Chapter 30 Maxim
MAXIM
“Higher… a little higher… almost… perfect!” Susan claps her hands together and cheers softly. “Oh, it looks so good there, don’t you think, Martin?”
Bernard grunts from behind the Christmas tree where he’s been trying to find the source of a fault with the Christmas lights for the past twenty minutes.
My shoulders ache, but it’s worth it. The last of the streamers now dangle from the ceiling, the party table is set up and straining with food, the record player is set up with classical Christmas songs at Martin’s request, and all that’s left to do is add a dusting of fake snow to all the table decorations and ornaments set up around the home.
Hollie wasn’t kidding when she said her parents went overboard.
The first guests start to arrive, so I retire to the kitchen where Toto’s up to his elbows in potato peels.
“Help me,” he groans. “My fingers are going to wrinkle off!”
I take over and nudge him with my shoulder. “Go. Take a break. Rex is around somewhere. He might still be out back finishing the snow maze for the kids.”
“I’m trading vegetable water for the cold?” Toto wrinkles his nose but grabs his coat from the hanger near the back door and vanishes out into the garden.
He approaches Rex stealthily and then announces himself so loudly that Rex jumps out of his skin and falls flat onto the portion of the maze he was working on. A fight ensues and I chuckle to myself, peeling the last of the potatoes while Rex and Toto cover themselves in snow.
“I know who you are.” Martin’s voice rises up from behind me and I flinch. He approached so quietly, I had no idea he was there. Glancing over my shoulder, I smile politely.
“It’s me. Maxim. It’s not that dark in here, is it?”
“Not that.” Martin leans back against the kitchen table and crosses his arms over his chest. “Did you really think a career criminal like you could marry a chief’s daughter and I wouldn’t find out?”
My hands pause in the water. Potato peel floats past, following the lingering ripples from my last movements.
There was always a chance, a slight risk that Martin would be suspicious enough to do some digging.
But even if he puts Hollie on trial, she can’t say a thing about me, although now I don’t think she'll say anything, anyway. From a woman who saw me as nothing but a cold-blooded killer at Thanksgiving, a week before Christmas and she’s warmed to me.
I turn away from the sink, the peeler clutched in one hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Is that what he trains you to say? I knew as soon as it was difficult to see Hollie’s marriage certificate that there was something off about you. She never told me your last name, but when you were here helping me in the garden? I saw some of your tattoos.”
Suddenly, my long-sleeved shirt doesn’t feel as secure as it once did.
“There aren’t many who are inked up to the degree you are. And even less with the last name Krasnov.”
“I bet there’s more than you think,” I reply carefully.
“Don’t bullshit me, Son. Your father is Igor Krasnov. It might have taken me this long to work it out, but I promise you, I won’t be forgetting it.”
Tension thickens in the air. Is he telling me this because he’s called his buddies and I’m seconds away from being arrested on some bullshit charge? Or is this something else? Bringing this up at a Christmas party, of all places, is one hell of a choice.
“I don’t know my father.” An easy lie.
“I said don’t bullshit me,” Martin snaps. “I know who you are. You come into my home, you share dinner with my wife, you marry my daughter. Don’t stand there and treat me like I’m stupid.”
He has a point. My breath hitches, and I’m acutely aware that if Rex were to walk in right now, things could go south. He’s overly protective, but Martin isn’t a threat. Not physically, at least.
“So, what is this?” I ask slowly. “You know who I am. You bring it up now? Are you expecting me to cause a scene at your party? If you think this looks bad for me, then think how it also looks to others. You, a retired police chief marrying his daughter into the Mafia. Some might question if your loyalties were always with us.”
“Is that a threat?” Martin’s bushy brows knit together.
“No. I’m pointing out that this can look like either thing.”
He remains silent for a long minute, then his hands tighten around his elbows. “Is she in trouble?”
His question catches me off guard and for a second, my mind is blank. His concern is his daughter and I didn’t see it immediately. Everywhere I look, there’s a threat or someone eager to take me down, but Martin isn’t one of them. Not anymore.
“Hollie,” Martin repeats. “Is she in trouble?”
A lie would be easiest here. I could spin the tale that we met and fell in love so quickly, echoing the lie she told her parents back when we first met but that lie is only enough to satisfy her mother. Martin isn’t going to let this go, and I get the impression he’s more understanding.
“Our marriage saved her life,” I say carefully. “She’s not in trouble anymore.”
Martin’s eyes narrow. “Why would you do that? I know how marriage works for you lot. It’s human trafficking and you can’t tell me otherwise.
Marrying people for business deals… how did this happen?
” His mouth twists to the side. “She’s a musician.
She’s floaty and reckless, but how did she end up on your radar? ”
“She saw something that put her in danger and I saved her.”
Martin leans away from the table. “Why?”
The complicated truth swirls in my chest like a fog, but before I can answer, Susan bustles into the kitchen.
“Martin! Stop hiding in here and go and greet our guests! The Robinsons are here, and I am not equipped to listen to Terry’s debate about the ethical consumption of fish. That’s your job.” She pauses between us, glancing at each of us in turn. “Is everything alright?”
I meet Martin’s gaze, remaining silent and waiting for him to make the choice here. Does he continue the lie or does he tell her the truth?
There’s a long few seconds of silence, then Martin grunts. “It’s fine. I was telling him to hurry it along or they won’t be roasted in time.” Clearing his throat, he vanishes from the kitchen while Susan pats my arm.
“Ignore him.” She chuckles. “Honestly, we’ve cooked so much today that we’re well over the potato quota!” She chuckles to herself, takes a bottle of wine from the fridge, and vanishes back to the party.
By the time I finish with the potatoes, Rex and Toto have finished the maze in time for a gaggle of children to head outside, and then Hollie arrives. I’m coming out of the bathroom when we bump into each other in the hallway, and I’m unable to keep the smile from my face.
She’s scraped her red hair back into a ponytail and changed from her gorgeous dress into jeans and her Christmas sweater, but as our eyes meet, something cold grips my heart.
Something’s wrong.
The excited light she had in her eyes when she left me in the car has truly been extinguished. She presses her lips together and struggles to meet my eye, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, gripping them tightly.
“Hollie?”
“Maxim…” There’s a note of relief in her tone, but when I reach for her, she pulls her arm away.
Something happened. “Hollie, what’s wrong?”
“I thought I–I was going to be late. Too late. I can’t, uhm…
” She shakes her head and finally meets my eyes.
They hold such sorrow that it takes all my restraint not to drag her back into the bathroom with me.
Just as well because as I reach for her again, Susan comes through the hallway and squeals.
“Hollie! You came!” She throws her arms around her daughter and pulls her into a tight hug. Past her, I catch Stu’s eyes and he jerks his head slightly to the side, then melts into the crowd forming in the hallway to greet Hollie.
She’s swept away to greet family and friends in the lounge, surrounded by happy people and the occasional request for her to play something for everyone. Her smile, while bright, is clearly forced and uncertainty ticks through my heart.
Was her gig really that bad?
I linger for a few minutes until I can slip away, meeting Stu outside in the back garden where he stands with Toto and Rex who watch over the screaming, laughing children while they hunt the makeshift snow maze for the chocolate hidden under the snow.
I don’t even need to speak. As soon as our eyes meet, Stu launches into a hurried explanation.
“She didn’t tell me everything, but she was cornered after the party by the host.”
“Why weren’t you with her?” I cut in, unable to help myself.
“We got separated. She acted like it was normal, and I thought it was a regular party, but it wasn’t.
I was kept in the foyer and she told me to listen to her playing, so I did.
But after it stopped, she never came back so I went looking.
I found her in the hallway, and she begged me to take her home.
She was flushed, crying, and worked up into a panic.
She’d lost her violin. I knew we were outnumbered no matter what happened, so I got her out of there. ”
“Fuck.” Whoever he is, wherever he is, I’ll make him pay. I don’t care if he just insulted her music. He won’t get away with this.
“That’s not all,” Stu says, and he steps closer. “I did some digging while she was changing. Mr. Havershire doesn’t exist.”
My heart stalls in my chest. “What?”
“I dug through the sale history of that house and Mr. Havershire wasn’t on the list. In fact, the building is unlisted and hasn’t had an owner in over ten years.”