Chapter 21 #2
The best part wasn't discovering basic, useless things about him, like the fact that he hates beets and doesn't care for sweets. No. The best part was when Ivan emerged from the tree line with a lazy gait and lay down at our feet.
“He's like a huge, deadly dog,” I comment as I watch Maksim drag his feet through Ivan's thick fur.
“Ivan has his moments.” He doesn't look at me when he responds. “But he deserves it, after the start he had in life.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father shot Ivan's mother when he was just a cub.”
I gasp and wait for the explanation that follows. In a low voice, as if he doesn't want the bear to hear and get upset, he tells me how he got the scar and how he stood up to his father, which led to him caring for a bear cub.
“Your father was an asshole,” I say without thinking.
“That's an understatement,” he responds with a dry, uncomfortable laugh.
“Boris could beat my mother and cater to her every wish on the same day. Even after she died, he honored every wish she had for my upbringing. He waited until I was fourteen to start my training, but on the first day, he gave me this.”
Maksim's voice holds no pain or anguish—only rage. Even dead, his father still manages to get under his skin, and I can see how much my husband hates that.
“Good thing you killed him.” The words come out unfiltered, but I don't regret them—it's how I feel right now.
Maksim lifts his gaze to me and studies me for a long moment.
I know he's trying to piece together who I am.
The woman who was sold by her parents and begged him not to kill them, yet celebrates the death of her monstrous father-in-law.
I don't really know who I am either, but I know I like who I am here, with him, with these people.
After a moment, he gives me a small smile and says quietly:
“It was Ivan who killed him.”
“What? How?” I ask, incredulous.
“It was a personal score to settle between them.”
I don't ask for more details. I'm not sure I want the image of what happened burned into my mind.
“I'm sure it was deserved.”
The silence that follows is comfortable. Maksim seems satisfied with my response, and I'm even more satisfied knowing I didn't say it to impress him—it was just the truth.
“Is that why you wear the mask? Because of the scar he gave you?”
“At first, yes. I hated the pitying looks people gave me whenever they saw the cruelty the Pakhan had inflicted on his own son, so I started wearing it on operations. It was practical—no face to identify.” He shrugs.
“When I took my father's place, I kept wearing it. And the rumors started spreading on their own. A new Pakhan had taken over, a man without a face.” A humorless half-smile. “I let it happen. It was useful.”
“Useful how?”
“When the enemy doesn't have a face to aim at, he doesn't know where to shoot.”
It makes sense in a cold, absolute way that's so typical of him. The mask was never just for show—it always had a purpose. First, to hide from the pity he didn't want, then it became the symbol he needed to rise to power. He doesn't say much more, and I leave it at that.
When Maksim stops petting Ivan, the bear lets out a loud, disgruntled growl, making me laugh softly. He really is a dog in bear form. At that moment, Igor and Yelena round the hedge corner from the garden, jogging at a steady pace. As they pass by, Yelena just smiles while Igor huffs and grumbles.
“Be careful with him, Anya. When you least expect it, he'll want to bite you.”
I know his suspicious look is aimed at Ivan sleeping at my feet, but I can't resist the joke. I reach over toward Maksim and stroke his hair.
“But he's been so well-behaved.”
Yelena laughs so loud that the sound echoing across the courtyard disturbs Ivan, who flicks his ears and shifts position. Igor joins her, and when they're far enough away, he shouts back.
“I like her, Malysh. She's going to give you trouble.”
He doesn't wait for Maksim's response, which is so low and mumbled I can't make it out, and just disappears with Yelena along their running route. I'm still laughing and looking at where they vanished when Maksim takes my hand from his hair and brings it to his mouth.
“This is going to come back to you, Solnyshko.”
His penetrating gray gaze sends shivers up my spine. Maksim kisses my palm lightly, then bites it—just hard enough to be provocative and seductive.
“Oh, I hope so.”
I meet his gaze, my eyes full of promise and desire. This growing tension between us is becoming unbearable. So thick and heavy that I almost opened my mouth to beg for it. I'm going to throw pride out the window and tell him how much I want him. Enough of this endless back and forth.
“Maks…”
Ivan stands up suddenly, startling me. I instinctively recoil, but Maksim doesn't let go of my hand, gripping my wrist firmly and signaling me to stay quiet. The bear growls at the trees in the woods and marches off toward them without looking back.
“He's getting irritable with the end of autumn. He'll hibernate soon.”
I nod silently, and when he offers me his hand to lead me inside, I take it. Walking away from the cold, I think of Yelena and decide Maksim is the best person to answer my questions.
“Yelena and Yuri,” I say.
“What about them?”
“Are they a couple or something?”
“No.”
I glance at him sideways, trying to catch any nuance in his expression.
“Were they ever?” I press.
Maksim looks over at me, holding the kitchen door open as we pass through. In the warmth of the house, heading toward my favorite reading room, I notice he's looking at me differently. My husband is trying to figure out if I picked this up out of thin air or if someone told me.
“Yuri was about thirteen when Yelena moved here.”
“After her father died,” I guess, and from Maksim's raised eyebrow, I'm right. He's surprised I know.
“That's right. She was seventeen.” His smile widens slightly. “He was smitten for a while, but he was always quiet, so almost no one noticed.”
“Did she know?”
“She never did. And it passed after he found out she was dating some boyevik or other. It was short-lived.”
“So you knew.”
“Yes. Olga too, and I think Igor and Vladimir suspected.”
“And no one ever said anything.”
“We're all siblings, Anya. We grew up together, even with the age differences between us. It never would have worked. Saying something would only have ruined everything.”
I understand what he's saying, and I agree. A teenage fling would only have brought drama and complications to a family dynamic that works so well. But something nags at me—a question that makes all the difference.
“You were waiting to see, weren't you? If it would turn into something more.”
Maksim looks at me with his hand on the doorknob, holding the door open for me.
“I was.”
And that's when I understand who this man becomes when he cares about someone. Maksim doesn't act in the moment. He's not the type to force things or invade someone's space. He just waits and observes. Lets everything happen in its own time, watching from afar.
Patient to the bone.
I remember my first night here. The masked man in the black car who, even after buying me, gave me days. No. He gave me weeks to adjust.
My heart warms again.
Maksim is trying to be better for me by leaning into his greatest strength: patience. I just don't know how to tell him I'm tired of it.
As soon as I step through the door, I look back when I notice he hasn't followed me. He's still standing there, looking at his phone with his jaw clenched and a serious expression.
“You can go,” I say before he has to. I don't want him to feel bad about cutting short the day he'd planned to spend with me.
“It's urgent. I can't put it off.”
“It's okay, really.”
I don't want him to go, but I can't keep him here either, even if that's what I want most. As if hearing my thoughts, Maksim comes toward me, closing the distance between us in just three steps.
His large hands frame my face, and then he tilts my head just enough so our mouths meet when he leans down. Not a hungry, furious kiss like before. This one is slower, gentle and careful.
His mouth moves against mine without any rush, as if we had all day, as if he were memorizing every curve, every taste. His thumbs caress my cheeks, and I let out a long sigh when he pulls away.
“I'll be back early today.”
The words sound like a promise, and I feel a little ridiculous for being breathless and anxious.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Maksim rests his forehead against mine for a second, then leaves. I'm left standing in my favorite room in the house that's become mine, wearing a bracelet that belonged to his mother and still tasting him.
No more fighting.
I hope night comes soon.