Page 58 of Silent Ties

What? He’s seriously asking me that.

“Stop fucking me within an inch of my life and then refuse to cuddle me.”

This man has the audacity to look confused.

I motion for him to move toward me. “Hand.” I hold mine out.

He sighs again but gives me his hand. I pull him forward until his arm wraps around my waist and I wiggle back into his chest, smiling like a fool.

CHAPTER 16

Maxim

“Are you trying to ghost me?” Dad asks over the phone.

“You know I dislike it when you use language you think makes you sound young.”

“I thought it was clever,” his suave voice answers, “considering it’s regarding the Ghost after all.”

There’s no point sighing, but I stifle something inside. My dad got to where he is because of his ability to handle multiple crises at once. Until recently I thought I had the same ability. See a fire, put it out. Quick and efficient.

But lately, things in the city are shifting. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But the more I speak to my father, the more I wonder if others feel it too.

“Ren’s silence means he said no.” Follow-up texts aren’t her forte. If she’d called requesting a meeting, it meant she successfully brought the Ghost to the table.

“Ask again,” Dad demands.

It’ll do nothing. But being the good son I am, I tell him, “I’ll grab lunch there tomorrow.” Make Ren’s day while I’m at it.

Noise bleeds into the background, something like a fridge door shutting.

“Are you eating?” I ask. The great crime lord Lev Zimin getting a late-night snack.

“Your mother is on this kick,” he replies. He switches his voice just slightly. He now speaks as my dad and not my boss. “But I’m not a fucking rabbit.”

I stay silent but don’t fight the smile on my face. Mom eats a handful of almonds and calls it a day. The men of the family prefer meat and potatoes.

“How is Russie?”

My smile twitches into a frown. “What?”

“Russie?”

“Why are you calling her that?”

“I don’t know Maxie, because that’s what people do. Use nicknames.”

“Elijah doesn’t have a nickname.” I called him Eli once when we were kids. I wore a cast on my right arm for six weeks.

“Elijah came out of his mother’s womb in a three-piece suit.” Things rattle in the background, probably the cutlery drawer. “His hatred of shortened names should be the least of our worries. Now answer the question and tell me your wife is okay.”

“Of course she’s okay.” Why wouldn’t she be?

“She still goes to lunch with your mom?”

My frown deepens. I know Mom and Dad aren’t as close as other couples, but they’re normally aware of each other’s schedules. “Yes.”

Humming under his breath, he doesn’t respond. A sports game wavers through the line and I picture Dad hunkering down in the kitchen, watching the game with his sandwich in front of him.

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