Page 48 of Silent Ties

I hold myself tighter. Of course, Yelena still wants to meet for lunch. I picture her icy figure, eating salad, boredom coating her movements.

Honestly, I think she’d like it if Paublino put a bullet through my head.

Why couldn’t I get Gia Akatov as my mother-in-law?

I knew Gia well before I saw her last week. Everyone knows her star-crossed love story with Boris Akatov.

The Italian mafia princess who fell in love with a prince from the bratva. Their families hated each other. Then after they married, someone kidnapped her when the power structure of the criminal syndicates in the city shuffled back in the nineties.

They kept her for three days, torturing her. She never gave them any information even as she watched her favorite guard die. No one talks about exactly what she went through but everyone knows it was bad.

Yet, the other day, she lit up like the brightest fucking star I’ve ever seen.

Imaginary fingers comb through my hair.

Get up.

Gia’s voice is gentle but commanding.

I know for damn sure Gia wouldn’t be curled up in the fetal position hiding in a closet.

She’s wise enough to know Yelena will laugh behind my back, thinking I’m too scared to go to lunch. The Ice Queen wants me to be a blubbering mess. She already thinks I’m not enough for her son, let alone cut out for this life.

What would Gia do? It would be an average day for her because no day is safe when we walk in this world.

I sit up, stifling a gasp when I move my neck. A painful crick throbs and I tenderly try to roll it out.

Clothes. Not just any clothes. Something badass. Something that says I could care less about a kill order out for me.

That’s a fucking lie, but hey, fake it till you make it.

Olga dresses me in skirts and dresses, but that’s not going to cut it. I find a pair of straight, black slacks and pair them with one of Maxim’s button-down shirts. It’s huge on me, but I like the oversizedfit.

I jam my toes into some heels and step into the bathroom. I keep the makeup light and unbothered. I search through my few lipstick options and find a neutral, better-than-lips shade. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I swear Gia was right. It’s way better than the darker, brown tone Olga suggested I wear.

Jewelry completes my outfit. A necklace lying between the few open buttons and some diamond studs. I grab a watch from Maxim’s side of the vanity. He rotates between two favorites. A brushed silver chain link piece and one with a leather band. I fasten the latter around my wrist. The clockface is rectangular and in my opinion, styles well with the button-down.

My heels echo against the hardwood flooring when I step into the living room. Max turns, ending a phone call.

“What?” he begins to ask.

“I have lunch with your mother.”

He tucks his phone away, his hands staying in his pockets. He missed class so I know he’s worried. “I already told my mother to cancel it.”

“Which means she’s there waiting for me.”

I wish I could smooth Max’s furrowed brows. They’ve been like that all morning.

“I’m going to go,” I tell him, sounding more bold than I feel. But there’s no telling how many attempts on her life Gia’s survived. And I can too.

Olga peers into the living room from the kitchen.

“Have Pavel pull the car to the front,” I order her.

Max holds up a hand. “We always go through the garage.”

“I’m using the front door.” Not that I’ve ever used it once. I assume there’s a doorman and a swanky front desk. We never use anything other than the private elevator which goes directly to the garage where there’s a fleet of cars and security.

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