Page 81 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
On the one hand, I’m more than relieved. The second I laid eyes on them, I could’ve cried if I didn’t feel so numb from being knocked out.
But on the other hand, they’ve walked straight into danger. Every one of those men is heavily armed with guns able to far outperform the Lukovs’ pistols.
The thought of any of them getting hurt all to save me makes my stomach twist further.
“You really thought you could tote Victoria around like bait among those pricks at the gala, and I’d jump at the chance to collect her? Like I’d try to be a happy family again?”
Flinching at those words, well aware that he’s far from being any kind of brother to me, I try to school my emotions. To stay quiet and keep it all to myself.
I watch as Roman’s jaw tightens, and his grip on the gun doesn’t waver. His words come out terse. “I figured even a heartless bastard like yourself might feel some remorse for not knowing your own sister.”
“I’m not sure how else to say this, but…I don’t give a fuck,” Maxim says, sounding far too casual about it all as he chuckles bitterly. “About my sister, about your marriage…none of it.”
“Then why retaliate and make it seem like the opposite?”
He huffs. “I didn’t go after her to retrieve her, no…I set my sights on her because she’s the first one you’ve ever shown off so proudly. Victoria is your crutch, and I intend to exploit that.”
Despite the threat hidden beneath those words, I can see the way that truth reflects in Roman’s eyes—the shift in his expression that’s so subtle that nobody else notices it.
But I do. I feel it.
We both know that’s true.
An uncomfortable silence falls over the room before Roman relents to the slightest degree as he grounds out, “What do you want?”
At this, another satisfied hum leaves Maxim. “There are many things I want, Roman…but most of all, I want what you took from me—the influence you stole. The position. The power.”
Roman’s brows furrow. “This is your grand move? Attempting to take my place?”
“You make it sound so much simpler than it is…smaller, really,” he murmurs, letting that veiled amusement linger in his words despite the seriousness of the situation. “But yes…I want Roman Lukov to bend to me…to relent since I have your previous gem.”
The reminder makes Roman bristle and never takes his eyes off Maxim. “Tell me…how exactly did I take that from you when it was never yours to begin with?”
Maxim’s grip on me tenses, sending shooting pain through my scalp. I wince.
For the first time, he takes on a serious tone. “You know damn well…Vegas belonged to my father before he decided to trust Aleksandr Lukov…your father. I was only eleven when it happened, but even at that age, I knew what I needed to do. I knew I needed to avenge him.”
Taking in his words, something clicks in my mind, and despite his grip on me, I manage to murmur, “So you knew all along…about me.”
I feel a subtle hesitation in his hold on me, and then Maxim scoffs. “Of course I did…we were separated, and with time, I lost track of you.”
“And you never bothered to look for me?”
“No, I didn’t feel the need to.”
Even though we don’t have a familiar relationship in the slightest, something about that admittance still feels like a knife to the chest anyway.
“Despite what influence you have, you never even tried to find her,” Roman speaks up, sounding cold and accusatory. “Your sister…”
“Shut up,” Maxim snaps, gripping my hair tighter all over again, making me yelp. “You know what I want…and if you want your precious wife back, then you’ll damn well give it to me.”
Through the ache of it all, I watch Roman’s expression shift subtly. How he’s considering his options and silently calculating everything.
I can tell he’s debating it…debating giving up some of his influence just to get me back.
While part of me is screaming for him to do exactly that and to get me out of there, I also know how important it all is to him. To his family.
He’s trapped between both places…either he chooses between me and his empire.
