12. Maksim
Maksim
I walk through the streets of Little Havana with Damien beside me. The heat is oppressive, and my shirt is sticking to my back. We’re dressed in all black. We’re here on business and have to look the part.
The cafe is neutral territory. No one faction controls it. The owner is a nice Italian guy who minds his business. He doesn’t mind playing host, but if someone starts trouble, he will not hesitate to handle things. He’s loosely connected to the Italians, but he doesn’t necessarily claim them.
Arlind sits at a corner table with two of his men.
His eyes track me as I approach, cold and calculating.
He’s pissed, which is understandable. But fuck with me, and I will not hesitate to strike.
That’s the mistake he and his cronies made.
They assume that because I play nice, mind my business, and stay out of their dealings, I can be pushed around.
It’s their fault they had to find out the hard way.
They see my restraint as weakness.
That’s the game. They never see me coming.
I slide into the seat across from him without invitation. Damien remains standing, his hand resting casually near his weapon.
“Sokolov.” Arlind’s accent is thick. “I wondered when you would come.”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries.” I lean back in my chair, projecting a confidence I don’t entirely feel. “I’m here to make you an offer.”
“An offer.” He smiles coldly. “You destroy two of my distribution houses and kill eight of my men, and now you want to negotiate?”
“I want to buy her.” I pull out my phone and open my banking app. “One hundred thousand. Cash. Today. You walk away clean and we never speak of this again.”
Arlind stares at me, trying to figure out if I’m joking. Then he laughs, and the ugly sound makes my skin crawl.
“You think this is about money?” He leans forward. “You think I care about a hundred thousand dollars?”
“Everyone cares about money.”
“Not when it comes to matters of honor.” His smile disappears. “You humiliated my man in your club. You took what was mine in front of witnesses. You killed my men. And now you think you can pay me off like I’m a street dealer?”
I feel my jaw tighten. “Name your price.”
“There is no price.” He sits back. “The girl was promised to me years ago. Her father made a deal he couldn’t keep. Her mother ran. We searched for nine years. And just when we get her back, you steal her.”
“She’s not property.”
“She is to me.” He picks up his coffee and takes a slow sip.
"You want to know what's funny? I don't even want her for myself.
She was meant for someone else. A gift to someone who makes me look like a street corner thug by comparison.
" He sets down his cup. "You have no idea what you've walked into, Sokolov. "
The room narrows to one word.
A fucking gift.
“Who?”
“That’s not your concern.” He sets down his cup. "What is your concern is that you've made an enemy you can't afford to have. Your money means nothing."
“Then take it as compensation for the distribution houses.”
He laughs again. “You owe me far more than that for what you destroyed. But tell you what, I’ll accept your money. Consider it a down payment on the debt you owe me.”
I transfer the money right there, watching as he checks his phone and nods.
“Good,” he says. “Now we understand each other. You owe me, Sokolov. And one day, I will collect.”
“Try to touch her again, and there won’t be enough of you left to collect anything.”
His expression hardens. “Threats? From you? Let me make something very clear. You might carry the Sokolov name, but you’re not pakhan. You’re the forgotten son, the one who plays with whores and pretends he’s not part of the bratva. Your brother Sergei has power. You? You’re nothing.”
I feel the rage building, but I keep my voice level.
“Fucking with the Sokolov bratva will incite a war. I don’t mind throwing the weight of my name around when necessary.
I don’t have to be pakhan. I’m a Sokolov, and I’m more dangerous than my brother.
He has rules to follow to maintain peace. I don’t.”
“Start your war. See how long you last when we come with full force. See how quickly your brothers abandon you when they realize you’re risking everything for a girl you have no business wanting.”
I stand slowly. “Stay away from her. This is your only warning.”
“Or what? You’ll blow up more of my properties?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Go ahead. For every one you destroy, I’ll take two of yours. For every man you kill, I’ll kill three of your whores. This is a game you cannot win, Sokolov.”
I lean forward. “I’ll make sure that when you fall, you never get back up. You’d be a fucking fool if you think I can’t win. I’ve already won.”
His eyes flash with something dark. “You just declared war.”
“No,” I say quietly. “You declared war when you killed Mara. I’m just finishing it.”
I turn and walk out with Damien falling into step beside me. We’re halfway to the car when he finally speaks.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
“Marrying her kicks off a war. You understand that, right? The Albanians will see it as a direct challenge. They’ll come after you with everything they have.”
I open the car door. “I don’t care what it costs.”
Damien stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Have you fucked her?”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snarl.
“Maksim, what did you do?”
“I kissed her.”
“Jesus Christ, Maksim.” He runs a hand over his face. “What the fuck are you doing? Thousands of women would have you. Beautiful women who would never ask you to sacrifice everything.”
“I know!” I throw my arms up. “But I have. I did. And I will marry her.”
He’s quiet for several seconds.
“This isn’t about her anymore, is it?” he questions softly. “This is about your mom.”
The words hit hard. I feel my hands curl into fists.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“You lost your mother.” His voice softens. “You weren’t able to save her. But you can save Lila. Is that it?”
“Shut up, Damien.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? This isn’t about wanting her or protecting your operation or even your pride. This is about that scared sixteen-year-old boy who watched his mother die and swore he’d never let it happen again.”
I round on him, grab his shirt, and slam him against the car. “I said shut up!”
He doesn’t fight back.
“You can’t save everyone.” It’s a phrase we say way too often in this business. “Sometimes, people die no matter what you do.”
I release him and step back. “Not her. She doesn’t die.”
“Even if it costs you everything?”
“Even then.”
I get in the car and start the engine. Damien climbs into the passenger seat, and we drive in silence.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m trying to rewrite history, to save the girl I couldn’t save before.
Or maybe I just can’t stomach the thought of another woman dying because men like Arlind think they own her.
Either way, I’m in too deep to turn back now. I was in too deep the moment I laid eyes on her.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sergei.
We need to talk.
I should have known this was coming. You don’t start a war in Miami without the pakhan finding out. You don't drag the Sokolov name into this without consequences.
“Sergei,” I say to Damien.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
He whistles low. “You’re fucked.”
“Probably.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“The truth,” I say finally. “I’m going to tell him the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That I’m marrying her. And if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me after the wedding.”
Damien laughs. “You really have lost your mind.”
Maybe I have.
“Get the word out. Everyone needs to know she’s mine. My wife. I’m going to put a ring on her finger and my name on her life. I dare anyone to try to take her from me.”
He exhales. That one breath tells me everything.
“You can leave,” I offer.
“Fuck you.”
I smile. I was hoping he’d say that.