Page 62 of Maksim

Is she a…?

It doesn’t matter. She’s a woman in this world. I know what she means.

“I won’t say anything,” I assure her before my own question strikes me. “What’s a lieutenant?”

She shakes her head, her lips pursed. “It’s just a ranking in the Bratva, and it means he did a lot of nasty shit to get here. If you don’t already know, trust me, you don’t want to. He’s…” She sighs. “I don’t know. Just be careful and don’t piss him off. I think you’ve figured that out by now.”

No. Not in the slightest.

“Right.”

What kind of nasty shit?

Do I really need to ask? Murder. It’s murder. I already knew he was capable of that.

Still, the chill in her voice has me peeking at my cup and taking a sip.

She squeals with delight and pats my shoulders. “Attagirl. Now come on, let’s get back before the boys wonder what’s taking so long.”

Maksim

I half listen to Zinovy rattle on about the state of his motorcycle he wrecked last night, pulling at his shirt to reveal road rash on his side.

My attention keeps drifting to the back door where Elira disappeared, and when she finally re-emerges onto the patio, I search for signs of distress. One arm is wrapped around her stomach while the other holds onto a Solo cup. She follows Cherish with her head down, looking uncomfortable but not terrified, so maybe that’s progress.

I prepare for her to ask me to take her home, but when she reaches the circle of lounge chairs where we’ve gathered, she perches on the end of mine and doesn’t say a word, instead glancing at Zinovy as if she’s politely listening to his story.

When I nudge her, she looks at me.

Are you okay, I mouth.

She doesn’t answer right away, but after a few moments she nods, and it’s like a valve is opened, releasing a breath caught in my lungs since we arrived.

I scoot over in the chair and pat the tiny space beside me, knowing she won’t fit. After chewing on her lip in contemplation, she crawls up the chair to flatten against me, half her body lying on mine.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders but don’t smile, don’t even look at her. Her body is tense, and so is mine, like we’re in agreement that this was a stupid idea. Any minute I think she’ll move back down to the edge of the chair, but she stays rigid in place, probably too afraid of embarrassing me to move.

Minutes go by like this. Minutes that feel like hours.

I could get up to go to the bathroom. I could put an end to this misery for both of us.

“Do you have the highest ranking here?”

I tense, startled at Elira’s voice, and finally look at her. She peers at me with soft eyes I hardly recognize on her, eyes that massage my muscles, relaxing me in the chair. The discomfort is still there, but her question brings enough relief that I’d answer anything she asked right now.

“Yes,” I say, although I’m unsure where her question came from.

She looks around. “Then why is your home so much smaller?”

An unexpected laugh rumbles up my chest, and I just barely quiet it to keep the attention off us.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” she says, her shoulders caving.

I shake my head. “It’s fine… I chose a smaller home because I didn’t want to spoil Anya. Her mother dreamed of her living a normal, boring, American childhood, and I tried to make that a reality. I failed, but I tried.”

Her nose wrinkles in the cutest way. “I don’t think you failed. How could you have failed what you haven’t finished?”

I shrug, relaxing more into the chair. Her body doesn’t feel so stiff anymore. It molds to mine, and without thinking, I tug her closer without her seeming to notice.

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