms from wall to wall.
This place, though it is not exactly huge, is well-appointed, a wood cabin that looks like it could have been used by a logging company or something back in the day.
There is a large living room attached to the kitchen and two bedrooms, the rustic wooden walls giving the place a cozy feel.
Or, at least, they would, if it hadn’t been for the circumstances under which I found myself here.
“Some noodles,” he replies. “Didn’t have much in the cupboards, but I made do.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to do a better job than me,” I add, with a slight laugh. “I can’t cook to save my life.”
He chuckles slightly, and I feel myself begin to relax. It’s not like I can be on my guard every second I’m around him. He wants to keep me safe, and that’s all that should matter to me right now, as difficult as it is to accept that.
“Can you cook? Guess I’m going to find out...”
“I’m alright at it,” he replies, pushing the hissing and spitting noodles around the pan to make sure they are fully coated in the deep reddish sauce he has made for them. “Before I hired Marlena, I used to cook for myself pretty often.”
Marlena—that was the name of the housekeeper. I’m pretty sure he had mentioned her to me when I had first arrived. My stomach sinks when I think back to what I saw on the day we fled the place. I have a bad feeling that she didn’t make it out of there alive.
“Did she...?”
He pauses for a moment, and then shakes his head. “No.”
He doesn’t need to say anymore. I can see how much it hurts him, having to admit something like that out loud, and I wonder how close the two of them were.
Had she worked for their family for a long time?
Taken care of him when he was a little boy?
I think about pressing for more, but I get the feeling I would only come up against the harsh reality of how deeply he is stung by her loss.
“So how long till it’s ready?” I ask, turning the subject to something a little more pleasant. “I’m starving, and it smells really good...”
“I thought you said you didn’t have much of an appetite,” he remarks, glancing back at me, eyebrow cocked. I shrug.
“Guess the baby likes the smell of what you’re cooking,” I reply, flashing him a grin.
And, to my surprise, he returns it. I feel a little flutter in my chest, something close to surprise that he actually doesn’t seem to despise me, after all that I have kept from him.
I’m sure there is still a whole hell of a lot for us to figure out, but as it stands, I find myself beginning to unwind, something coming unstuck within me as I figure out where exactly I stand in all of this.
“About ten minutes,” he replies, and I rise to my feet, pulling open a couple of the cabinets.
“I’ll get the table laid. Well, the breakfast bar.”
“I can handle that—”
“You’re cooking,” I remind him. “Least I can do to help, right?”
He pauses for a second, as though considering arguing with me, but he thinks better of it.
I start to fuss around with the plates and cutlery, pulling out enough to serve up the noodles he is making, and the two of us fall into a companionable silence as we work.
I know that this man likely holds the key to more power than I have ever encountered in my life, but right now, we could just be any other couple, getting ready for dinner after a long day.
He grabs the plates and serves up the noodles, which are deliciously fragrant and perfectly cooked. He hands me a plate, and I inhale deeply, letting out a sigh.
“God, this smells just like the takeout place I used to buy from in high school,” I remark, as I tuck in. “It had the greasiest fries and they used to serve them with this crazy, spicy sauce... I think that’s how I made it through my exams, honestly.”
He smirks slightly, watching me from the other side of the table as I tuck in. There is something piercing about his gaze, something about him that seems to reach deep down inside of me, studying a part of me I’m not sure I want anyone else to discover.
“Did you go to college afterwards?”
“What do you mean...?”
“When you finished high school. Did you go to college?”
I shake my head, twirling some of the noodles around my fork as I frown.
“No,” I admit. “I was going to go, but my dad... He wasn’t doing well.
Wasn’t taking care of himself. I thought he was just depressed, but that was the start of his gambling addiction getting really bad.
Shit, I guess that’s when he first got in touch with your brother, needed someone who wasn’t going to ask too many questions when it came to lending him money... ”
Anton winces. “My brother’s not the kind of man you want to have a debt with.”
I snort. “Yeah, trust me, I’ve figured that one out already,” I reply, my voice heavy. “I just...”
I struggle to put it into words, instead taking a bite of my noodles in the hopes of distracting myself.
“I just wish I’d got to have that same experience that everyone else my age got, you know?” I remark. I don’t know what it is that is making me come clean with him like this—it’s not as though I’m exactly open with anyone else in my life about how much I feel as though I have missed out on.
But this man, the one sitting opposite me right now, he’s the closest I’ve got to family, given that he’s the father of my child. And, for the first time in a long time, I feel a little less burdened by the weight of it all, some of the heaviness of my pain finally beginning to ease.
“I know how you feel.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I didn’t get a chance to do all of that either,” he explains.
“When my father died, I took over the business. Became the Pakhan, just like he had been. Artem, he’s older, and he thought he had some right to it, but even back then, our father could see that he wasn’t the man for the job.
That he would find some way to make a mess of it, no matter how hard we tried to save him from himself. ”
He takes a bite of his noodles, sipping from the glass of water beside him.
He seems as surprised as I am that he is laying it out so openly.
After all that has happened, I guess that we should be upfront with each other; any more secrets are going to get spilled eventually, at least in a cabin as tiny as this, and I don’t know how long it will be before we can return to the city.
If at all.
“You grew up in that mansion?” I ask, with some interest.
He nods. “Yeah, my whole life,” he replies grimly.
I think back to the way he launched himself into action when that explosion happened, the moment he smelled the smoke beginning to drift through the air, how he took care of everything like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He didn’t even stop to grieve the loss of his home.
Not when I was there. Not when I was in danger.
“I’m sorry you lost it, then,” I remark, trying not to let the emotion sound too obviously in my tone. He shrugs.
“It’s a house,” he replies. “What matters is keeping the family name alive.”
“I guess so...”
He flicks his gaze down to my belly pointedly, reminding me in no uncertain terms that I’m that very future he is talking about right now.
I rest a hand on my belly. I know I need to get to a doctor, make sure my little one is growing as they are supposed to, but even now, I’m sure I can feel the slight flutter of movement in there, as if they are responding to that acknowledgement from their father.
The thought draws a slight smile to my face, and I tuck in again, glad for the delicious dinner.
And maybe even more glad for the company.
We talk as we eat—nothing too heavy this time around, just about the city, growing up there, our favorite places to eat and drink and go out.
I’m surprised to find that he has an easy way about him when he is not in Pakhan mode, but I guess that’s part of the deal for a man in his line of work.
He needs to make people feel safe, so that they will trust him, because, if they don’t, they are less likely to give him what he wants.
“Good?” he remarks, as he looks down at my empty plate. I nod.
“Amazing,” I reply. “I’m going to have to show you that takeout place I used to go to when we’re back in the city...”
I trail off before I can go any further, wondering if that is a little more than he is ready to hear.
I mean, I don’t know what he is going to want to do when we return to the city.
Is he going to keep me close? Or does he see me as a liability, the reason he lost his home in the first place?
I’m not sure I want to find out. I’m sure there is so much that is still unsaid, so much that he has no made sense of yet, and I’m not certain that it will do me much good to find out about it.
But, for now, I feel like I can finally relax. Finally get the sense that, in this place, at least, I’m going to be able to find a way through, find a way out, no matter how hard it might be. Because, as long as I have good food, good company, and the certainty that nobody will find us out here…
Maybe there’s nothing else I need to worry about at all.
And maybe the man sitting opposite me is not just a fearsome Pakhan, but the first man in so long who has stepped up to show me that he cares for me.