Chapter 4 Maxim
MAXIM
She isn’t shying away from me. That’s a start. She’s either very bold or incredibly stupid. Typically, in situations like these, the burst of confidence fades after a few minutes and the gravity of the situation sets in.
Then again, typical situations like this don’t involve my penthouse or curry at three in the morning.
If she were anyone else, she’d likely end up in one of our facilities having her teeth pulled out until we learned every detail about her life and then, if she wasn’t deemed a threat, we’d get enough dirt on her to destroy her life if she ever talked.
Instead, I had her brought back here because I remember her, and something about the genuine fear in her eyes cut through me a little. Innocents, true innocents who make up the majority of this city, are left unharmed when my orders are followed.
Orders often overruled by my strict, cold-hearted father. In truth, my home is currently the only place in the entire city where she’s safe and she doesn’t even know it.
Turning back to the sauce bubbling merrily in my pan, I stir slowly to ensure all pieces of chicken are evenly coated.
“People who walk into my business are one of two things—either nosy enough to play with their lives or they’re working for someone else who is happy to risk their life in order to get any kind of information on me. So, which is it?”
Glancing over my shoulder, Hollie has eased into one of the tall, high-backed chairs against my breakfast counter. “Why are you talking like that?”
My hand pauses. “Like what?”
“Like you’re some kind of spy or something.”
A brief grunt of humor escapes me. “Not a spy. But your life rides on your answer.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Deadly.”
Her face pales slightly and she brings both of her hands together, clasping at her knuckles. “I wasn’t doing anything. I don’t understand this at all. I just…” Her lower lip trembles. “I want to go home.”
“If you satisfy me, it might be possible.”
“Satisfy you?” A flicker of alarm crosses her eyes.
“With answers,” I add. Poor word choice. “Tell me what you were doing there.”
“I…”
Her brow creases and debate seems to rage inside her, so I turn back to the food and continue to cook until her small voice drifts through the air once more.
“My car broke down across the street and my phone died. I saw lights in the pizzeria, and it was the only place in the entire block with life, so I walked in hoping someone could lend me a phone for a mechanic or a charger. That’s it.
That’s all I was doing, I swear. And why are you interrogating me?
You murdered someone! I watched you! And I’m next, right? If I don’t play your little game?”
Her voice rises and rises until it starts to crack and she’s babbling breathlessly.
“I have people who will miss me, you know. People who will look, and they won’t stop looking, so unless you plan on wiping out my entire family line, you will let me go.
Because my parents know people. And my boss?
My God, you do not want to piss her off.
She’s like a hornet in a helicopter when she’s pissed and she will track me down and make your life a living hell if you do anything to me! ”
Listening to her patiently, I dish up the curry into two bowls and face her. Placing one down in front of her, I then lean back against the opposite counter and cross one leg over the other while I dig in. “It’s simple, Hollie. You don’t know what you saw.”
“Are you telling me that as some tricky way of telling me what to say if the cops come knocking?”
“No. You really don’t know what you saw.”
She gapes at me and pushes the bowl away. “There’s no way you’re telling me that poor man deserved everything you did to him? And why am I even trying to discuss morals with a cold-blooded killer and kidnapper!”
“Have you been harmed?”
“Yes.” She turns her bruised cheek toward me and I wince inwardly. “Did you forget what your brute of a friend did to me?”
“No. I hadn’t forgotten. I am sorry that happened. It wasn’t supposed to.”
Her hands return to being clasped tightly. “Oh, that makes it alright, then.”
With a trembling sigh, the telltale signs of her adrenaline-fueled confidence are fading. Her hands shake more visible, she’s constantly chewing on her lower lip, and rather than glaring at me, she’s scanning her surroundings for any way out. Not that she’ll get far if she does run.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes from its current home face down on the counter next to the stove.
“Hello?”
“Maxim!” My father’s voice barks in my ear and it takes all my strength not to wince at the volume. “Tell me what the fuck you are doing playing house with a witness?”
Stu. That bastard.
He’s always been a bit of a problem but constantly insists it comes from a place of concern to stop me from ending up on my father’s chopping block. I fail to see how his tattling on me to the Pakhan is saving my neck in any regard.
“We have a problem and I’m dealing with it.”
“You know exactly how to deal with it.” Dad’s almost clawing his way through the phone and burying in my mind. “So deal with it. Kill her and move on. I don’t have time for this.”
With a click, the call ends as abruptly as it started, and I bite back a sigh. Hollie’s watching me with large, saucer-like eyes and her hands have moved to hug the bowl for its warmth.
“Are you going to let me go now?”
Setting my phone down on the counter, I draw another phone from my pocket. This one is in a purple butterfly case and Hollie recognizes it immediately. Her hand flies to the small pocket on her skirt, then her brows lift in alarm.
“You stole my phone?”
“It took you this long to notice it wasn’t there anymore.”
“Give it back!”
I lazily scroll through the device as Hollie half rises in her seat and then thinks better of it. Her passcode was painfully easy to crack with Toto’s help.
“Your parents, Susan and Martin Wolfe, correct? Cute. You take a lot of family pictures. Warm. Wholesome.”
All attitude has faded from Hollie’s face, replaced by open fear. “Please…”
“Cute dog. Such an important part of the family and always such a tragedy when they pass. Although nothing compares to the loss of a parent now, does it?” Through her contacts and linked pictures, I scroll until her phone buzzes with a message.
“Tiffany says Happy Thanksgiving. She’s your boss, hmm? The hornet in the helicopter?”
Hollie nods weakly. “Mhm.”
“And all these other names? Steven. Charlie. Rebecca. Francis. Andre. Kirk. Quite the list.”
“Clients,” she chokes out. “Please. Please don’t hurt them.”
Our eyes meet. “You care that much about your clients? I suppose I also care about where my money comes from.”
“No, my family.” Tears bead in the corner of her eyes, striking me with the force of a punch in the chest. “Please don’t hurt my family.”
Lowering her phone, I walk toward her until only the counter exists between us. She seems so small huddled on the stool with fear glistening in her damp eyes, and her knuckles have turned white with how tightly she grips the bowl.
“I’m sensing there is a deal to be made here, Hollie.”
She nods rapidly. “Mhm.”
“What did you see tonight?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, so I tilt my head. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” she chokes out. “I saw nothing.”
“Really? Tell me what happened.”
“M–My car broke down and I–I couldn’t call anyone. My phone died and I…”
She’s wrestling with herself to get the words out, and I feel disgusting but I can’t pinpoint why. I’ve done this dance a thousand times before.
“I was alone and I didn’t know what to do.”
“Then, Hollie. Tell me.” Setting her phone down on the counter, I slowly slide it toward her without lifting my fingers. “How did we meet?”
Her eyes are like the biggest emeralds I’ve ever seen in my life. “Your car pulled over after seeing me parked and you offered me help?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“T–Telling you.”
“Good. I’m sure your parents will be happy that you weren’t alone, Hollie. But if I need to stop by and tell them myself, we might have a problem. Are we understood?”
She’s shaking so much it’s a wonder she’s even still on the stool. “I understand. I do. Please, I understand.”
“Good.” Straightening, I leave her phone next to her on the counter. “Now eat. I won’t have anyone thinking I’m a bad host.”
She stares at me as if I’ve just sprouted another head right in front of her.
“Please. Eat.”
Hollie snatches up the spoon and shovels food into her mouth before I can blink.
It’s good that she’s eating, but I can’t shake the guilt eating away at me.
Is our previous tryst a few months ago really a good enough reason to treat her differently from anyone else in this position?
She caught my eyes back then and while alcohol warmed and influenced both our decisions, I can’t deny that I was more than a little sad when we stumbled out of the cubicle and I lost her in the sea of clubgoers, never to be seen again.
Now she’s in my kitchen with tears clinging to her lashes while shoveling down curry like her life depends on it.
Maybe my wording did give that implication.
I return to my own meal and eat slowly, angled away from her so she doesn’t feel like I’m watching her even though I’m in tune to her every move.
Gradually, her eating pace slows and the worried wrinkle between her brows eases out as if she’s actually enjoying her meal. In my experience, anything like what happened tonight is enough to build up an appetite even if you’re stressed.
Just as I’m sweeping my spoon around the last of the sauce, a soft female voice carries through the apartment.
“Elevator in motion.”
Hollie straightens up, her eyes upward. “Who was that?”
“Think of it as an Alexa,” I say, setting my bowl in the sink. “Only way more advanced.”
“Wow,” she murmurs. “Like a smart kitchen?”
“Something like that.” I leave the kitchen and approach the hallway.
I’m not expecting any guests so unless it’s Stu coming to apologize, I’m not in the mood to face anyone either.
The demand for them to leave hovers on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t see the light of day as the elevator doors slide open and reveal my father, Igor.
He strides toward me at such a pace that his open coat trails behind him along with his white scarf.
The tassels flop back and forth with each powerful stride while a cotton turtleneck stretches across his broad chest. His hair, as black as mine, is slicked up and back to make his forehead appear squarer and the short beard hugging his jaw has been dyed so dark that it looks like someone colored his jaw with permanent marker.
His dress shoes slap on the floor as he closes in, flanked by two of his personal security, and as soon as he reaches the lounge, he speaks like the snap of a belt.
“Where is she?”
Hollie squeaks in fright, but it turns into a squeal when Dad’s left-hand guard pulls out his gun and aims it at her. The spoon clatters from her trembling fingers and she cowers, caught between sliding off the stool and not moving to try and prevent injury.
“Father—”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “I told you to take care of this and instead you’re…” He casts his eye over me and the kitchen in disgust. “You’re sharing a meal with her?”
I don’t reply, but I stride forward and position myself between the guard and her, locking eyes with him and daring him to pull the trigger.
“Maxim,” Dad barks. “We don’t have time for this. There are enough distractions and I am up to my neck clearing up other people’s messes. I do not need to handle yours either, understand?” He raises a hand, ready to signal the brutal and abrupt end to Hollie’s life, but I refuse to move.
An unfamiliar, weak surge of panic rises inside me, its cause unknown.
I barely know this woman. The fact that she’s hot is in no way reason enough for me to throw my life and reputation on the line to protect her, but something keeps me rooted to the ground, steadfast between her and certain demise.
“You can’t kill her,” I say in a voice that barely sounds like my own.
Igor’s fingers hover in the air. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do?”
“You can’t kill her because I’m going to marry her.”