Page 13 of Maximus

It was probably for the best because long tearful goodbyes aren’t my style and as I take a shower, I hate that I’m wishing she was here now.

A loud, “Max!” alerts me to the fact Cassius is here and as I enter the living area, he laughs softly. “Man, you look fucked. Did you empty the bottle and drown your sorrows?”

“If I did, would you blame me?” I bite back irritably, and his sympathetic shrug does little to make me feel any better.

“How long?” I really don’t want to know but am resigned to my fate, and he glances at his wristwatch. “Three hours. We should be heading back.”

On cue, the distinct hum of the chopper on the roof reminds me my father is about to get his wish and Cassius sighs.

“It will be fine. You can always escape to this penthouse. Get today over with, knock her up tonight and carry on as before, leaving her to play the mistress of the house in your absence. She knows what she’s signed up for.”

“It doesn’t make this any easier, Cass.” I groan and rake my fingers through my hair, reminding me of somebody else doing it a few short hours ago.

“You could always say no.” He raises his eyes and I fix him with a hard glare as he laughs out loud. “I guess it would be suicide. Anyway, she may be a nice surprise.”

He reminds me I have yet to meet my bride and I think back on the photograph I have of her. Dark hair in braids with glasses and braces, wearing a flowery monstrosity of a dress and looking as if she is missing a backbone.

“I doubt it.”

A deep sigh is my cue to leave, and I jerk my head to the rooftop terrace. “It’s time to fly and with any luck I’ll be back here before the ink dries on our contract.”

It takesthirty minutes to reach the sprawling estate my family owns and as we land in the grounds, I relish the short walk to the house. This is my wedding day, but it may as well be my funeral because I’m not the marrying kind and being in a forced one isn’t sitting well with me.

Toby, my consigliere, is waiting for me with a pitying smile. “Good night?”

“The best.” I cast my mind back to it and a small smile replaces the scowl. “Surprising but good.”

He falls into step beside me and my brother and says in a low voice. “Miranda Cascade.”

I briefed him on her last night and he whispers, “Is working with the concierge.”

My blood boils because the concierge is not, as his name suggests. It’s a cover name for Milton Weston, a low life crookwith eyes on the big time. Miranda loves to live dangerously and will be attracted to his crude operation and he will use her to get intel on the men higher up the food chain than him. It makes me wonder if my father knows something I don’t, which is why he’s strengthening our ties with a rival family. It’s always business with him, it always has been, and as I prepare to face him, I wonder what wise words will spill from his thick lips.

We head inside his den,noting his consigliere Markus by his side and as we take up our usual positions, he wastes no words.

“There is a contract out on the concierge. When you marry Miss Sorconi today, he will be discovered hanging from his closet. His lover Miranda Cascade will be found beside him, having been strangled to death and it will be classed as homicide and subsequent suicide after a lover’s tiff.”

“And his operation. Will there be repercussions?” I’m not shocked at what I’ve heard. It’s business and one I’m well educated in.

Markus adds, “His operation will be dismantled in one coordinated take down and merged with the two newly wedded families’ subsequent businesses.”

My father stares at me with a considered expression and says with no emotion. “Your duty is to fill your bride with children and make certain she has no cause to regret her decision. What you do in your spare time is your concern and none of her business.”

His meaning is clear and I’m aware he has adopted the same policy for his entire married life. I am to become my father, whether I like it or not, and trapped in a soulless marriage for business purposes. I’ll resort to getting my kicks with whoresand loose women to satisfy the darker side of my soul and my heart sinks as I experience a flashback to last night and a moment when I felt pure emotion.

It has shaken me and I hate how desolate I am that I never got to kiss my mysterious woman goodbye. It was a bittersweet ending to a bittersweet experience and I already know I will be chasing that high for the rest of my life and I doubt it will be with my wife.

My fate is sealedand as we head to the church, my heart is heavy. All around me are men, women and children, all congratulating me on my impending marriage. I play the dutiful bridegroom as I kiss the cheeks of the women in the crowd and shake their partner’s hands. I laugh with my friends and prepare to be dazzled by my bride, knowing that every last person here knows this wedding is a sham.

My future father-in-law approaches and I shake his hand respectfully. His grip is firm and his tone even harder as he pulls me close and says gruffly, “My daughter is a good girl, Maximus. You will treat her with the respect she deserves and she will make you a fine wife. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

I nod, the claws of destiny sharpening on my soul as I reassure him that I will only have her best interests at heart.

As I glance at her mother, I note the pain in her eyes and I nod my reassurance. She smiles briefly and accepts my kiss, and then her husband points to her assigned seat with an irritated glare.

She scoots off at speed as he prowls back to the entrance and Cassius whispers, “Fuck me, if that’s the marriage she’s expecting, you’re off the hook already.”

For some reason, it makes me angry. Her mother appeared beaten and lacked any emotion but despair. Do I want my wife to look at me like that? The fuck I do.

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