Page 68 of Twisted Vows

“In the study,” Gianna replies. “He’s been on the phone with André and Franco, trying to figure out who orchestrated the attack.”

Maxsim nods curtly. “Take Ari to my suite. I’ll join you later.”

Gianna nods, but I grab my husband’s arm before he can leave. “Max,” I say, my voice soft. He glances down at me, his brow furrowing. “Thank you.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, he looks like he might say something. But then he nods and disappears down the hall.

Gianna leads me toward the stairs, her voice calm but reassuring. “You’re safe here,” she says, though I can sense the tension in her tone.

As we climb the staircase, flashes of the ambush replay in my mind—the screech of tires, the crack of gunfire, the chaos and fear.

Someone is trying to break us.

The thought hardens me. I stop on the landing, turning to Gianna. “Tell me everything you know about the families,” I say firmly. “The alliances, the cracks. Everything.”

She raises a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Planning to step into Maxsim’s world, are we?”

“Not planning,” I say, my voice steady. “Already there.”

Her smile widens, a glint of pride in her gaze. “Good. Carolina’s been keeping me updated since I stepped back from the day-to-day. Let’s start with Salvatore Santoro.”

As she begins to speak, I absorb every word, every detail.

The time for standing on the sidelines is over. It’s time to play the game.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Maxsim

The silence in Alexy’s study lingers like smoke long after the fire’s been put out.

We’ve been picking apart every piece of the ambush, dissecting every clue like surgeons carving into a corpse.

“Someone on the inside made this possible,” Alexey says, his tone cold, his eyes drilling into me as if I should already have an answer. “And if you don’t root them out, Max, this won’t be the last time.”

He’s right. I know it. The ambush wasn’t random. It was planned down to the last detail. And whoever did it knew enough about my movements to predict when and where to strike. If the enemy is inside the walls, then Ari isn’t just in danger—she’s standing directly in the crosshairs.

The thought makes my chest tighten. “Let’s reconvene when Grigory’s intel is ready.” I shove the heavy door open and try to fill my lungs with air. My tie feels too tight, so I yank it loose, letting the fabric dangle around my neck.

My head is a storm of fury, suspicion, and something sharper—fear. I’ve lived my life surrounded by enemies, but this? This is worse. It’s betrayal.

Moments later, I step into the sitting room attached to our suite and stop short. Ari’s perched on the edge of a chair, her phone in one hand while the other idly brushes against her knee.The lamp beside her casts a soft light over her, highlighting the dark waves of her hair and the determined set of her jaw.

She doesn’t see me at first, her brow furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. Whatever she’s reading has her full attention.

For a moment, I just watch her.

The Ari I married—headstrong, defiant, quick to anger—is still there, but I see more now. She’s sharper than I gave her credit for, more adaptable.

Her gaze lifts, catching me in the doorway, and her expression softens just enough to make my chest tighten. “Done playing chess with the brothers?”

Her tone is teasing, but I can hear the question behind the words. What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me? I force a smirk, stepping into the room. “For now.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “You look… broody.”

I move closer, leaning on the back of the chair across from her. “And you look too calm.”

Her lips twitch. “I’m thinking. Strategizing.”

---