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But I won’t kill Maxim until I know exactly what he did and why.
“Ah, yes. A business opportunity.” He takes a puff of his cigar and blows a ring over my head. “In that case, shouldn’t we work out the terms of our agreement?”
There’s something in his tone that catches me off guard. A shiver runs down my spine.
You’d think I would have spent time negotiating the terms of our agreement, but right after agreeing to the marriage, Maxim allowed me a month before settling in Moscow by his side. I spent most of the time in Brooklyn, packing up my apartment and sorting out my affairs, not reaching out to anyone I know because they’d have questions I didn’t want to answer.
I swallow hard. “I agree. We need to talk.” I look behind me through the glass doors at the party still in full swing. “But, right now?”
He flicks a wrist dismissively. “Our guests will wait.”
Ideally, access to his business would be the best way for me to investigate his connections, alliances, enemies—anything that can shed light on his past involvement with the Antonov Bratva, particularly if he owed my father any favors. What motivates him—is it money, power, retribution? Beyond business magnate, beyond being the man that Russia’s crime syndicates report to, who is he really?
A little late for that.
Apart from the few public details, all I know is that he’s nearly twice my age, my best friend’s biological father, and he was married at one time. That juicy tidbit, he confided in Alyona.
I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry and tight. “I’d like to help run your syndicate business. As you know, I’ve been involved in the Kozlov Bratva for several years and?—”
“I wanted Alyona—my daughter, my heir—to help lead my empire. That’s not what I require from you.” He tilts his head, assessing me quietly. “What I need from you is a society wife. Host parties, involve yourself in charities, attend events with me, look good on my arm?—”
“What!” Anger presses down on my shoulders. “You’re looking for a trophy wife? To throw dinner parties and look hot? You could have mentioned that earlier.”
“I never said anything about dinner parties.” His voice is as dry as paper.
I don’t know whether to laugh or punch him. He leans in, the close proximity forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his dark blue orbs. A flicker of unease drips down my spine because Maxim, up close and personal, is intimidating as fuck.
“This is a business arrangement, Kira, and in business, I always do what’s best for me.”
I stomp a foot. “I am capable of much more than shopping and hosting parties. Surely, you see my value as something more than a Stepford wife.”
He stills, nostrils flaring as he runs a thumb down the center of his lips. “A few hours ago, you pledged to obey me. Are you breaking your vows already? Because I don’t think you’ll like the consequences of disobeying me.” His lips curl up at the corner but not in a friendly way.
His threat burrows under my skin, making my collar feel like a noose. I take a step back and suck in a full breath. “You wanted Alyona in your business, so why not me?”
"Because my circumstances have changed.” With deliberate precision, Maxim grinds his cigar into a nearby ashtray, ensuring every ember is extinguished before his eyes cut backto mine. “As you know, my business interests are … varied.” I take that to mean legal and not-at-all legal. “We’re having some trouble with a powerful triad based in Hong Kong, and things are about to get messy. I don’t need bad press complicating matters, so I’m feeding them a juicy story to ensure they’re distracted.”
Realization dawns slowly. "I'm the story. We're the story." Moscow's most eligible bachelor off the market is what headline dreams are made of. It certainly explains the media covering our wedding—something I wasn't entirely prepared for.
“I think you understand now.”
My mouth opens and closes, then opens again. “You … you misled me. I thought I was going to be your partner, not just a pretty distraction.” Heat blooms under my collar, and yet I don’t know why I’m the least bit surprised. Maxim is as slippery as they come.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Perhaps you should have clarified the terms before you suggested marriage.”
I take a deep, calming breath and assess the situation. Fighting him will get me nowhere—he’s as impenetrable as steel. If Maxim wants a society wife, fine, but it won’t stop me from learning what I need to.
“You’re right. I should have.” The soft light from the ballroom dances across the sharp angles of his face. It seems like a cruel joke that a man this hot could also be so damn cold. “But here we are. Let’s set the terms now. I’ll be what you need me to be—I’ll throw the parties and the dinners, and play the part of a perfect wife, but in return, I want you to take me seriously. In time, I want an expanded role in your world, one with real power.”
That smirk, which I've already come to loathe, curls his lips. “Your role will be expanded,” he says, catching me off-guard. I’m pleasantly surprised until he finishes the thought. “You’ll bearme children. Did you forget so soon, Kira? When you offered yourself up as my bride, you promised me heirs.”
My promise in the wine cellar comes back to haunt me. It was never a promise I intended to keep. I’d consider having kids someday, but certainly not with this monster. Still, I’ll let him believe I’m willing, long enough to learn what I need to.
“I didn’t forget, but I need time.” My mind spins out, trying to grasp onto a length of time that seems reasonable. “One month. Give me one month to settle into your world, and then we can … we can…” The words stick in my throat, and for some reason, it seems to amuse Maxim. “Start a family. But before then, there will be no physical relationship between us. Sleep with whomever you want. I don’t care. Between us, it’s strictly business.”
I’m no prude. I like sex. No, scratch that—I love it. I usually have plenty of it in the form of one-night stands and temporary flings, but I’ll never sleep with my aunt’s killer.
“Good to know that I have your blessing, but just so we’re clear, I don’t need it. I take what I want, when I want it.” He grasps my chin, our gazes clashing. His thumb skates deliberately over my jaw. “I’m not extending the same permission to you.” His grip on my chin tightens ever so slightly, his eyes burning with a possessive intensity. "I never want to hear of another man touching, no less looking your way. Business arrangement or not, I don’t share what’s mine.”
