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Maxim
I don’t bother to make sure if she makes it to her car safely as I storm toward my car. I don’t trust myself at the moment not to do anything stupid.
I’m jealous.
I'm not even going to sit here and pretend that's not what I'm feeling. I’ve been attracted to Sophia since the first time I laid eyes on her. She’s mine, and if I have to tattoo my name on her body, so she gets the memo of who she belongs to in her head, then that’s what I‘ll do.
I’ve been so inside my head this whole time that I don’t notice I'm almost home. The phone chimes and the car system detects it’s Andrei calling. What does he fucking want? I’m not in the mood.
“Hello,” I answer his call with an annoyed tone.
“Hi, brother. Did the good doc say yes to going to dinner with you?”
I had forgotten that I would ask her, well, more like take her to dinner with me tonight. She said she wanted to talk about our arrangement, and I was going to ask her to dinner as a disguise.
“No, I got mad and didn't get to ask her.” He sighs, and before he can give me some crap about how I need to control my temper, I rush out, “She has a date tonight. I didn't take it well when I found out. Just drop it. Was that the only reason you called me?”
“Fine, I won't say anything else regarding the doc. I did call to ask where you are. We have to head to the Antonelli’s soon.”
“Did Elena agree to our plan?”
“Yes, and she said Sophia helped her make the decision.”
“I’m two minutes away. See you soon.”
Sophia thinks she can go on a date with someone else on my account? She’s fucking with the wrong man. She belongs to me and only me. If she wants to play, then let the game begin.
I go through my contacts, find the one I’m looking for, and dial his number. I need to do something tonight. We haven't had a meeting with the chief of police in a while. It’s about time we do. This is the perfect distraction to get that beautiful redhead off my mind. After a few rings, Mario picks up.
“Maxim, what a surprise.”
“Hello, Mario. It's past due for us to have a meeting. Meet me tonight at 8. Same spot.”
“All right,” is all he’s able to say before I hang up.
After arriving home with just enough time for a quick shower before leaving for the meeting, I change into a blue long-sleeved shirt and a black suit. I’m wearing this suit like a uniform at this point. It would be disrespectful to show up to a meeting dressed in anything less. I call out to Andrei to hurry up before we’re late. He cares more about his appearance than a woman. After what feels like forever, he graces me with his presence.
“You ready, princess?” I mock him. He nods and grins. “Let's do this.”
Wanting to feel an adrenaline rush, I decide to drive my Cadillac XLR-V. I pat the steering wheel a few times, showing her some affection, hearing the roar of the V8 under the hood as my foot teases the accelerator. It weaves through traffic on the expressway with such smoothness. It’s one of the many reasons I love this baby. I don't drive her enough, though. In my periphery, I see Andrei shift in the passenger seat.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, but he doesn't answer, just continues to stare out the window. “Andrei?” He shakes his head, staring at me.
“Yeah, sorry. I have a lot on my mind. What's up?”
“I just asked what was on your mind.”
He sighs. “Everything. The baby, Elena, the mess I got you into. I’m worried your plan won't go smoothly.” I would’ve never thought my easy, carefree brother would worry so much. I wonder how many emotions he has been hiding away all this time.
“Since when did our roles reverse? I'm usually a pessimist. We fake it till we make it. That’s our motto, and it has never steered us wrong. We had our lawyer prepare a solid contract, and I have what he wants. Also, stop thinking that you got me in a mess. You know I’ll always have your back.”
He just pats my shoulder and then looks out the window. He isn’t going to feel better until after the meeting, so I drive the rest of the way in silence. The silence continues until we arrive at our destination and are welcomed by Marcos Antonelli.
“Boys, good to see you. Welcome to my home,” he says in this tone laced with annoyance and curiosity.
I hate when he calls me boy, as if he’s trying to remind me that he’s much older with more experience. I know how to handle people like him. It's always the one they don’t suspect that will destroy them. Let him keep thinking I’m a boy.
“Hello, Marcos. Thank you for having us.” My voice deepens, which highlights my accent, reminding him of my position of power.
