Page 78 of Savage Vows
I type slowly, keeping it light:Alex, you still have your ears in Midtown? I’m trying to find out about a guy—goes by Mik Reznikov.
The message delivers and the app shows him online almost instantly. A few dots flicker. Then:Didn’t think you were still working stories. Reznikov is bad news—coke, pills, low-level Romanov errand boy. Got pinched last year, but charges vanished. Used to run with the Bratva. Why?
Old friend disappeared. I’m just trying to help her mother sleep at night, I reply, letting the lie rest easy between us.
Alex:I don’t know Mik, but you might know someone he used to make deals with. Not sure if he’s still in the game or just lying low.
Me:Anything helps. Thanks, Alex.
I hit send and set my phone aside, feeling the old pulse of adrenaline pick up in my chest. This is the first time I’ve felt it since the Serrano story—since the days when I was more than someone’s wife, when following a lead meant possibility instead of trouble. It’s a small thing, chasing a ghost through the city’s shadows, but it makes me feel awake for the first time in months.
I’m just closing my laptop when a sudden knock at the apartment door startles me. My heart jumps. I glance at the clock, then back at the door.
I cross the living room, careful to mask my nerves, and open the door. Maksim stands in the hallway, hands in his pockets,looking entirely out of place in the polished glass and marble of the penthouse. He offers a small smile, just the barest flicker at the corner of his mouth.
“Oleg let me in,” he says, glancing behind him at the armed man stationed discreetly at the elevator.
I nod. “Come in.”
He steps inside, and for a moment the silence feels like a third person in the room. From up here, the city is nothing but a pattern of lights and moving traffic. The door clicks shut behind us. We’re alone, but not unobserved. I know Volkov men are stationed on the floor, watching every entry, every exit.
Maksim doesn’t comment on the view or the security. Instead, he studies me, his gaze sharper than I remember. “Heard you left the estate for the city,” he says finally, as if it’s just small talk.
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Did you come to see Dante?”
He shakes his head. “No. I came to see you.”
Despite everything, my heart skips. I feel it, sudden and embarrassing—a reminder of another life, another version of myself. I school my expression and try to look unaffected, but inside I can’t help the rush of nerves and curiosity, the sense that the world has tilted just a little.
I gesture toward the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?” My voice sounds a little too formal, but I can’t help it; Maksim always had a way of making me aware of every word I say.
He follows me, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. “If you’re having one, sure.”
I busy myself at the machine, grateful for the task. I hear him move behind me, slow, unhurried, his presence settling into the apartment like he belongs. I pass him a cup and try not to stare.
“So,” I say, forcing myself to look up, “why did you really come, Maksim?”
He holds my gaze, eyes searching my face. “I heard you were in the city. Thought you might want a familiar face.” He gives a small, lopsided smile. “Or maybe you just needed a reminder that you’re not alone, no matter what the Volkovs want you to believe.”
I wince slightly.
“Things were that bad, huh?” he says, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I had heard rumors.”
I feel weird bad-mouthing Dante’s family. “Nah, nothing like that.”
“You got better at lying,” he says.
He glances around the apartment, taking in the high ceilings and stark furniture. “So this is home now?” he asks, but his voice is gentle, not judging.
I give a small, self-conscious laugh. “For now, I suppose. It’s very…temporary.”
He nods, looking at me more than the room. “Is he good to you?”
The question catches me off guard. I hesitate, searching for an answer that won’t betray too much. “He’s…not cruel,” I say quietly. “He’s just…who he is. He’s a Volkov.”
Maksim studies me for a moment, something like concern passing through his eyes. “You always deserved better than the world gave you.”
I look away, heat rising in my cheeks. “Sometimes I wonder if anyone gets what they deserve in this family.”
