10. Alexei
ALEXEI
Maggie doesn’t answer on the first ring. That alone is enough to make every instinct in me rise to the surface.
I stand beside the rear window of my office, looking down at the dark ribbon of road while the phone rings again. The call connects on the fourth ring, but for half a breath, Maggie doesn’t say anything.
“Maggie.”
“I’m here.” Her voice is uneven, as if she’s been crying or trying very hard not to.
My hand closes around the phone. “What happened?”
A small sound comes through the line. Not quite a laugh. Not relief either. “You really know how to make a girl feel calm.”
The sarcasm is there, but it doesn’t reach her voice. I know Maggie well enough now to hear the strain beneath her words. She’s trying to hide it. She always does. Usually, I have to push her before she admits something is wrong.
“I know I’m late,” I say, forcing my voice to remain even because she doesn’t need my temper. “Unexpected business came up.”
“You really need a less suspicious way of describin’ your evenings.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Her breathing changes, and I can picture her rolling her eyes. I know that look. Maggie has spent weeks directing it at me, usually just moments before completely ignoring my instructions.
“I already spoke with Ivy,” I tell her. “She informed me that Winston is still a criminal.”
Maggie lets out a small laugh. “That sounds about right.”
“I also have news for you,” I tell her.
“Should I be worried?”
“No.” I allow myself a small smile. “Black Tide recently completed a shipping contract for a local development group. During negotiations, I mentioned your shelter.”
Silence greets me. Then, “Alexei.”
“You wouldn’t accept money from me directly.”
“You know I wouldn't.”
“I’m aware.”
I hear the smile in her voice now. “Go on.”
“The owner visited the shelter website this afternoon. He and his wife lost a dog several years ago. They have agreed to make a substantial donation and adopt a dog.”
The line goes completely quiet.
“Maggie?”
“You're serious?”
“Yes.”
“Alexei...I don’t know what to say,” she breathes.
“I only made an introduction. The decision was theirs.”
She’s quiet for a second. “You really listen when I talk, don't you?”
The question surprises me. “You wouldn’t take money from me, so I found another solution.”
“Thank you.”
I hear the smile beneath her words. I allow myself to enjoy it before another call flashes across the screen from Roman.
“I need to take another call,” I tell her.
“More unexpected business?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It usually is.”
Her breathing stops for a fraction of time. “Be careful.”
I stare out at the city spread beneath the window. “Always.”
“You and I both know that's not true.”
No, it’s not. Careful implies I can step around violence. I can’t. I can only meet it first, before it reaches the people under my protection.
“I’ll be home soon,” I assure her.
“Okay.”
“Don’t wait up if you’re tired.”
She huffs a small laugh. “You got me figured out.”
The call ends, and the warmth of her voice disappears from the room.
I switch to Roman before the phone can ring a third time. “I’m here.”
“Isabella Moretti.”
The name means nothing to me. I move to the desk and pick up the report Roman sent earlier, scanning the pages covered in shell companies, wire transfers, and names buried behind names. Then I pick up the photo of the older woman with the dark hair streaked with silver sitting next to Enzo.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“That’s the question.”
“You called me with a name but no answer?”
“I called you with the first clean name tied to the money that moved through Enzo’s people before the attack at the shelter.”
I go completely still. “Connected to Enzo?”
“Yes. Not directly enough to prove beyond doubt, but enough for me.”
“What do we know?”
“Old money. New York. Private holdings. A few charitable boards. No criminal record. No public connection to the Italians beyond business routed through people who were never supposed to be found.”
“Family?”
“Still digging.”
“I need more.”
Roman breathes out through his nose. “This woman is buried deep, brat. Whoever she is, she has money, patience, and help.”
The three things I hate most in an enemy.
On the desk, Maggie’s name appears in one of Luka’s security reports, printed beside notes about altered routes, guard rotations, shelter cameras, and new locks. My house. Her shelter. Ivy’s dance studio. The diner. Every place that should feel ordinary has become part of a war map.
“Does she connect to Clara?” I ask.
The silence tells me everything I need to know. Then, “Not yet.”
“Not yet is not no,” I say.
“No,” Roman agrees. “It’s not.”
I close my eyes. Clara’s face comes to me the way it always does when I’m not prepared. Blood on her dress. A wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. There are nights I still hear the gunfire. And still hear the silence afterward.
I open my eyes. I don’t have the luxury of dwelling on the past. “We need to find the connection.”
“We will,” he insists. “No one stays hidden forever.”
“If this woman goes near my daughter, I want to know before she breathes in Ivy’s direction.”
Roman’s voice hardens. “You’ll know.”
“And Enzo?” I press.
“Still missing.”
I look down at the report in my hand. “He didn't disappear on his own.”
“No,” Roman agrees. “Someone moved him. The question is whether they were protecting him or silencing him.”
Neither possibility sits well with me.
“You should go home,” Roman says.
“I will.”
“Maggie is there?”
“Yes,” I reply. “She’s there.”
“Then go home,” he tells me. “Za semyu.” For the family.
“Za semyu.” I repeat.
The call ends, and Isabella Moretti’s name is burned into the front of my mind.
By the time I reach the mansion, most of the house has already gone to bed. Security meets me at the front entrance with a brief report. No movement near the gate. No unknown vehicles. No issues inside the house. The report should reassure me, but it doesn’t.
Mrs. Bennett appears near the foyer, her gray hair pinned neatly. “Miss Ivy’s asleep.”
“And Maggie?”
“In Miss Ivy’s room.” Her eyes warm. “She went in to read and never came back out.”
I climb the stairs without another word.
The hallway outside Ivy’s room is dim, lit by the low sconces along the wall.
I open the door slowly. Daisy lifts her head from the rug, then lowers it when she sees me.
Winston is sprawled across the foot of the bed like a guard dog ten sizes too small for the job.
Ivy sleeps beneath a pale pink blanket, one hand resting near her cheek. Maggie lies asleep beside her, her hair loose across the pillow. She’s placed herself between Ivy and the rest of the room.
I remain where I am, simply looking at them. Somewhere along the way, this became everything. A life I never planned for, filling the room in front of me.
I move closer and crouch beside the bed. Maggie's lashes rest against her cheeks, but even asleep, she looks exhausted. The last few weeks have taken a visible toll.
I touch her shoulder with care. “Maggie.”
She stirs but doesn’t wake.
“Maggie,” I say again, lower this time.
Her eyes open, unfocused at first, then find me in the low light. She draws in a breath like she’s forgotten where she is.
“Alexei?” She blinks, then looks toward Ivy. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She starts to sit up quickly, but I place a hand on her arm to slow her.
“Come to bed.”
She studies my face, searching for something. I know then that whatever upset her earlier has not gone away. It’s been waiting for me.
“We should talk,” she whispers.
I nod once and help her rise without waking Ivy. Winston watches us with suspicious little eyes as Daisy remains beside the bed. I guide Maggie into the hallway and close the door behind us, leaving my daughter asleep beneath the protection of two dogs and every guard I own.
Maggie stands in the hallway wearing the look of a woman carrying news that can change a man’s life. I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it. I lead Maggie toward the guest suite, but as soon as we step inside, she slips her hand from mine.
Something’s wrong. It’s the look on her face that concerns me. She looks shaken.
She wraps both arms around herself and walks toward the window overlooking the back gardens. She stands there for several seconds staring out into the darkness.
I close the door quietly behind us and loosen my tie, watching her carefully. “Maggie.”
She releases a long breath. “I had this whole speech planned.”
I stay where I am, giving her the space she clearly needs. “Then give it.”
She drags a hand through her hair and shakes her head. “That's the problem. I can't remember any of it now.”
I wait. She finally turns around, and the sight of tears shining in her eyes sends a surge of alarm through me.
“What happened?” I ask.
Her face crumples. She presses both hands over her mouth for a moment before lowering them again. “I'm sorry. I just...” She laughs shakily. “Lord knows this is not how I wanted to do this.”
Something dark and protective unfurls inside me. I cross the room slowly.
“What happened?” I ask again.
She shakes her head at once. “Nothing bad.”
I don’t believe her. “Maggie.”
She lowers her eyes to the floor between us, twisting her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles pale.
“I took one of the pregnancy tests Jules bought me.”
At first, I don’t understand. Then I do. Silence fills the room.
Maggie lifts her head, searching my face, and whatever she sees there makes her take a step backward.
“Oh God,” she panics. “You're upset.”
I close the distance between us in two strides. “No.”
“You went completely still.”
I lift both hands to her face, gently forcing her to look at me. “Look at me.”
She does.
“I’m not upset.”
“Then why aren't you saying anything?”
Because I can’t breathe. Because four years ago, I watched my wife die in front of me. Because every person I’ve ever loved has paid a price for loving me in return, and now Magnolia Hayes is standing in front of me carrying my child.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask.