Page 29 of The Enforcer's Vow
She leaves me alone in the break room, but her words cling to my thoughts as I make my way to my desk, which sits in the corner of the main office, partially hidden behind a filing cabinet. The chair is uncomfortable, the desk surface scratched and worn.
I settle into my chair and open the first ledger of the day. Numbers have always been my refuge—clean, logical,predictable. They tell stories without lies, reveal truths without emotion. But today they blur together as my mind wanders to last night.
To the way Maksim's hands felt on my skin. To the way he looked at me afterward, possessive and focused and almost reverent.
The numbers swim before my eyes. Bets placed, money exchanged, percentages calculated. All of it illegal, all of it dangerous. But it's the world I know. The world I understand.
Damir's warning echoes in my head.You need to walk away from this. Now.
But then I remember the heat of Maksim's mouth on my throat. The way his fingers traced my spine. The way he held me afterward, like I was breakable.
I've never felt safe with any man in my life. Not really. Not completely. My father vanished when I needed him most. The men who came after were users, takers, men who saw opportunity in a young girl's desperation.
But with Maksim, for those few hours, I felt protected. Wanted. Cherished, even.
The idea of marrying him should terrify me. It should send me running in the opposite direction. Marriage in our world isn't about love. It's about power, control, ownership. But instead, it settles somewhere low in my stomach, warm and secret and unnamed.
Maybe he's lying about his intentions. Maybe I'm lying to myself about mine. But part of me wants to see how far he'll go to keep me close. Part of me wants to find out what happens when a man like him decides he wants a woman like me.
Part of me wants to let him try.
I close the ledger and stare out the window at the city beyond. Gray buildings rise toward a gray sky, endless and unchanging. Somewhere out there, Damir is hiding. Somewhere out there,Maksim is planning his next move. And somewhere in between, I'm trying to figure out which one of them is going to save me.
Or destroy me.
The phone in my pocket stays silent, but I keep checking it anyway. Waiting for a message that might never come. Waiting for answers that might not exist.
Waiting for a choice that might already be made.
But as I sit here, surrounded by the evidence of other people's risks and losses, I realize I've already decided. I've already chosen. The moment I let Maksim into my apartment, into my bed, into my thoughts, I chose him.
Now I just have to live with the consequences.
12
MAKSIM
Rolan is waiting for me when I arrive at the estate. He's already poured two glasses of vodka and set them on his desk, which means he's been expecting this conversation.
"You look like a man with a plan," he says, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I take the seat but don't touch the vodka. "I am," I say, loosening my tie. "I have a proposal."
Now he turns, raising an eyebrow. "About the Mirova girl?"
"An engagement. Public announcement." Claiming Grisha's idea as my own is nothing. Rolan won't question me, and I get all the credit for it. Besides, if I bring it up, I get to control the narrative from this point on and maybe, just maybe, it means I can spin this so Zoya stays mine, long after Damir is dead.
As he tips his glass up to his lips, the crystal catches the afternoon light, throwing rainbows across the mahogany desk. "She's agreed to this?"
"She will."
"You sound confident."
I take the glass he offers. The vodka burns, clean, familiar. "She's already halfway there emotionally. Pushing the idea will trigger Damir if he's watching."
Rolan settles into his chair and studies me across the desk. "And if he doesn't surface?"
"Then we have her locked down. Either way, we win."
