Milana nods quickly. “Me too. Viktor always looked so uptight, so grumpy, like he hates everyone.”
“Exactly,” I say. “That’s why it’s dangerous to judge a book by its cover.”
A waiter comes by and we order, light salads and sparkling water. Once he leaves, we fall into easy sisterly gossip: howArtyom is still overprotective, how Mikhail’s temper hasn’t improved, how Kira and Irina are doing.
It feels so normal, so grounding. I’ve missed this, just us, talking about nothing and everything. Life has pulled us apart since my marriage, and these moments feel precious.
Milana leans forward, studying me. “But how are you? Really. How are things with Maxim?”
I feel my cheeks warm. The memory of our latest encounter flashes through my mind: his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me. His lips brushing my ear, him whispering “Malyshka… my love. You are everything I never knew I needed.”
I can’t help the small, private smile that tugs at my lips.
“Things are… really good,” I admit softly. “Better than I ever expected. We didn’t start on the right foot, but now… I love him, Milana. He makes me happy. He treats me with respect. He asks for my opinion on things, even business decisions. When he works from home, I sit with him. Sometimes he lets me stay during calls. It’s not just a forced marriage anymore. It feels like a real partnership. Like we’re building something together.”
Milana’s eyes soften with a hint of relief. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve this. I was worried about you… I didn’t know how it was going to turn out. But hearing you talk like this, it sounds like things are really good between you two.”
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand, smiling back. “They are. I won’t lie, it wasn’t easy at first. But Maxim… he’s changed. Or maybe I’ve changed too. We’ve changed together.”
She studies my face for a moment, then lets out a soft, happy sigh. “Good. You deserve that. You deserve to be happy.”
We talk for a while longer, falling into that easy rhythm we’ve always had. I tell her about the little things, how Maxim sometimes works from home just to be near me, how he’s started leaving me small notes, how safe I feel when he wraps his arms around me at night.
When we finish eating, we do what we always do: shop. We wander through boutiques, trying on clothes we might never wear, laughing at ridiculous outfits. By the time we finally call it a day, my cheeks ache from smiling and my arms are filled with shopping bags.
Maxim
It’s been said that patience is a virtue.
I never understood that growing up. It made no sense to me. Why should I wait when I could take what I wanted right away? Why be patient when the world rewarded those who seized power immediately?
But over the years, I’ve come to realize there are some things best left to time.
You want an empire that no one can touch? Give it time.
You want a wife who looks at you with love instead of fear? Give it time.
You want revenge against those who tried to destroy everything you built? Give it time.
Right now, as I sit at Pantheon’s headquarters during our weekly meeting, listening to Ivan drone on about how deeply sorry he is for Adrian’s “interference” and his attempt to kill me and my wife, I understand why patience matters.
A few months ago, these same men would not have let me step foot in this room. I was always on the outside looking in, the orphan, the bastard, the one without pure blood. The ones currently seated around this table used to look at me with disdain, like I was dirt beneath their shoes.
Now, as I look around, all I see is respect.
Give it time.
Ivan continues, “We were not aware of what Adrian was doing. It has always been the policy of this society, we do not attack our own. Nobody goes against another member. This is a brotherhood. It is us against the world, not us against eachother. Adrian violated that sacred rule. Had you not dealt with him, Maxim, we ourselves would have. Going against another member is punishable by death.”
The room is quiet. Every eye is on me.
Ivan straightens, looking directly at me. “Maxim, collectively, both the members present here and those attending virtually, have come to a unanimous vote. Adrian’s seat is now vacant. We would like to offer you the position of Vice President of Pantheon, if you are interested.”
I sit up a little straighter, keeping my face blank even as satisfaction courses through me. Give it time. And now, the table is mine. I let the silence stretch just long enough, scanning the room with deliberate calm.
“While I dearly appreciate the honor given to me,” I say, voice steady and authoritative, “I will have to decline to serve as Vice President. I am happy as a member upholding the principles that bind us together, without taking the position.”
I can see that Ivan is surprised but he says nothing about it, only that he appreciates my honestly and that they will be happy to give me some time to think about it. I agree even though I know my answer—I definitely don’t have any interest in walking into Adrian’s shoes.
