Page 76 of Maxim

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Two hours later I’ve lost the will to live. Stockton bent my ear for thirty minutes, boasting about how many animals he shot on a recent hunting trip while I gritted my teeth and tried to show some interest.

Eventually, he paused to suck in a breath and I was able to make my excuses and leave.

The conversation around my end of the table has been interminable. The older woman on my left sniffs dramatically each time I so much as glance in her direction, and the younger woman on my right has done nothing but stare at the table like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Sasha switched the place cards around so he could sit next to Cecelia. He’s been regaling her with anecdotes all evening. Cecelia is smitten. She soaks up male attention like a desert flower after a rain shower.

Stockton is oblivious. He’s far too busy watching one of the waitresses as she maneuvers carefully around the table, collecting used dinnerware and cutlery.

The girl can’t be more than 18 and I frown. He and the mayor have a lot in common, it seems, and I’m beginning to wonder if they are more closely acquainted than I realized.

Sasha follows my gaze and sees why I’m scowling. His dark eyes pass over the young woman sat next to me and pause for a moment. There’s a flicker of interest then he nods at me and stands, making some excuse to Cecelia about needing to take a comfort break.

Stockton’s security system is state of the art, but Sasha has already inserted a back door so he can disable the camera in Stockton’s study. In his pocket, he carries a small USB device. Once it’s inserted into any computers Sasha finds in Stockton’s office, it will release a code that lets Sasha access the operating system remotely once we have departed.

Whatever Sasha finds will come in useful. Whether for blackmail purposes or to ensure Stockton is not planning to double-cross me.

A tall guy with tattoos peeking out from his tailored shirt strolls down the length of the table as more servers appear with pots of steaming coffee and small almond biscuits. He pauses behind the young woman and grips her shoulder.

“Zaria,” he hisses in a low voice. “Try to look as if you’re enjoying yourself.”

The name snags in my brain. What is Zoltan’s daughter called? Zella? Zola?

Her hand reaches out for the glass of water next to her untouched dessert. The guy leans forward and says something I don’t catch. Her hand jerks, knocking the glass sideways. Water soaks into the cloth, some of it splashing into my lap.

Great. Now I look like I’ve pissed myself. Could this evening get any worse?

“For fuck’s sake, Zaria,” the guy snarls, stealing a sideways look at me as I mop up the water ineffectually. Then he freezes when he sees my face.

“Maxim Petrov?”

My gaze snaps up. This guy is no businessman. He looks more like a part of my world, but I don’t recognize him.

“Do we know each other?” My voice is hard. I dislike being caught on the hop and Sasha’s not here to smooth the way with his charm.

“Vlad Milosovic. You know of my father, Zoltan. He and your father were acquainted before….”

Oh fuck. If this is Zoltan’s son, then she must be… my wife-to-be.

Chapter fifty-four

Max

Sasha seems distracted. He’s barely said a word since we made our excuses and left. Vlad disappeared after filling me in on his father and the shit he’s dealing with. Gotta say, the guy is nothing like Zoltan. Which is a good thing. The old man is lucky his son has held things together while he’s been inside.

Not that Zolton is in a position to step back into the driving seat now he’s back. The fucker has cancer, apparently, and it’s taking him down fast. It’s no wonder he dragged his sorry ass to the gala the other night. He probably figured it would be the last chance he had to see me in person.

Boo hoo.

Forgive me for not showing an ounce of sympathy for that old bastard. Like my father was, he’s old school. Which was why he ended up in prison. The idiot thought it was a good idea to keep ledgers of his cash flow. Actual ledgers. Stuffed in a desk drawer.

Jesus.

“Vlad’s dealing with a ton of shit,” I remark. Sasha barely reacted when I mentioned Vlad was at the party, or when I told him Zoltan was at death’s door, waiting for an invite down to Hell.

“I told Vlad I’m not marrying his sister,” I continue.

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