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Maxim’s Choice
A Bratva Chronicles Book 1
Mina Petrov
Copyright © 2021 by Mina Petrov
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Publisher: Ghost Rose Publishing
Editing by: Kim Lubbers
Proofreading by: Alecia Rivers Goodman
Formatted by: E.C. Land
Created with Vellum
 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
 1

Annika
Holding the plain, black dress in my hands, the silk feels rough and barbed,
as if little hooks catch the meaty parts of my fingers. Smoothing the harsh
fabric, I hold the dress up to stare at the almost skimpy style. How can this
short scrap be appropriate for a wake?
“I don’t even know what’s goin’ on,” I murmur in the quietness of my
apartment as I stare into the mirror at my messy room. Memories beat against
my eyes of the phone call I’d received from Petr’s mother. Shrieking,
screaming, accusing me of killing Petr. Of ordering Maxim to kill him. Of
secretly plotting to kill them all. Reaching to rub my head in dazed confusion,
I shake myself out as phantom cries echo in my ears. “I don’t know.”
My world is immersed in silence, the maddening quiet that even the
firmest words can’t breach, and I bring my dress to my body to frown. The
smooth lines, the low cut, and high hem . . . who would wear this to a place
of mourning? “Not that I mourn Petr.”
My phone trills, cutting my mumblings off, and I snatch it to open the
text from my father. Closing the text swiftly, I pull the dress over my head
and navigate to Maxim’s texts to scan through them. He’d sent me message
after message the past two weeks, but he couldn’t get around a direct order
from my father. My heart aches fiercely, and I shimmy into the dress to grab
heels and sit on my bed.
Maxim is being investigated, I know, but he couldn’t have killed Petr.
There was no way. We talked about it. No matter how much Maxim hated
Petr, he wouldn’t risk taking action . . . but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t drop
heavy hints to someone else.
“No.” I shake my head furiously, my voice trembling as it struggles to
escape my tight, burning throat. Slipping on my shoes, I stuff my phone into
my purse to stand and huff, gathering up my courage. “He’s right, people
knew about it. As much as my dad tried to make my engagement a secret, it
wasn’t. This was someone else.”
I nod to myself as I leave my room, trying not to look at my apartment
too much. Maxim hadn’t been allowed to come help me fix the holes in the
wall or the broken kitchen cabinets. My place is still a haunting reminder of
the epic crap storm that had sucked me in, and I studiously ignore my
surroundings. Stepping out into the hallway, a ghost of a breeze slips under
my dress, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle as my lips tingle
wildly.
Had it really only been two weeks since Petr forced me to kiss him right
in this very spot? Resisting the urge to rub my face in frustration, I swing my
arm out at the phantom of that moment. Disgust tightens my chest, and
goosebumps sweep down my arms and across my torso before I make my
way to the elevator.
I’ll be the bad guy. Maxim’s faint declaration echoing in my ears lodges
ice deep in my chest where my heart should go, and I rub the spot faintly.
What if he copped to Petr’s death, and that’s why my dad won’t let us see
each other? Dread gnaws at my gut, and I take the elevator down to the first
floor, where my father’s car is waiting. The driver opens the door for me, and
I slide into the seat next to my sisters to buckle up.
“Annika, you look lovely,” my dad says, sitting across from me, and he
smiles warmly even as my body grows colder. “What’s wrong? I know it
must be very upsetting that Petr was murdered. You were getting along so
well.”
“How would you even know? You never showed up to any of the
meetings,” I say blandly, resolutely over all the bullshit pretending. My
sisters grow quiet at my hoarse snipe, and I glare hotly at my father as he
stiffens. “You left me there to deal with them by myself. And that old hag
totally steamrolled right over me. So, if you’re listening to her, she was so
busy listening to herself talk that a bomb could’ve gone off, and she would
only notice when the attention was off her.”
“Anni! That’s inappropriate! We’re going to Petr’s wake before he goes
back to Russia to be buried and that ‘old hag’ just lost her son! You’ll do well
to respect that.” My dad chastises me harshly, and I roll my eyes and scoff
loudly. The atmosphere in the car becomes stifling, and I roll down my
window just to struggle to breathe.
“I don’t care. Petr died, so what? I’d rather he be dead than be married to
him. How about that? If he didn’t die, I was gonna kill myself, becau—” My
dad suddenly reaches out, and my words bungle in my throat when he grabs
my face sharply. His nails dig into my cheeks, his eyes blazing with rage and
upset, but I stare directly into it to show how serious I am. Pushing him away,
I roll my jaw as a snarl lifts my lip, my gaze not wavering from his. “Hurts,
doesn’t it? Brings back memories of Kelly, doesn’t it? Your best man’s
daughter killed herself to get out of your shitty decision. It’s pretty evident,
Dad, that you were gonna abandon me in Russia. I’m not fucking stupid.”
My father has the gall to look surprised that I knew about his little plan,
and I inhale sharply and hold my jaw gingerly. “You think I didn’t know
about that? You were gonna ship me off to Russia and leave me there with
him. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Well, I’d be out of sight six feet in the
ground, too. You must be so proud of yourself, driving your very own
daughter nearly to suicide? Does it hurt you? Huh?”
“Annika, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tatiana whispers, horrified,
and I train my glare at her nastily.
“You shut the Hell up. You have no right to judge me. Just wait until Dad
tries to pawn you off on some abusive bastard, ship you across the world, and
pretend you don’t exist anymore,” I snarl nastily as the taste of blood stains
my tongue, and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand. Tatiana’s eyes
brim with defiant self-righteousness, and she opens her mouth only to stall
when my eyelid twitches in agitation. “I dare you to say, ‘it won’t happen to
me.’ He was already planning it. Weren’t you, Dad?”
Tatiana is my father’s favorite, after all. Turning to him, disbelief shreds
her expression and only grows more intense with hurt when he looks away
from her out the tinted windows. Muted surprise bubbles up thickly against
my ribs. I didn’t think he really was planning marriage alliances for all his
daughters? But, since he is with me, it isn’t a stretch of the imagination.
Covering her mouth in horror, Tatiana slumps a little in her seat as a frosty
silence stretches longer than this limousine. Quietly, Marissa shuffles from
Dad’s side of the seats to ours, a simple but noticed act that he watches out of
the corner of his eye shrewdly.
 Marissa sits next to me to hold my hand, and I suck in a sharp breath as
realization slams into my gut. I tremble viciously, and I close my eyes to take
heaving breaths to calm myself. She doesn’t say anything, simply offering me
stability with her hands firm and cool against mine.
“I can’t imagine,” Marissa starts, and I bite my bottom lip as the blood on
my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, “how hard it must have been, and
how much of a mess you must be, Anni . . . but you can’t take that out on us.
Whatever you’re feeling right now, just be relieved that you’re here and
Petr’s not, and none of it involved you.”
“Were you seriously considering killing yourself like Kelly did?” Tatiana
asks, following Marissa’s reassurance, and I nod curtly as I clutch my sister’s
hand tightly. My clammy skin clings to Marissa’s dry palm, but I oh, so very
much wish it wasn’t her hand I’m holding at this moment. “You’d do that to
us?”
“It’s not about you, Tatiana, and now isn’t the time to get self-centered.
Please,” Marissa rebukes gently, and I snatch a napkin from the center
console of the limo seat to bite down on it. Smears of blood stain the napkin
when I pull back, and the side of my tongue stings from the sudden pressure.
“I understand that it can seem like the only way out, and Kelly’s death . . . hit
everyone hard, but we eventually recovered. She was like a sister to us.
Seeing how things have ended up, I can understand why it’d be a precedent if
you felt like you had no other choice.”
“I . . . I will not be like a fucking pair of shoes, to be given away and . . .
and . . . and used and discarded when I’m full of holes, and my soul is falling
out,” I whisper fiercely, glaring briefly at my father, but he doesn’t tear his
eyes off his own fucking reflection. Scoffing hard around my napkin, I tense
when Marissa bends over to grab a water bottle from the tiny cooler in the
middle of the limo. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Marissa smiles sympathetically, but I don’t want her
sympathy. I just want to be bitter and resentful while I still can. Before it
becomes ‘socially inappropriate’ to despise my father for what he put me
through, because the ‘well, nothing happened, so get over it’ begins.
“Today’s wake for Petr is a stage performance, Annika. For a few hours,
you’re going to have to swallow all these feelings you have. When Petr’s
body goes back to Russia, this whole fiasco will be over, and you can start to
heal. Just a few hours, alright?”
Jerking my head in a nod, I release Marissa’s hand as she smiles
encouragingly before twisting off the cap and taking huge gulps of water. The
cold sends shocks through me all the way to my fingertips, and I gasp
harshly. “Everything will be okay, Annika. I know these last two weeks have
been stressful on you without Maxim here to keep you afloat, but . . . I think
it’d be good for you to learn a little independence. At the very least, learn to
figure out who deserves your emotions and why?”
“I know exactly who to hate and why,” I glare at my dad hotly as he
adamantly ignores me, and I turn away from him sharply. “Let’s just get this
over with. I’m just glad someone got to Petr before I did.”
 2

Maxim
Every hair on my body rises, and goosebumps blanket my skin the moment
Annika enters the room, and my mouth dries as I stare at her from my post.
Leaning against the door frame at the back of the room, I fold my arms
tightly over my chest. My heart races as I scan her through narrowed eyes.
She’s wearing a beautiful little dress, and her hair cascades in perfect curls
over her shoulders. Annika’s face is a porcelain mask of sadness, baked and
set in deep, and it doesn’t crack when she glances over at me to lock eyes.
Biting back a frown, I grind my molars at the intense betrayal that
brightens her eyes before she pointedly looks away and dabs the corner of her
eye. Her old man shuffles in, decrepit fuck pretending to be frail as he uses
his other daughter to prop himself up. Displeasure sets deep in his wrinkled,
weathered face, and steam pours out of my ears as I watch them all.
Annika hates me again. Her father had refused to let me leave his side the
past few weeks. All I heard all day long were conspiracies that involved
everyone, even dead people. Wild ramblings that went on for hours. He’d
sent his usual guards away, saying he couldn’t trust anyone but me. That I
was good to Annika, and he needed me . . . but just to listen to him go on
ego-driven, vitriolic rants about every person that’d ever been in his life.
And, to his credit, the old geezer tried really hard to seem nuts, but I
didn’t buy it. Playing along with his questions, his demands for agreements, I
can’t smell the rot of a dying man on him, not even a whiff. If anything, he
was driving me up a fuckin’ wall with his nonstop babbling about
assassinations and secret coups.
Reaching to cup my chin, I turn my gaze to Annika as Petr’s mother
approaches the four of them, and I hold my breath as my heart leaps into my
throat. That crusty bitch who’d treated Anni so badly hugs her now, cupping
her face as she loudly declares how happy she is that Anni is here. The sound
scrapes my ear drums painfully, and I cover my mouth to hide my disgust
when Annika plays along.
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Annika says, the muted atmosphere
bringing her words to me, and I hold my breath in anticipation. Petr’s mother
scoffs but tries to pass it off as a sob, flinging her arms around Annika.
Briefly, Anni’s grief-painted expression cracks, but she quickly finishes it
before the old woman pulls back to heave a sigh.
“You and Petr would’ve made such a happy couple,” the woman says
forlornly, but the insult is there, veiled under Annika’s slight nod. That Anni's
still suspect, despite the past two weeks proving otherwise. She just fuckin’
hates Annika for whatever reason, and I reach to palm my gun against my
side securely. “I hope you remember that I’ll still be here for you like the
daughter-in-law you were supposed to be.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not your daughter-in-law, and I don’t want to
be a constant reminder of what could’ve been, I’m sorry,” Annika says with a
slight bite that tightens my throat even across the room and the woman
stands, stunned, as she steps back. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Women. I smirk slightly at the invisible daggers Annika plunges
mercilessly into that bitch’s face. I watch Anni walk away toward her sisters
and father, but he immediately intervenes in damage control. I can’t hear
what they say, my focus on Annika as she and Marissa make their way
toward the back. Petr’s body is already heading to Moscow. This casket is
just for show, closed, and empty. She gives me a horrible stink-eye, frowning
darkly, and my mouth dries as my mind races for proper words.
“Anni, can I talk to you a sec’?” Blushing an angry red, Annika opens her
mouth only for Marissa to put a hand on her shoulder, and hope blossoms in
my chest. Grabbing her hand, I take her to a corner to clear my throat roughly
of the guilt that clogs it. “Listen, I know you’re mad about the last two
weeks, but your father’s been keeping me under his thumb, and—”
“I don’t want your excuses, Maxim,” she starts, anger simmering in her
voice and face, and I hold up a hand to stop her, which only makes her
madder.
 “Listen to me for just a second, okay? It’s easy to forget, but I work for
him. He called me, told me he needed me, and that I had to be with him
twenty-four seven. I know you’re not happy with me, but . . .” Licking my
dry lips heavily as nerves tingle my tongue, I inhale deeply and hold it as
Annika’s expression twinges in the slightest reciprocation. “I haven’t been
allowed to talk to anyone, he took my phone, I haven’t been allowed back to
my place. He’s literally been holding me prisoner, and he goes on these
hours-long rants and shit about every conspiracy his fucked-up mind can
create. I’ve tried asking him to let me call you—explain. He dismissed all his
usual staff, Anni.”
“You couldn’t have written me a note or something?” Alarm colors her
tone, and I roll my eyes at her question when Annika twists to glance at her
father before shaking her head. “What’s going on, Maxim? Do you have any
idea what happened with Petr?”
“No, all your father does is blather on about being assassinated, how he
can’t trust anyone, all the usual stuff. Look,” I exhale a shaky breath,
squeezing her hand, and Annika tenses as she frowns at me. “Can we meet up
and talk? At the bench at the park? Tomorrow at four? I can get away while
he takes his nap—it’s like clockwork, and he demands to be left alone. I tell
you, if I was afraid someone was gonna kill me, I wouldn’t stick to the same
schedule.”
“Maxim.” Uncertainty threads her voice, and I squeeze her hand tighter in
muted pleading before Annika sighs heavily. “Come on . . . this is a wake,
and I just—I don’t need to add my dad’s crazy to my own.”
“But you’re not gonna marry that infected dickhole, and . . .” I pause
when she cracks a smirk briefly before realization widens her eyes, I smile
warmly at the rise I got from her. “Even if your dad tries again, he can’t do it
right now. You have time. I can’t take this tension anymore, Anni. And being
cooped up with your father is driving me insane. I just need one hour, please?
I’m beggin’ you.”
“Fine, tomorrow at four. How . . . how’s he doing? Your personal
opinion? He really got rid of all his staff?” Relief slumps my shoulders, and I
nod as I rub my mouth with my free hand agitatedly. Glancing over her
slender shoulder at the old geezer, I purse my lips thoughtfully as I roll my
jaw against my palm.
“My personal opinion is he’s faking it,” I mutter lowly, and Annika
stiffens before I shrug carelessly. Her hand in mine grows hot, and she lifts it
before gasping slightly and raking her other hand through her hair. “I don’t
know what to think, Anni. He could be faking it, or he could not be. I’m not
really that interested in picking him apart, mentally, at least. But, yeah, he
dismissed everyone—all his guards, his housekeeper, the guy who weeds the
garden, even his chauffer. I don’t know if he found out that someone sold
information and just got rid of everyone rather than finding out the culprit,
but . . . I really don’t know what to think.”
“If he thought one of his people sold info, he’d kill them, not let them go
with all they know,” Annika mumbles, shuffling foot to foot in agitation
before shaking her head slightly. “I have to get back. I have to pretend to be
sad about Petr.”
“You’re not?” I ask quickly, and Annika arches a brow sourly at me as
hope fills my voice. She releases my hand to poke me in the chest damningly,
but I don’t give a shit at this moment. “I thought you were all about trying to
make the best of it.”
“Well, he was a stranger, essentially, and I don’t have to make the best of
anything anymore. I’m more . . . I guess I feel bad for not feeling bad, but
that’s gonna have to be good enough. Petr is- was the kind of guy girls warn
other girls about,” she admits almost sheepishly, and relief surges through my
veins that she'd finally seen the light at the end of this horrifically long,
winding tunnel. Softly, Marissa steals Annika’s attention, and she nods firmly
before casting me a regretful look. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Yes. Four o’clock.” I feel so stupidly giddy at this moment, but it all
drains away when I notice Petr’s mother glaring at me with an ungodly
hatred. She’d be foaming at the mouth if she wasn’t wearing so much
damned lipstick. I don’t give a shit. I finally had a conversation with Annika,
and even if it was over Petr’s theoretical fucking body . . . No, all the better
that it’s over a casket with his name on it. Fuck that guy to Hell and back. He
truly was a tiny dicked momma’s boy and deserved what he got.
“You look good.” Tearing my gaze off that dusty bat, surprise seizes my
lungs as Marissa eyeballs me steadily. She’s always so calm, it’s creepy, and
I nod as I reach to touch my face absently. “You haven’t been fighting since
the night Petr died. That gives you credibility. But you should remember,
Maxim . . . Bruno’s a liar by trade. He gave you a good bit once, he won’t do
it again. Anything he says, down to complimenting your looks, is a lie.”
“How’d you know about Bruno?” Fuckin’ creepy. Marissa is damned
smart, quiet, like a fucking ninja, and she shrugs lightly before leaving to
walk back to her father. How many pies does she stick her fingers in? I don’t
know, but more important than her knowing was letting me know she knew.
Ugh . . . my head already hurts. “Whatever. I’m so over all the mind games.”
 3

Annika
“You came.” Maxim’s relief slithers up my sternum, and I sit up to smile as
he holds up a huge, juicy cheeseburger. My mouth waters and he moves to sit
on the picnic table rather than at it before handing me the heavily loaded
paper boat. “I was worried you wouldn’t show up. Your dad went a little nuts
last night at the wake.”
“Yeah, well, Petr’s mother made it easy,” I grumble as embarrassment
from last night continues to crawl up my spine, and Maxim arches a brow and
grunts quizzically. “She kept trying to say I should still join their family.
Essentially marry Petr despite him being dead. It was so cringy. She even
suggested I marry her younger son, who’s fifteen, by the way. She kept
referring to me as her daughter-in-law, that Petr’s death didn’t change the fact
that we were supposed to get married . . . it was horrifying.”
“You look good, Anni,” Maxim admits, reaching to finger a lock of my
hair, and I look up at him as warmth blazes from his eyes. A familiar warmth,
a comforting warmth. “You don’t look so tired . . . so drained. Remember the
last time we were here?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know my dad, you know, like, sequestered you. I thought
. . .” My mouth dries, and Maxim caresses my cheek gently with his knuckles
as guilt tightens my chest. “I don’t know what I thought. I thought you were
ignoring me. After the last couple of weeks, I feel like everything’s so . . .
wrong. Like things are just upside down and backward. Twenty years, you’ve
never ignored me unless you had no choice, and—”
 “Anni, I get it. I don’t blame you after the time you’ve had. If I had to
marry an abusive asshole with my dad breathing down my neck about people
trying to kill me from the shadows, my place gets broken into and ransacked,
and then the girl I’m marrying shows up dead,” he pauses as distaste twists
his expression. Maxim shakes his head, and relief eases the incredible tension
between my shoulders. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter how much
bullshit the stress makes you say. Everyone says things they don’t mean, and
like you said, we’ve been friends for over twenty years. I know when you just
blurt stuff out. You don’t have to feel worse than you already do.”
“If you’re here, who’s with my dad?” Heat blossoms in my chest at
Maxim’s declaration, and I change the subject before picking up my loaded
burger. When was the last time I was truly hungry? No, this churning in my
stomach . . . is ravenous. The world narrows around this beautiful
cheeseburger with fried onions and pickles and all the glorious juice from the
beef dribbling down my fingers in mere seconds.
Closing my eyes as I open my mouth, I groan loudly as I take my first
bite of freedom. This cheeseburger is the beginning of my life, not the life my
father tried to force on me. Through luck and universal forces, I . . . am free.
For the first time in weeks, I can taste what’s in my mouth. The burger juices,
the pickles, and the salt washing away the wretched, disgusting taste of Petr’s
kiss.
All those horrible words I’d spewed. All that nastiness that stained my
tongue. All the scowls and grimaces that twisted my lips. It all gets swept
away on a wave of thick grease that coats my entire mouth. My eyes sting
when I crack them open, and I chew very slowly, savoring. Cold droplets—
cold compared to the dribbling down my inner wrists—splash on my fingers,
and my throat and chest burn. Grabbing the soda in front of me, I struggle to
gulp properly, and pain grips my upper torso through to my jaw. Craning my
neck, I almost choke as the glob clogs my throat, but I manage to swallow the
entire bite. Ice cold soda prickles down to my stomach with invisible needles.
“Who knew you’d be so happy with the burger you’d cry,” Maxim says
softly, a tiny twinge of humor under the strain in his tone, and I sniffle
harshly as I wipe my eyes with my shirt sleeve. I sit back to gasp for air, my
chest throbbing painfully, but the pain is good. My hands shake around my
cheeseburger, and Maxim pops open his salad with a little sigh of his own.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone with a salad.”
“I can taste it . . . you . . . you don’t know how good it is, Max . . . to taste
it,” I mumble, and Maxim puts his hand on my head firmly and comfortingly.
Delicious shivers race down my spine, and I lean to the side to rest my cheek
on his outer thigh. His smell wafts into my nostrils, so familiar, and he pushes
my hair back before speaking up.
“No one’s with your father right now. Even if I was there, he said
explicitly to not bother him until exactly five-thirty. If he wanted someone to
watch him sleep, he should’ve kept someone besides me around. He really
means the whole twenty-four seven bull shit, too. I might just kill him myself
if he wakes me up at three a.m. to scream at me.” Chuckling at his own
exasperation, Maxim clears his throat as I take another bite of my burger, a
smaller, but just as satisfying bite. “I’m losing my mind with him. He refuses
to give me a single second by myself. The only time I leave his house is to go
to his fuckin’ office downtown. I can’t have my phone or a laptop. I feel like
a fuckin’ grounded teenager.”
“Just leave him. He’ll figure it out,” I mumble around my mouthful, and
Maxim sighs as both of us know how ridiculous my suggestion is. “If only,
huh?”
“Yeah, I’d rather be shoveling shit than listen to him say one more time
that someone’s out to kill him.” I snort a wry laugh before swallowing more
easily, and Maxim’s salad crunches in my ear as he stabs pieces of lettuce.
“How’ve you been, Annika? For real? Have you fixed up your apartment or
anything?”
“I’m better today than I was yesterday,” I admit, and Maxim hums softly
in acknowledgment as I stare at a bead of grease rolling down my arm.
Ducking my head to lick it up, I sigh in pure happiness at the explosion of
flavor on my tongue. “I picked up a little, but I thought you ran away, so I
just . . . kinda . . . wallowed in it. I love that apartment. I want to fix it, I just .
. . I don’t even know why I didn’t do anything about the holes in the walls,
and the floors, and the kitchen and stuff.”
“I’ll talk to your father and tell him to fuck off, and we can fix the place
ourselves. I was worried you were sulkin’, but I didn’t know how to approach
you about it since everyone thought I killed Petr,” Maxim declares boldly,
and I chuckle lightly before he continues. His voice is soothing, and I take a
bite of my burger as his tone darkens. “They thought you told me to do it. Or
I did it on my own. Either way, I don’t think there was any way around being
separated for a while, waiting for the dust to clear, Annika. I just wish I
could’ve explained first. Now that Petr’s family is going back to Russia,
though, there’s no reason to let your dad keep me tied up in the basement.”
“Are you gonna come back with me or go back to my dad’s first?” I ask,
fully aware of how loaded my question is. My father is on a power trip now,
and he could easily kill Maxim for disobeying him, especially when he had
no one else. Firing all his staff is worrisome, and I grab my soda as the
silence stretches into discomfort.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go back. Your dad is backing himself into a
corner, and I’m the only person around to take that panic and frustration out
on. For now, Anni, I think we’re gonna have to deal with it for a while. Even
if he’s faking whatever is going on with him, I think it’s dangerous to make
him feel like he’s got no one.” But sympathy is strangely absent from
Maxim’s tone, or not so strange, considering my father is holding him
hostage. He speaks matter-of-factly, and his firm tone consolidates the
emotions roiling in my chest, “I don’t want him going after you. Then I’d
have to kill him, and the last thing you need right now is that.”
“I know it’s all for show, but what I don’t get is why.” Pausing to lift my
head, I set down my cheeseburger to wipe my hands with napkins that
immediately dissolve. My mind flashes back to last night’s wake and all the
horrible scenes that I’d watched or even been dragged into. “Why was Petr’s
mother so insistent? Why haven’t they left yet? It’s been two weeks, and
Petr’s body isn’t even in the States anymore, so why is his mother still here?
Even his father went back to Russia.”
“I’ll try to find some answers, but I can’t promise anything. It’s clear that
bitch is the one calling the shots, though,” Maxim’s determination straightens
my spine, calms my nerves, and I smile gratefully at him as he shovels a
forkful of salad into his mouth. Being here with him reminds me of what
things used to be like just a few weeks ago. Was it really only a few weeks
that this nightmare had overtaken my entire life? “I want you to understand
that you’re my only priority, Anni. Not your dad, not your sisters, just you.
Unfortunately, right now, that means leaving you on your own for a little
while, but you’re a capable person.”
“Is that just a polite way of calling me a stubborn bitch?” Maxim throws
his head back and laughs a full belly laugh at my combatant question, and he
nudges me with his elbow with a smile of pleasure on his face.
“Shut up, you. It is not. I think you’re extremely capable, Annika.” My
own mirth escapes me even with the seriousness in Maxim’s tone, and he
borderline glares at me despite his smirk. “We’re gonna meet up again here?
In a week? Same time?”
“Yeah. Wednesday at four,” I agree, and Maxim nods, satisfied before we
continue to eat in silence. Is this how it has to be? My father’s paranoia
poisoning even my relationship with Maxim. The one thing in my life that
hadn’t changed in twenty years. He can’t even stand by me anymore.
 4

Maxim
Rubbing my temples as a fierce ache attacks my eye sockets, I drop heavily
onto my own sofa and stretch out my legs. For the first time in almost three
weeks, I’m in my own home, and I relish it as I grab a pillow and shove my
face into it. “Fu-u-uck . . . yeah.”
It might not be a fancy couch with cupholders or seats that recline, but it
is mine, and I’m glad to be sitting in it. Kicking off my boots, I prop my feet
on the coffee table, fold my arms behind my head, and sigh in comfortable
satisfaction as I sink into the seat. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so glad to be home. I
missed this place.”
Fishing my phone out of my jeans’ pocket, I hold the power button to turn
it on, and excitement flows through my veins. That crusty bastard didn’t even
hand me the thing until we were parked in front of my apartment. In a fuckin’
Uber. He’d rather risk his life with a stranger than someone he knows
personally.
This paranoia's going to take him out harder and faster than any bullet,
and I tense when my phone starts vibrating furiously in my palm. So many
messages from Annika pop up on my screen, and I clench my jaw as I
hesitate to tap on the text thread. We’d spoken just two days ago, and
nervousness over her wild emotions the two weeks before fills me with dread.
Dozens and dozens of texts flood my phone screen, but before I touch the
chat, a message from Bruno pops up underneath Annika’s.
“Bruno,” I mumble unhappily, and Marissa’s warning blazes behind my
eyes when I blink. He’s a liar, yeah, but at this moment, he’s also a client,
and I call him swiftly before doubt stops me. “Hey, sorry about being
unreachable.”
“Yeah, I heard the old man fired everyone, and you’ve been babysitting
him alone. I was surprised you put up with that shit. How’s the Tsarina? She
dodged a heart-seeking bullet, there, huh?” Bruno sounds exactly the same as
always, and despite knowing he’s a fuckin’ snake, relief slumps my
shoulders. “We gotta have a meeting, you and me. I’ve been takin’ notes
from this guy I set you up with.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d want me to pay for them,” I say aloud what he
wouldn’t, and Bruno chuckles uncomfortably over the line. “It’s okay.
Really. Honestly, I’m just glad to be back home and hear someone else’s
voice for once. Talk about something other than paranoid delusions.”
“I take it you wanna sleep in your own bed and shower in your own
bathroom? We can meet up later this week. Security for this party is pretty
standard. So, for real. . . how’s the girl?” Bruno asks, and I hold my breath as
anticipation weaves through my veins. “I’ve been hearing things, Maxim.
About Petr’s death. That’s all I can say, but you need to watch her back.”
“You lyin’ to me, Bruno?” I ask outright, sitting up as the hairs on the
back of my neck bristle. “Because you and I have known each other a long
time, and I know how much you don’t like Annika.”
“Yeah, yeah. I may not like her, but you do, and I’m not telling you
anything you don’t already know, Maxim,” Bruno says gravely, a thick
thread of genuine concern in his tone, and I cover my mouth with my
knuckles. “I’ve told you before, man. We’re co-workers in different
departments, but I do like you. I want to work with you successfully when the
old man finally croaks. I know you’re suspicious of me because I’m not a fan
of your lady friend. But I can only say ‘personal don’t interfere with
business’ so many times. If you don’t wanna believe me, that’s your problem,
but I’m not gonna make another offer like this.
“I also wanna point out that I was right,” he continues, not a lick of self-
righteousness in his tone as I clench and release my jaw agitatedly. “Petr’s
dead, Maxim, and therefore, there is no wedding. I don’t want any more
involvement in this. But I feel like I gotta look out for you because you’re so
fucking dense and narrow-minded when it comes to Annika. You’re a great
guy, and I feel like you’d be a great business associate, but when I tell you
that I hear whispers, I want you to listen to me, not doubt me, Maxim. You’re
not a fucking idiot, okay, and I’m not stupid enough to think brains trump
brawn in this business.”
Sourness clings to my inner cheeks at the truth that rings in Bruno’s
words. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I cup my chin as my thoughts ping-
pong off my skull. Biting back a groan, I duck my head and cover my eyes
with my hand. “Don’t make me regret this, Bruno. I’ll see ya tomorrow at
one?”
“Works for me.” I hang up as frustration tightens my throat, and I toss my
phone onto the coffee table carelessly. Scowling darkly, my conversation
with Bruno circles ruts into my brain. Why should I listen to Marissa now
despite never listening to her before?
At least, with Bruno, I knew where I stood with the guy. Marissa's just a
shadow on the edge of my vision, always there, but only barely. For her to
just warn me about Bruno the way she did was suspicious. Does she not want
us working together? It’s a little late for that.
“It’s the only thing I can think of that makes sense, though,” I mutter,
shaking my head before my phone buzzes insistently once again. Snatching
the device to check the text message, surprise knits my brows before tapping
the ‘call’ button. “Anni, hey. I just turned my phone back on and sat down in
my own apartment.”
“Good, yeah, um, I’m outside. Can you open the door?” Standing up
swiftly, I hold my phone to my ear as I walk around the sofa, and Annika
smiles awkwardly. The air rushes from my lungs in a gasp, my heart leaping
into my throat as I wrap my arms around her and lift her off her feet in a big
bear hug. My phone drops to the floor haphazardly, but I don’t care when her
arms slither around my shoulders. Cupping the back of her head tightly, I
take a huge breath of her smell and hold it. “M-Max, it hurts, too tight.”
“Shit.” Gingerly, I lower her to her feet. I smile broadly at her fierce
blush and the happiness shining in her eyes. Scanning Annika from top to
bottom shrewdly, appreciation bangs against the backs of my eyes. “You look
so good, Anni.”
“I missed you. I was worried we were gonna be sneaking around forever.
How’d you get my dad to let you go?” Her sheepish revelation sends an ache
through my cheeks, and I gesture her into my apartment as I rake both my
hands through my hair roughly. Snatching my phone off the floor, I turn on
the screen just to make sure it isn’t cracked as I shut the door behind her.
Expectancy floods my living room, and I nod and clear my throat before
answering.
“Basically, I just told him I was going back home. That I might be his
employee, but he was treating me like a slave, and I was done. He started
screaming about threats and how I’m just a meat shield.” I wince at the sharp
look Annika shoots me, rubbing the back of my neck at how bad it sounds
now. “I told him to find someone else and walked out. During his angry
temper tantrum, he did say some interesting stuff about Petr and his family,
though.”
“He called me,” she confesses, and surprise raises my brows as I drop
onto the sofa heavily once again. Annika sits next to me, flopping against my
side, and my eyelids flutter closed in bliss and relief. “He said you abandoned
him and all this crazy stuff. I was really upset about him insulting you up,
down, and sideways, and I yelled at him that he can’t treat people like that.
But he started rambling about me moving back home with my mom and my
sisters and getting ‘real’ security.”
“Oh, what’d you say to that? I would think it’d be a good idea until your
apartment is fixed up if I didn’t know better,” I mumble sluggishly, and
Annika slips out of her shoes to pull her legs up over my lap. Throwing
herself across the couch, she blusters a massive sigh through her lips.
“I told him I was worried about him, and if he really thought he was in
danger, why bring everyone to the same place? Then we’re all fish in a barrel.
But he just started going on about Petr’s mom setting us up. That she was a
traitor and a snake, and she couldn’t be trusted. You know, for someone
that’s suspicious of everyone, my dad puts a lot of trust in people that don’t
deserve it,” Annika grumbles lowly at the end, and I can’t help but chuckle at
the thread of rationale. Guilt beats against my brow, but I ignore it easily. I’m
home, and an old man’s delusions aren’t my problem. “He started going on
about the net closing, and the only person he could trust with me was you and
some other stuff I didn’t really get. Which . . . I mean, he just threw a tantrum
about not trusting you . . . I know you think he’s faking it, but I’m seriously
worried, Maxim.”
“Yeah, it’s really out of character for him to call me a meat shield. I know
he doesn’t exactly like me, but I’ve been . . .” I pause as those forbidden
words balance on the tip of my tongue, and I clench and release my jaw when
trouble knits my brows. “I’ve been by your side for so long, for him to just
pull me away like that and leave you with no one . . . maybe you’re right, and
he’s not faking it.”
 “I don’t know if I’ll have a choice but to go back,” Annika murmurs
quietly, and I look over at her splayed out on my sofa. She is so pretty, even
in just sweatpants and a tank top, and she frowns at the ceiling. “If I don’t,
and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. And we’re so weak
right now, Maxim. I might even have to call Ivan back from Russia if things
keep getting worse.”
“Ivan? That’s a name I haven’t heard in years,” That’s right. It’s been so
long since anyone talked about Annika’s brother. I forget she has one. “Your
dad sent him to Russia when he was eighteen, and then . . . he just kinda
faded from existence, huh?”
“I know Mom talks to him sometimes, but, yeah, basically.” Guilt
dribbles thickly from her tone, and I grip Annika’s feet to rub them absently.
She sort of deflates out of the corner of my eye, but her voice is strong when
she continues listlessly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“You wanna sleep with me tonight?” The question slips out before I can
stop it, and my mouth dries as Annika lifts her head in surprise. Frantically,
my mind races, and I grind my molars in the shocked silence as more and
more color floods her long face. “Remember way back in middle school? My
dad sent me to overnight camp, and every Sunday when I came back, we’d
lay down together and talk about what happened while we were apart. It’s
been two and a half weeks, and I-I honestly . . . am not okay. And I know
you’re not okay, either Anni.”
“O-okay,” Annika says after a long, long, torturously long silence, and I
manage a weak smile when she lowers her head. Rubbing her feet
mindlessly, I stare at her for a moment before reaching to grab the remote
control to the television. “It’s so hard to remember that this misery isn’t my
life.”
 5

Annika
Climbing out of my car in the parking lot of my favorite park, I ruffle my hair
before pulling it into a bun in the steadily rising heat. Oh, no, it’s not hot out .
. . I’m hot. Fire engulfs my cheeks and threatens to melt my organs as
memories beat against the backs of my eyes. Of waking up next to Maxim.
Of being fully clothed but feeling so naked.
Sweat beads down my neck as I put on a pair of sunglasses, trying to
stifle the brightness that lit up around me. Inhaling a shallow breath, I hold it
to stop my lungs from collapsing under the intense emotions rampaging
between my ribs. Maxim’s relaxed, even peaceful, expression as he'd slept
plays against the lenses of my sunglasses, and I drop my keys suddenly in
embarrassment.
I just wanted to touch him. I’d never noticed before . . . his strong jaw,
how handsome he is with stubble. How long his eyelashes are. Oh, Jesus,
help me. Bending to snatch up my keys with hot hands, I shoulder my purse
roughly and struggle to breathe. The air just intensifies the fire storm in my
chest, and I gulp harshly on my way toward the sidewalk.
“God, just smite me now, please,” I mumble, covering my eyes with my
hand and ducking my head. “It’s not like Maxim … I mean, he’s my best
friend. I can’t think he’s hot.”
Oh, no . . . Inhaling a shuddering breath through trembling lips, I can only
see Maxim when I blink through the years. When we first met, the first day of
first grade, in his little, tiny knit vest and the adorable way his mother had
done his hair that day. My heart throbs with each beat as memories race
behind my lids as I walk sluggish and distractedly toward a farmers’ market.
“What if he’s in love with me?” The horror of my own utterance drags a
tortured laugh from my throat, and I rub my chest as it tightens dangerously.
Maxim . . . in love with me? There’s no way. We’re just friends; he would
shoot his shot if he felt like he had a chance, and I—
No, I don’t think he would, actually. Max would rather keep our solid
friendship than risk a romance. Blustering a sigh, I pause my shuffling to
flop my head back and groan, stomping my heel on the concrete childishly.
How many times did I just brush away the feeling that he was skirting the
line? That the things he said and did were odd?
“I’m gonna drive myself insane.” Just as the murmur escapes me, my
phone vibrates in my purse, and I jump with a nervous squawk. Fishing out
the device, relief slumps my shoulders when it’s not Maxim, but the respite
doesn’t last as I answer my dad’s call. “Hey, Dad. I’m just—just at the
farmers’ market right now. What’s up?”
“Annika.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristle at my father’s vicious
whisper, and I start off down the sidewalk with mixed emotions battering my
chest. Worry seeps from my pores, but at least my father’s erraticism is a
distraction from Maxim. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What, Dad?” I ask, trepidation crawling up my spine as realization digs
in between my lungs. He’s not okay. Concern knits my brows when my father
doesn’t answer, and I sweep back my hair absently. “Dad? What do you need
me for?”
“What? How’d you know that’s why I’m calling?” I wince at my father’s
genuine alarm, and my heart sinks. “It doesn’t matter. I need you to come
back home, Annika. You’re not safe out there by yourself.”
“Dad, Maxim is with me, remember?” The fine hairs on my cheek prickle
when my dad starts cursing up a storm, and I pause at the edge of the
farmers’ market to pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m gonna just buy some
stuff, and I’ll come by in a little bit, okay? Who’s with you right now?”
“The Romanovs are here,” he whispers frantically, and I straighten with a
sharp inhale before my father’s side of the line crackles horribly.
“I’m here, Anni,” Marissa says quietly, and faintly, my dad starts
rambling about the NKVD in Russian in the background. “It just started when
Dad realized Maxim isn’t here right now. No one is here, but me and Tatiana.
Mama said it’s been getting worse and more frequent. She needed a break
from him.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in, like, forty-five minutes,” I declare tiredly, not
really wanting to deal with my dad’s failing mind. For so long, it’d been
hinted at, but I never expected him to be sick. Hanging up with Marissa, I
navigate to Maxim’s contact and hold my phone to my ear with my shoulder.
He answers before the third ring, and I clear my throat roughly. “My dad’s
having another episode. He just called me and told me the Romanovs are
after him, Maxim. He started ranting about the NKVD.”
“Uh, what?” Maxim asks dumbly, and I snort, shaking my head as I
wander down the tables set up with various vegetables and fruit. “Is anyone
there with him?”
“My sisters, yeah. I have to go to the house after I check out here. I just
wanted to call and let you know.” A disturbing sound comes across the line,
and I nod in agreement before the silence stretches into discomfort. Grabbing
a bunch of cherry heirloom tomatoes, I hold my breath in anticipation. “A-
about last night . . . I really appreciate you letting me sleep over.”
“I really appreciate you taking me up on my offer. The fuck does that
even mean, Anni? You’re my best friend, and you’ve had a shit time of
everything. I just want you to be happy.” Despite his harsh words, Maxim’s
tone is soft and warm, and I bite my bottom lip hard as butterflies flutter in
my abdomen. “I dunno what you want me to say.”
“You always say exactly what I need to hear. I don’t know what I’d do
without you, Max,” I admit, and fire engulfs my face as I inhale sharply and
hold the tomatoes in the crook of my arm to fumble in my purse. “Thank you
for being . . . amazing.”
“I’d do anything for you, Anni. I’m gonna head over to your parents’
place. I’ll meet you there?”
“Okay, sure. I wanna talk to you about something, too. I’ll see ya in a
little bit.” Awkwardness skitters between my shoulder blades before we hang
up, and I hand the salesperson a bill and wave off change. Wandering to the
next stall flooded with lettuce, a plan slowly forms in my mind for lunch, and
a slight smirk stretches my lips. “Maxim loves salads . . . or maybe just the
soup he turns a salad into with the dressing.”
Maxim, Maxim, Maxim, even in the face of my father’s failing mind, all I
can think of is Maxim. Rocking back on my heels as I wait for my lettuce to
be bagged, I look down the line of stalls searchingly.
My armful of groceries drags me down as I make my way to my car.
Alarm bells ring in my head, and caution slows my pace. I pause when I
notice someone standing in front of my car. The man wears a plain, white
button-down and pale slacks, but something about him seems familiar. He
has no facial hair, but I can’t place where I’ve seen him before.
“Excuse me,” I call out sternly, and dull, brown eyes swing to meet mine
as I reach my vehicle. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, no. Sorry. I’m considering getting this make and model for my
daughter for her first car,” he says smoothly, and suspicion sticks my tongue
to the roof of my mouth when he smiles at me. Not the slightest hint of
embarrassment lilts his tone, and he scans me briefly before turning back to
my car. “You mind if I ask a couple questions about performance?”
“Yes, I do. I have to get going, but you can Google the car.” Holding my
breath as my heart hammers against my ribs, I round my car to put some
distance between us. The guy just stands there, watching me, staring at my
vehicle critically, and irritation sharpens my tone. “Can you go away? I told
you I do mind, and you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Have a nice day.” Walking down the sidewalk toward
the farmers’ market, the man leaves me confused and worried. The way he
carries himself stings my eyes, and I unlock my car as I struggle to figure out
where I recognize him from. From Petr’s funeral? Or maybe one of the
meetings I had with Petr and his parents?
Setting the groceries in the back seat of my car, I glance over my shoulder
to find that man stopped and looking in my direction. I purse my lips thinly
as I shut the door, trying to ignore the intense gaze on my back. Rounding the
front of my car, I climb into the driver’s seat to sit there and hold the wheel in
clammy hands. Where did I see that guy before? Come on, brain, work!
 6

Maxim
The old man paces his office, muttering furiously to himself. I don’t know
what’s worse, that he thought the NKVD is after him, or he refuses to let me
leave the room. If I look at the door, he blocks it with his old, frail body. I
can simply push him aside, but I know better than to piss off someone
detached from reality.
“Knock, knock, Dad?” Relief surges through me when Annika sticks her
head into the office, and her father pauses his pacing to gasp. Casting her a
warning look, I purse my lips and clench my jaw as alarm brightens her eyes.
“Everything okay in here?”
“Anni, you’re here. Good. We need to talk.” Gesturing her in with a wave
of his hand, Annika’s father nods as he strokes his chin and jaw thoughtfully.
“I know you have your objections, but I’ve been thinking about your future,
and I’ve been contacted by the Treskov family.”
“Daddy,” Annika says gently when her father pauses to take a breath, and
she holds his biceps firmly to stop his heavy steps. “Dad, Petr Treskov is
dead, remember? He was murdered three weeks ago.”
“What? But we need him. My empire is crumbling, we need him to prop
us up!” Frenetic energy morphs his tone and expression, and he shakes his
head and lifts his arms sharply. “We need to find someone else. You need to
—”
“There is no one else, Daddy,” Annika cuts her father off, and I hold my
breath in anticipation as she shakes her head. His eyes grow bright and wild,
his face reddening, as his daughter stands her ground so proudly. “I’m not
marrying anyone, no matter what you say, do you understand? You’re not
well, Dad. You’re confused, and you think things are real when they’re not.
You need help.”
“What? What?” Offended beyond measure, Annika’s father scoffs
harshly, jerking away from her to shake his head viciously. “How dare you!
You’ll do what I say when I say, damnit! You’re my daughter! I raised you!
You will do right by this family! I don’t care if I have to force you! No
daughter of mine is going to ruin my name and openly defy me, not when
we’re in such a precarious position! Don’t you dare force me to do something
I’ll regret, because you want to be a selfish bitch and not accept
responsibility!”
“Excuse me?” My pride in Annika only grows more intense as she keeps
her cool, her dark, dank tone bringing her father back down to Earth. I can
see how much his outburst hurts her, and she takes a step forward to force
him back. His thin, sinewy body trembles wildly, and anxiety pools in my gut
as he pales dangerously, falling onto the sofa. Staring at his daughter with
wide eyes and an open mouth, he looks gaunt and vapid in Annika’s shadow.
“You’re not in your right mind, but that isn’t an excuse to threaten me. You
sit there and think about what you’ve said. I’m gonna go make lunch.”
“Annika, hang on a sec’,” Following her out of the office, I grab Annika’s
forearm to stop her storming off furiously. Her face turns a deep red, eyes
watering as she blusters an unstable sigh, and sympathy bombards my chest.
“Are you gonna be okay? That wasn’t a great first conversation.”
“I-I just . . . think I’m gonna need a lot of breaks,” she admits with a
noticeable strain in her tone, and I purse my lips thinly in agitation. “He’s
clearly not faking that . . . even if it might’ve seemed that way with the
paranoia and stuff. My dad would never say that to me.”
“This isn’t just on you, Anni. There’s no shame in not wanting to deal
with this by yourself, because I know that Marissa and Tatiana aren’t gonna
stick around too,” I say comfortingly, and Annika’s face screws up in disgust
as she immediately shakes her head. “Anni, you don’t owe him anything for
the unfortunate fact that he’s your dad. Just because he’s unstable now
doesn’t mean he hasn’t done more than his fair share of shit to you that’s
borderline unforgivable.”
“I can’t do that. My dad isn’t going to cooperate, and even if he did,”
concern deepens the lines around her mouth, and Annika glances over her
shoulder warily, “with everything going on, the last thing I need to deal with
is my dad’s mental health becoming a topic of interest. He was right about
one thing, Maxim—we’re not as strong as the other Russian families, and
they probably already have their suspicions.”
“Annika, you don’t have to be afraid of him anymore,” I state gently, and
Annika looks at me in alarm as I hold her shoulders firmly. “Your dad can’t
threaten you with anything. You should get a diagnosis to avoid him trying
anything or anyone taking advantage of him, but he can’t threaten you like he
did when you were engaged to Petr. He can’t do shit to you.”
“I am not afraid of him. If anything, all this crap with Petr made me
realize that. That he can’t do anything to me, and his threats are just threats.
But I can’t just pay off a doctor and ship him to the looney bin, Maxim,” she
steams unhappily, and I open my mouth to refute only for her to hold up a
hand sharply. “No, I’ll handle it. I- I can find someone else to help me if
you’re not gonna. We cannot let this get out.”
“That’s not what I mean, Anni,” I start, but she turns away from me as
frustration crawls up my throat. Heading down the hallway toward the stairs,
Annika’s shoulders nearly clog her ears, and I rub my hand down my face in
agitation. “Ah, fuck me. Anni! I can’t stay much longer. I have a meeting I
can’t miss.”
“That’s fine! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my dad for a couple
hours!” Shouting over her shoulder, Annika stomps down the stairs, and I
sigh harshly in irritation. Glancing at the clock on my phone, I suck my teeth
before heading back into the old man’s office. Just last night, Annika was all
about not dealing with her father, and now . . .
“This fuckin’ sucks.” Grumbling on the way through the threshold, I
pause when I notice the crusty bastard pacing the back of his desk again. He
stops when he notices me, and I hold my breath as anticipation races through
my veins. Confusion brightens his eyes, milky with age, and he gestures at
me with a flick of his wrist.
“Shut the door. It’s good you’re here. How’s Annika dealing with moving
back home?” Christ, kill me now. “I told her last night she has to come back,
that we can’t be seen as disjointed or weak. Not with Petr’s death looming
over us and his mother snooping around trying to find reasons to wage war
on us.” He sounds lucid, as much as one can mumbling about mafia plots and
clandestine war. Maybe, Annika’s snippiness knocked him back into reality?
Not that it matters. He’s losing his mind. “Maxim? Are you that stupid you
don’t understand the implications of what I’m saying?”
Oh, yeah, he’s lucid enough. Scowling darkly at him, I catch the old
man’s eyes to glare hotly. “You think I’m so stupid. Dismiss me like you did
all your other staff? I’ll gladly go and leave you unprotected, you crotchety,
old bastard.”
“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. Someone was selling my secrets, and I
didn’t know who. Unfortunately for you, you don’t know anything, so you’re
my bodyguard now,” he snarls at me, and I roll my eyes with a scoff before
he sits imposingly at his desk and braces his palms against the top. So, he
knows about Bruno? Was that why Marissa had tried to warn me off?
Because he'd asked her to? “So? Get to it! I’m not paying you to stand
around and stare at me!”
“You don’t pay me enough for that shit, anyway,” I snipe back under my
breath, but if he hears me, he doesn’t say anything as I storm out of his office.
Just being around him for an hour, he infects everyone like a fucking plague.
Stuffing my hands into my jeans' pockets, I head down to the first floor to
find Marissa and Annika in the kitchen, and I catch the younger of the two’s
eyes firmly. “Why’d you tell me at the funeral that Bruno’s a liar? Did your
dad put you up to it?”
“Yeah. Why would I care about you or your business?” She winces at
how harsh she sounds, but relief slithers between my shoulder blades at her
immediate confirmation. “Sorry, it’s just . . . my dad knows someone sold
Bruno the information about the wedding. And you and I have nothing to do
with each other, so he thought you’d be more inclined to listen to me. I don’t
get why, it’s not like Petr was lacking in the enemy department himself.”
“Why didn’t he kill all his staff if one of them betrayed him?” Annika
asks worriedly, ripping open the mesh lining of one of the boxes of tomatoes
to dump them into the sink. My mouth waters and I reach around her to pluck
one out. For a brief moment, her mock glare and swat remind me of the way
things used to be, and she nudges me away with her elbow. “You know I
haven’t even washed them yet, Maxim.”
“I think he just forgot,” Marissa cuts into my moment with Annika, and I
pop the tomato into my mouth to lean on the counter. The drone of the sink
faucet dulls my thoughts, and Anni frowns as she tumbles the colander and
its contents silently. “Obviously, this goes beyond his normal paranoia, but
Petr’s death makes things very, very complicated. He was murdered by
someone we haven’t identified, we don’t know how or why. Considering just
the day before, Anni’s place was destroyed . . . I think it’s more than likely
that person or people are after us.”
“But Petr was the one that died,” Anni combats, and I nod as I reach to
grab a handful of tomatoes. They’re beautiful, all different colors, and I lick
my lips hungrily.
“Yeah, but only after your apartment got broken into. And I think that
whoever did it was probably waiting there a while for you and him, but then
Maxim showed up. Even on his worst day, Maxim can usually win in hand-
to-hand combat.” My pride can’t bubble between my ribs at the implication
of Marissa’s words, and she catches my gaze strongly. “Whoever broke in
was still there when you went into the apartment.”
The silence is heavy, the atmosphere bristling with electricity as I look
over at Annika, her face pale and gaunt as she stares into the sink unfocused.
Thinking back to that night, I can’t remember feeling or seeing anything out
of the ordinary. Aside from the fact that her apartment was destroyed. But
even then, someone hiding and lying in wait, doesn’t make sense to me, and I
shake my head. “No, that’s a dumb idea. If someone was waiting to jump out
and kill her, why didn’t they when she was alone? And the way everything
was, I got the sense they were looking for something, not just mad she wasn’t
home. Whoever it was, knew Anni wouldn’t be home. It had to be someone
from Petr’s side or someone we know who’s close enough to your father to
have a schedule.”
“Do you have a better explanation?” Marissa asks pointedly, and I roll my
eyes with a harsh scoff.
“Yeah, someone wants your family dead,” I say bluntly, and Marissa
finally backs the fuck off. There’s only so far scheming could take her, but
she needs to get her head outta her ass and realize that sometimes . . . the
simplest answer is usually the right one.
 7

Annika
Pushing my salad around my bowl disinterestedly, I stare at the large map of
the city and what little paperwork I could wrangle from my father. The map
is scribbled with markers of different colors, and I hold my cheek on my fist
listlessly. My family’s territory looks the same on the map, but the papers just
inches away prove it’s being shrunk, street by street.
My dad had fired everyone around him. But why? Given the fact that he
just threatened me the way he did, he should’ve simply killed everyone. It’s
not easy to get away with like it used to be, but he knew he was sick and
couldn’t take chances. If anything, he should be more inclined to permanently
silence anyone with any insider knowledge.
“You think up a reason yet?” Tearing my eyes off the map, I shake my
head as Marissa sits next to me to pick up a thin sheath of papers. “Do you
need me to go get more papers?”
“I skimmed through as much as I could and took what I thought was most
relevant, but I had to wrestle Dad for these,” Holding my forehead in my
palm, I bluster a sigh as Marissa casts me a curious look. “He didn’t wanna
give it to me? Like I can’t just go into his office and have all the time in the
world while he takes a nap? So, now, I’m just staring at this stuff waiting for
him to nod off so I can fill in some holes . . . like how Dad sold this empty
building for peanuts to Karavostov four months ago? Did you know about
that?”
“Karavostov? But Dad hates them.” Flipping through the papers, Marissa
frowns under tightly knit brows as I slump back in my chair and sigh.
“I know, and I also know that’s not Dad’s signature, but I can’t even
think of who’s it is. I don’t really know any of his guards. And speaking of
Dad’s ‘friends,’” I curl my fingers sarcastically, my lip twitches in disgust. “I
can’t find them. I did manage to track down Dad’s housekeeper, and she said
Dad went ballistic. Fired anyone he saw, including her, when she was in the
middle of making his bed. Dad was screaming at her about betraying him.
Did she poison him? She’s lucky he doesn’t line everyone up and shoot
them.”
“I can’t get over it, honestly. Dad’s not one to fire someone,” Marissa
mumbles almost to herself, and I grunt in agreement before hunching over
my bowl and forcing myself to eat. “What if someone put him up to it?”
“You know,” chewing furiously, I swallow my mouthful of salad roughly,
and my throat throbs briefly before I look over at my sister. “Why does it
even matter? This is the end of the road, Marissa. Dad’s sick and he’s not
gonna get better. He banished Ivan—refuses to call him his son, but he would
rather die on the side of the street, naked, than let any of us handle the family
business. He fired every person who worked closely with him and he hasn’t
been to his office in weeks. Ever since Petr was murdered, I think.”
“If we did that, the other families would send bloodhounds after us,
Anni.” Dank misery invades my chest, and my little sister frowns at me with
seriousness in her eyes. “Petr was an asshole, but at least he cared enough
about image to know not to beat you half to death and lock you in the
basement like James Ruszchova did.”
“Yeah, that is true,” mumbling quietly, a disturbed shiver races down my
spine. I hold my forehead to keep my thoughts from bursting through my
skull. Ruszchova . . . Karavostov . . . and us, Malkyov. Too many people from
too many directions. “What about the other families? Have you heard
anything?”
“Nothing too interesting, no. I don’t really know who’s behind the murder
or the break-in at your apartment, Anni. Sorry, but we’re basically flying
blind, and the only person who might know something is losing that
information by the day,” Marissa says with a shake of her head, and I groan
softly in foreboding. Stabbing a piece of lettuce, I munch on it unhappily and
stare at the spread in front of me. “Are you gonna call Ivan? If anyone can get
through to Dad, it’s another man. As much as it sucks, we’re just pawns he
made to sign alliance contracts.”
 “I haven’t decided yet. I don’t even know if Dad would recognize Ivan,
it’s been over ten years since he was forced out.” Our conversation grows
quiet as I contemplate Ivan’s departure so many years ago. I was only
fourteen, but my dad acted like I didn’t exist, because I was a girl. All his
attention was on Ivan, and vivid memories blossom in my mind’s eye of the
moment Ivan left.
They'd constantly fought about Ivan going to Russia, he and our father.
Except, he went there and never came back. Said he wouldn’t step foot on
American soil until our dad was dead and buried. Over the years, I'd
wondered if my dad even knew if his only son was still alive. He surely
seemed to think Ivan was an only child when we were young.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” I reiterate with a heavy sigh, looking
over at Marissa as she sets down the sheath of papers, “but whatever it is, it’s
gotta be done quick. Dad has never allowed me to handle this kinda business
crap, so it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that I don’t know how to do it. But I
have to try. Even if I end up calling Ivan, it won’t be until it’s the last resort.”
“If you wait, it might just be a second too long, though, Annika,” Marissa
states thoughtfully, worriedly, but I shrug off her concern with a harsh snort.
“What will you do then?”
“If they take us down . . . we won’t be worth the effort anymore, and I’ll
flee to some densely populated western city where no one knows me. I mean,
I have enough money to last me the rest of my life,” I reply flippantly, and
Marissa scowls at me darkly as betrayal flares in her eyes, but I only roll my
own again. “Don’t look at me like you’re not gonna do the same thing. The
Russian mob has been nothing but terrible to us. This is like cosmic karma,
and Dad uses us as broodmares. Even Mom said before that it was a shame
he let us ‘go to waste’ when you’re obviously smart, and I’m very obviously
not dumb.”
“Good, you know the difference,” Marissa snipes, half playful, half upset,
but I ignore her to pop a cherry tomato into my mouth. She sighs hotly, and
we both know we can argue about our better qualities all day and never get
anywhere. Changing the subject swiftly, Marissa’s tone still lilts bitter.
“Petr’s mother is still here. What should we do about her?”
“I’d ask her if I thought she would tell me the truth. She still seems stuck
on merging the families, whether it’s because she knows we’re weak and
wants to take over, or because she thinks we’re strong and wants some of that
power . . . it really doesn’t matter,” I inhale deeply and hold my breath, my
heart slowing as my thoughts speed up. “I’m not putting up with her, though.
If we’re battling the twin tyrannies of mental degradation and peer pressure,
I’m putting my foot down. Not even to prove to Dad I can do it, because I
know I probably can’t . . . but because I gotta do something, or I’ll end up
with some nasty feelings at myself.”
“I’ll help how I can, but at the first concrete sign of trouble, I’m gone,
Anni,” Marissa declares, and I nod in understanding even as shadows play
behind my eyes. “If you’re not confident we can ride this out somehow . . . if
Ivan refuses to come back, and it looks like we’re just dumping buckets out
of a sinking ship, I’m sorry, but I’m out.”
“I don’t blame you. Can you set up a contingency plan for Lana? She’s
only twelve. She can’t be left alone,” I ask hopefully, and Marissa frowns
deeply with a curt nod. My heart aches. My dad acts like Lana doesn’t exist,
the same way we didn’t as children. Until we were old enough to be married.
Until we were useful. “Maybe Maxim’s right, and I am afraid of Dad. Of
what Dad expects me to do. This isn’t all that different from forcing me to
marry Petr.”
“If you don’t wanna do it, then don’t, Anni. Dad’s gonna be disappointed
with you either way,” I feel so conflicted, and Marissa doesn’t make it any
better with her solemn words. “You just said it’s about you, not Dad. I don’t
think there’s a winning solution here for any of us. I think we can only lose.
Especially if Petr’s mother keeps trying to push. She’s got a lot of influence
in Russia.”
“We’re not in Russia, thankfully.” Our conversation stalls, not that it’s
going anywhere, anyway. My sister and I just talk in circles, not particularly
getting anything achieved. Really, it’s just bitching. Buzzing and lighting up
on the table, my phone trills insistently with a number not programmed into
it, and I snatch the device to hold it to my ear. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Annika Malkyov? Petr’s will is being read in two days, and you’ve been
named as a recipient,” an unfamiliar, male voice filters through my phone
speaker, and I stiffen as goosebumps blanket my arms and torso. “We’re
going to be reading it at Highland Park Memorial Services at three p.m. on
Thursday.”
“He left me something in his will? That doesn’t sound right. What is it?” I
pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “I thought the will reading was the
same day as the wake, it’s been almost three weeks, and his body isn’t even
in the country anymore. What the Hell is going on?”
 “No, sorry, his mother requested we wait as she was too distraught at the
time to listen. I understand this is only adding to your distress, but for
recipients, attendance is strongly suggested.” Hanging up politely, I stare
wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at my phone screen as disbelief clogs my
throat. A will reading? Am I trapped in a fucking nightmare?
Tossing my phone haphazardly onto the table with a harsh scoff, I smack
my cheeks with both my hands to rattle my brain in my skull. “Are you
kidding me!”
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