Page 43 of Bound to the Bratva
He licks his lips and shakes his head, “Because it’s important. This is for life, and I’m going to savor the little things.”
His words touch me, yet again proving he isn’t as bad as I thought. He navigates the stairs, quiet as a mouse and walks toward our bedroom.
Once we get inside, he shuts the door with his foot and places me on my feet. His hands linger on my waist and my heart rate picks up. I didn’t even think about this…we’re going to be sleeping in the same bed.
I step out of his touch and head over toward the bed, taking in everything. “I’m still shocked how beautiful the place is.” It just shows me how little I really know about him, and how much there is to learn.
He smirks, “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so I’m happy you like it so much.”
Scanning around the exposed brick walls and large windows, I smile back at him. “I’m more than comfortable, Maxim. I’m mesmerized.”
Fourteen
Maxim
The cigar smoke wafts around me, thick through the atmosphere as I sit in a booth, waiting on Aria and her mother. I’ve invited them both out for a late lunch, using it as an opportunity to get to know her mother more, since I haven’t seen her very much.
I tap ash into the crystal tray, grinding my jaw as I stare at the grainy security footage on my phone once again. The group of gunmen running inside the church, wedding guests running and hiding as quickly as they can, and Aria's tear-stained face—it all replays in an endless loop. A week has gone by without a single lead on who tried to kill us. We’re still uncertain if I was the target, or if it was my bride…but I’ll get my answers.
My phone buzzes and Aria’s name pops up. I scroll over to my messages and see something I didn’t expect.
From: Aria
Running late. So sorry! Patient’s parents are asking questions and I have to take time to explain.
I shoot her a quick text back.
To: Aria
Don’t worry, take as much time as you need. Your mother hasn’t arrived yet.
Exhaling a stream of smoke, I glance around the space and still don’t see her mother. Oh well, it will give me more time to watch this video. I’ve been looking at every single detail: how the gunmen entered the church, if they communicated with each other before shit hit the fan, if any of the guests didn’t seem surprised by their arrival.
So far, nothing has screamed out at me. I’ve even spoken to my father about it, who again has told me nothing new. He doesn’t have any leads, yet he’s looking into things. I think I’ll have better luck finding who’s responsible for this myself.
I’ve yet to speak to Aria’s father, but I will within the next week or so. Hopefully, by then one of us will have some sort of idea about what’s going on.
I’m very eager to see Aria’s mother and learn more about her. It’s been made apparent to me that Aria was raised by her mother, and has picked up a lot of habits from her. Because of that, I want to know the kind of woman her mother is. All I’ve heard are a few stories from Sasha, who I am learning to accept.
He and I wouldn’t typically get along out in the real world. He’s a little softer than my liking, but I think that’s only because he nor Aria have ever been overly involved in the Bratva. I’m certain the more his father brings him in, the more he’ll toughen up.
I take a sip of the brandy in front of me and savor the flavor, honestly taken aback that Aria and her mother were okay with having lunch here. This restaurant is unlike any other I’ve been to in the city. It’s a luxurious Italian joint that allows you to purchase cigars and smoke them in specific areas, not to mention they have the rarest of alcohols.
When I suggested where we should go to eat, Aria seemed to get a kick out of it. She told me she didn’t care, but I feel as though her mother will either love it or hate it.
I know Aria would rather be here than be late, but what she’s doing deserves time. Since we got married, I’ve learned so much more about what it is that she does on a day to day basis. It blows my mind, truly. I could never imagine working in a field where death is layered through every aspect of your day. Then again, I suppose mine is in a different way.
An older woman is being brought over to my table, a waiter only a few strides in front of her. “Sir, it seems some of your party is here. You are waiting for one more, correct?”
I nod and rise, “Yes, I am.”
“I will bring them here as soon as they arrive,” the man tells me with a thick, heavy Italian accent.
As he walks off, Aria’s mother smiles widely. “Maxim, it is good to see you.”
I pull her in for a warm embrace, “It’s good to see you as well, and nice to finally have time to chat. We didn’t have a lot of time at the wedding.”
She laughs lightly as she releases herself, “Yes, well, that turned somber very quickly. I’m just glad the two of you are all right.”
