16. Maksim
Maksim
I step off the plane in Vegas, and I’m irritated as the desert heat hits me hard.
People always tell me dry heat is better, but I call bullshit.
I feel like I’m inhaling sand instead of oxygen.
I was not cut out for desert living. This is all Nikolai’s thing.
I’d be happy to stay in Florida, but I didn’t have a choice.
Nikolai summoned me, which means I’m preparing to be lectured like I’m fifteen instead of thirty-six.
Damien stayed behind in Miami. Someone needs to watch over things while I’m gone.
Watch over her. I’ve got Sampson with me.
Nikolai’s team will make sure I don’t end up with a bullet in my head.
Vegas people don’t fuck around. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here.
Nikolai dominates it, but the constant threat is just not my thing.
The car that picks me up from the airport is one of Nikolai’s, black and armored, with tinted windows that are needed for relief from the sun and prying eyes. Everything my brother does is excessive. He’s the middle Sokolov, the one who has something to prove.
We pull up to one of his legitimate businesses, a construction site for a massive hotel and casino.
The Vegas skyline stretches beyond it. Prime real estate.
The hotel that used to stand on this lot had a fire.
The fire happened after the owner refused to sell, even though he had made a deal with my brother. Very fortunate for Nikolai.
Nikolai is waiting near a trailer that serves as the site office. He’s dressed in all black despite the heat, arms crossed, and wearing an expression I know too well.
This is going to be a fucking blast.
“Brother.” I approach with my hands in my pockets.
“Don’t ‘brother’ me.” There is a dangerous air about him that is terrifying even when he’s smiling. He spent more time with our father before the old man died. Dad was always harder on him; I never understood why. “You want to explain what the fuck is happening in Miami?”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Maksim.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to that tone that hints at violence.
I love my brother, but I would never pick a fight with him.
He’s the quietest and most volatile of the three of us.
“One of my armored trucks got hit last week. Three men are dead, and half a million in product is gone.”
I frown. “That’s not on me.”
“Isn’t it?” He jabs a finger at my chest. “My operations have gotten hit ever since you started a war with the Albanians. They know that hurting me hurts you. They’re attacking the bratva.”
“You have plenty of enemies out here,” I point out. “This could be anyone.”
“It’s not anyone, though. It’s retaliation for your bullshit.” He rubs his jaw. I can’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but I imagine he’s glaring at me. “You married some girl you don’t know, and now, we’re all paying for it.”
“She needed protection.”
“So do a thousand other girls! You don’t marry them!” He’s shouting now, and several construction workers turn to look. He waves them off. “Get back to work!”
I look past him at the construction site. Even half-finished, I can tell the building will be impressive. Nikolai has always been good at building empires, making money, and establishing himself as someone who matters. He channels the darkness into something that makes money.
“Come on.” Some of the anger drains from his voice. “I’ll show you what we’re building.”
We walk through the site, wearing hard hats and avoiding equipment and workers. Nikolai explains the layout, including the casino floor, the hotel towers, and the restaurants and shops. It’s as massive as it is ambitious.
“This is good work,” I tell him honestly. “You’re doing well here.”
“Better than well.” There’s pride in his voice. “By next year, this will be one of the biggest attractions on the Strip. We’re talking hundreds of millions in revenue.”
“Legitimate revenue.”
He smirks. “Mostly legitimate.”
We climb to the top floor and look out over the Vegas sprawl. From here, we can see everything: the old casinos, the new developments, and the desert stretching beyond the city limits.
“Mom would have loved this,” Nikolai says quietly.
I haven’t let myself think about our mother in a while.
“Yeah,” I manage. “She would have.”
“She always wanted us to be successful. To build something that was ours that had nothing to do with Dad.” He pauses. “She wanted us to be legitimate. To leave the violence behind.”
“We’re trying.”
“Are we?” He looks at me. “Or are we just getting better at hiding it?”
“How’s Sergei?” I ask, changing the subject. “How are the twins?”
Nikolai almost smiles. “They’re good. Had a video call with him yesterday. He’s exhausted but happy. Never thought I’d see the day Sergei Sokolov would be changing diapers and singing lullabies.”
I smile. “Fatherhood suits him.”
“It does.” Nikolai leans against the railing. “He’s got everything now. The power, the family, and the legacy. Everything the old man wanted for him.”
“You don’t sound bitter.”
“I’m not. I never wanted to be pakhan. Too much responsibility and too many rules.” He glances at me. “That’s what you and I have in common. We chose our paths.”
“And look where it got us,” I mutter.
“Speak for yourself. I’m doing fine.” He pauses. “Until you decided to start World War Three over a girl.”
I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.” He turns to face me. “So, tell me about your wife. When will I meet her? When will you give us some nieces and nephews to spoil?”
“It’s not that kind of marriage.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What kind of marriage is it then?”
“Protection. I married her to keep her safe. That’s it.”
“That’s it,” he repeats slowly. “You married a woman you’re not sleeping with?”
“Yes.”
“Maksim, you’re not a monk. If your wife isn’t in your bed, will she be okay with another woman in it? Will I get a call from Damien that your dick’s been sliced off, or that you’ve had a knife driven through your eye while you slept?”
The questions are valid because both things have happened to men we know. The women who marry into the bratva aren’t known for being sweet or polite.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“You don’t know?” Nikolai is genuinely confused. “What kind of arrangement is this? You’re protecting her but not touching her? This makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“What happens when you want sex? You just... what, go to one of your girls?”
I imagine walking into one of my clubs, picking someone, and taking them home. That’s what I would have done before. What I’ve done dozens of times. Not any of my girls; that would cause problems within the hierarchy. Cinder would cut off my balls.
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
“You don’t want another woman,” Nikolai realizes.
“No.” The admission feels like pulling teeth. “I don’t.”
“You want her.”
I lean against the railing, staring out at the red hills beyond the city.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. She made it clear that she’s not interested. This is a business arrangement. She gets protection, I get... I don’t know what I get.”
“You get to play hero,” Nikolai says, not unkindly. “You get to save her.”
I want to hit him, but he’s not wrong.
“She doesn’t want me,” I say quietly. “She tolerates me. She lives in my house, eats my food, and uses my resources. But she doesn’t want me.”
“Have you asked her?”
“She told me she’d never sleep with me. Said I could go fuck my other women if I wanted.”
Nikolai winces. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what will you do?”
I don’t have an answer. I’ve been avoiding the situation, throwing myself into work, and staying away from the house as much as possible. Being near her and not being able to touch her is torture. Every day I stay away, I think about her more.
“I’m not going to do anything,” I say. “Ride out the Albanians’ rage and then ship her off.”
“You think that will work?”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“You probably should have thought about that before you fucking married her.”
“It was an impulsive decision,” I admit. “One of my girls had been murdered, and I didn’t want to think about holding Lila’s dead body.”
He’s quiet. “Like Mom.”
“Don’t,” I warn him. “Do not start that shit.”
“You were so young.” His tone is gentle, which is rare. “No child should ever have to see what you saw that day.”
The memories flash through my mind, and I shake my head. I can’t think about that day often. It’ll destroy me.
“I was sixteen,” I murmur.
“A kid not ready for that kind of violence. Not even in our world.”
I fight away the images of my mother's broken body. The blood. The memory hooks under my ribs and pulls tight. Even at sixteen, I understood what had been done to her. I remember taking off my shirt and covering her nudity.
I inhale through my nose, fighting back the bile and pain that comes any time I remember that day.
“They killed her mother,” I say.
Nikolai nods. “Lots of mothers get killed.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re saving Mom, and you’re saving yourself. You’ve been pulling women off the streets for years, and you’ve never married any of them. How old is this girl?”
I remain silent, unwilling to admit the truth.
“Maksim.”
“Nineteen.”
“Not much older than you were.”
“I know what you’re suggesting, and you’re wrong,” I tell him. “This isn’t fucked-up psychobabble nonsense. It wouldn’t matter if she were forty. I still would have done what I did.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
This fucker.
“I want her, Nikolai. But she doesn’t want me. She looks at me like I’m a necessary evil. Something she has to tolerate to stay alive.”
“She’s your wife.”
“No, not like that. I need her to want me.”
“Then make her want you.”
“How? I’ve fucked up so many times. I told her I wanted to take her virginity to make her worthless to the Albanians. She punched me in the face.”
“You said what?” Nikolai laughs. “No wonder she doesn’t want you.”
“Thanks. That’s helpful.”
“Come on; I want to show you the changes we’ve made at the other hotel,” he says.
“Still planning world domination out here?” I ask as we make our way down.
“Not planning, little brother. I already dominate.”
“They’re going to try and shut you down,” I warn him.
“They can try, but Vegas is mine. The sooner they accept that, the easier their lives will be.”