22. Maksim
Maksim
I’m still half asleep, with Lila’s hair against my face, and her body warm and fitted against mine.
I’ve slept better the past two nights than I have in years.
She gave me her virginity, and I haven’t been able to let her out of my bed.
I haven’t taken her again. She needs to recover, and I want to make sure she wants this. Wants me.
My phone vibrates again, jostling me fully awake.
I reach for the phone on the nightstand, trying my best not to wake her.
Cinder.
I slide out of bed carefully, pull on my pants in the dark, and step into the hallway before answering.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got a problem.” Cinder doesn’t do greetings. “Mia and Sofie handed in their keys this morning.”
I lean against the wall. “They quit?”
“Packed their bags. Mia wouldn’t even look at me when she left. Sofie cried the whole time, but she wouldn’t stay.” A pause. “They’re scared, Maksim.”
“Of what?”
“Of being associated with you. Rumors are spreading like wildfire. Word is you're bleeding out and too proud to admit it. People are saying the Albanians have you pinned down, and that you can’t do shit about it.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “What else?”
“One of the new girls, Priya, got hurt last night. Bad client. He worked her over pretty good before the house mother got someone in the room.”
I go very still. “How bad?”
“Two broken ribs. Her face is a mess. She’s going to be okay, but she’s not working for a while, and she doesn’t want to press anything. She just wants to disappear.” Another pause. “The client was Albanian, Maksim. He wasn’t there for a good time.”
I rub my eyes. “Where is she now?”
“I’ve got her at the house. Ava’s been with her.”
“Good. Make sure she has everything she needs. Money, time, whatever she wants.” I push off the wall and start moving down the hallway. “I’ll stop by and talk to her.”
“There’s more.” Cinder’s tone tells me I’m not going to like it.
“I’ve been calling around. Emily at the Coral Gables house says three of her girls are talking about leaving.
The Grove house is the same. Rosa told me two are already gone.
The house mothers are trying to hold it together, but the energy is bad, Maksim.
They’re all hearing the same thing. They think you’re finished.
That the Albanians are moving in, and anyone still under your name is a target.
You know this world. Your house. Another house.
A pimp on the corner. They’ll still make their money. ”
I stop at the top of the stairs. The house is quiet below me. Guards at their posts. Everything is normal on the surface.
It’s far from fucking normal.
“My houses are superior. Safer.”
“They used to be,” she says quietly.
“I’ll call all the house mothers,” I say. “Don’t let anyone else walk out the door until I talk to them.”
“I can try. Can’t promise.” She hesitates. “You need to fix this fast. We’ve built something here, Maksim. These women trust us. If that trust goes, it’s done. We’re just another whore house.”
“I know what it means.”
“Do you? Because you’ve been a little distracted lately.”
I don’t take the bait. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
I go back into my room, moving silently to avoid waking Lila.
She needs her rest. She seems physically recovered, but she's not letting herself feel any of it yet. I’ve been there, done that.
One morning, she’ll wake up, and it will all be right there.
It will pull her under. She needs to have a fighting chance, and that requires rest.
I get dressed and scribble a quick note for Lila. When I go downstairs, I find Damien in the kitchen with coffee and a look on his face that says he knows.
“Cinder called you, too,” I say.
“She did.”
“And?”
Damien opens his laptop on the kitchen island and turns it so I can see the screen.
He's built a map. Pins across Miami identify my clubs, houses — Coral Gables, the Grove, Brickell, and two others — distribution points, and supply routes.
Red pins for incidents in the past two weeks.
There are more red pins than I want to count.
“Walk me through it,” I say.
“They’re not hitting you with force anymore,” he says.
“Not head on. They learned from the first round. They know what it costs to come at you directly.” He points to the screen.
“So they changed tactics. They’re squeezing.
Here, here, and here—three of our liquor suppliers have been approached.
Two are reconsidering their contracts. One already pulled out. ”
“I’ll find new suppliers. There’s no shortage of people wanting to sell me alcohol.”
“That’s not the point.” He moves his finger across the map.
"The client who hurt Priya last night wasn't there for sex.
That was Arlind showing every woman in your network what happens when they stay.
" He looks at me. “And when women start believing it, they leave. And when they leave, your houses go dark. And when your houses go dark, your income drops.”
“I look weak,” I say. “To the bratva. To anyone watching.”
“To everyone watching.” He closes the laptop. “He’s not trying to kill you right now, Maksim. He’s trying to starve you. Bleed you out slowly, until you either hand her over or you’re too weak to hold onto anything.”
I hate that it's smart. I've underestimated Arlind's patience. I assumed he'd keep coming at me with guns and fire, because that's what angry men do. But Arlind isn't angry; he's methodical. He's cutting off my air supply one inch at a time and watching to see how long I last.
“What’s our headcount?” I ask. “Across all houses.”
Damien pulls a number from memory. He’s always been better at the operational details than I am.
"We were at forty-eight women across the five houses, plus another twenty working the clubs independently.
With the departures this week, we're down to forty-four.
The club girls are spooked too. And if we lose the ones Emily says are considering leaving, we're looking at real damage. "
“And the clubs?”
“The clubs are holding. The foot traffic is still there. But two of our floor managers have had conversations with people they shouldn’t be talking to. I don’t know yet if it’s curiosity or something more.”
“Find out.”
“On it.” He refills his own coffee. “So, what’s the move, boss?”
I think about my brothers and the weight of the Sokolov name. That name used to be enough. It's not enough right now.
That ends today. When they make me look bad, it makes my brothers look weak.
“I need to talk to all the mothers,” I say. “In person. Not over the phone.” I stand up. “Today.”
“And Lila?”
I glance toward the ceiling.
“She’ll be here.” It’s not the question he’s asking, but I wouldn’t let her go for all the clubs and money in the world. “I want the camera upgrades finished by the time I’m back. Every blind spot covered.”
“They’re working on it.”
“Work faster.” I head for the door. “The client who hurt Priya. Do you have a name?”
“I have a description.”
“That’s enough.” I slide on my sunglasses. “Find him.”
I get home before midnight. Earlier than usual. Sampson says something when I get out of the car, and I wave him off. I don’t want to debrief, or sit in my office and think about the clusterfuck my businesses are becoming. I want to be in my bed.
I want her.
Wanting to go home to something—someone—is a new feeling. I've never had a reason to leave early. Lila’s rearranging my life without even realizing she’s doing it. And I’m not complaining.
I move through the house quietly and head upstairs.
I find her in my room.
She’s in my bed, curled on her side facing the window, with the lamp on the nightstand still on. I think the dark bothers her more than she’ll ever admit. She’s wearing one of my shirts, the hem pooling around her thighs, and her hair loose across my pillow. One hand is tucked under her cheek.
Looking like mine. So fucking beautiful and peaceful.
I watch her sleep. She’s so young, but she’s lived through more in her life than most people ever will.
I undress, leave my clothes on the chair, and slide in behind her. She stirs. She’s a light sleeper and always listening.
“You’re back early,” she murmurs.
“Go back to sleep, princess.”
She rolls over to face me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“Maksim.”
I look at the ceiling and know that not telling her isn’t an option.
“Some of the women are leaving,” I say. “The ones in my houses. They’re scared. Packing up and walking out.”
She’s quiet as she thinks. “How many?”
“Enough to matter.” I pause. “It’s not the number; it’s where they go. They don’t go home, Lila. They don’t go to a shelter or a new city. They go to someone else. Someone who doesn’t give a damn if they come home at the end of the night.”
She sighs. “Why are they leaving?”
She figures it out before I find the words.
“Because of me.”
“Because of the war,” I say. “Which started because of you. Those aren’t the same thing.”
“They feel the same.”
“They’re not.” I place my hand on her cheek. “You didn’t start this. Your father started it when he made a deal he couldn’t keep. I started it when I pulled you out of that club and decided not to give you back.”
"But the reason they're scared is because you're protecting me."
Lila is smart. She knows this is the safest place for her, and she wants to live.
“Will you be able to fix this?” she asks.
“Yes.” The word comes out before she finishes asking.
“How?”
“I’m handling it.” I glance at her. “I’m not trying to brush you off. I genuinely don’t want to walk you through it at midnight.”
“It’s bad.”
“Not great, but I’m handling it. Arlind wants them to see me as a man who’s losing. I need to show them that I’m not.”
“Are you?” she asks quietly. “Losing?”
I turn to look at her fully. There’s no cruelty in it. She genuinely wants to know.
“Not yet,” I say.
She tucks herself against my side, with her head on my chest, and her hand flat over my stomach. I reach down and push the hair from her face. She exhales slowly.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Stop apologizing. Did you see your surprise?”
She laughs. “I did. How did you know what I bought?”
“Receipts.”
Another laugh. “Thank you. I was so bummed about losing the boots and jacket. The rest was nice, but those boots were everything.”
“You spent all that time shopping; I wanted to make sure you got what you picked out.”
“Did you have to pay for it all again? I’m guessing that a Good Samaritan didn’t turn over bags of expensive clothes to mall security.”
“Actually, some of the bags were recovered. You had one hell of a shopping spree. I’m sorry it ended the way it did. I wanted you to have everything you spent time picking out. Mike told me you struggled in the beginning. You deserve all those things, Lila.”
“Thank you. I’d never been on a shopping spree. Is it weird that I didn’t know how to shop?”
“No. You’ll do it again soon.”
She groans. “I’m not sure I have that kind of energy.”
Mike had told me how worried she was about spending my money. I know her well enough to know she would hate the idea of all that money being wasted. Once the dust settled, I sent Mike back to the mall to try to get everything she picked out.
I needed to tell her one other detail. I didn’t know how she would take it, but she needed to know.
“The saleswoman called the Albanians,” I tell her bluntly.
She exhales again. “I had a feeling. She couldn’t stop staring at my ring.”
“I’m sorry. That ring is supposed to keep you safe, not make you a target."
“What’d you do to her?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying, but that’s fine. I don’t need the details. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Sleep. I'm hosting investors tomorrow night. I need you there."
“The party.”
“Yes.”
I wait for an argument that doesn’t come. Soon, I hear her steady breathing. She falls asleep much faster now. In my arms. Trusting me.