Chapter 8

Eight

LIVIA

Shuffling away, I leave his firm body and his intoxicating woody scent. His eyes are so deep, I almost drown. From his resounding voice, my bones vibrate. My pussy feels so empty at this moment, thinking about how thick he could fill me up.

Raising one of his eyebrows, he smirks, knowing he’s got me. Max’s lips spread wider into a beautiful smile that makes me want to run back into his arms, but I don’t. I clear my throat and narrow my eyes.

“I’ll set up the meeting. Give me your phone.” My palm opens impatiently, waving in the air for him to hand it over.

“No way. Just tell me your number, and I’ll text you.”

A thick sigh leaves my lungs, and I relent. My phone vibrates in my back pocket with his text. “Got it. I’ll let you know the date and time. Just be available.”

“Oh, I’m available. You want to go somewhere right now?”

Rolling my eyes, I sashay back to the car, knowing I’m showcasing my ass. “Bye, lion.” I can practically hear the blood rushing to his cock.

The rage I had earlier dissipates as I spin out in my Victor, heading to the west side. My tires throw up road dust, causing Max to cough as I pass, and through the rearview mirror, I see him jump in his car to head in the other direction.

A third! We could get a third of the weapons! I just need to snag that meeting with Vlad Strauss. If Max can keep his bear temper under control and leave the speeches to me, we could possibly avoid having to use the other mob contacts to get the guns we need.

Nick Jordan is my brother’s right-hand man, and he owes me a favor... Well, a lifetime of favors. I only call on his help when it’s absolutely needed and now is one of those times.

As I approach our land, my thumb presses the button on the steering wheel to dial him. He picks up on the first ring. “What’s good, Livy?”

“Nick. I need you.”

There’s a pause, and he asks with some restraint, “What do you need me for?”

“Set up a meeting with Strauss. This is for Max Freidenberg and I to discuss business licenses. I’ll take a lackey with me. Not Armel, because I don’t want Cal to know anything.”

Another long pause, and I check to see if the phone is still connected. It is. “Nick?”

“Livy, you’re really going to make me do this?”

“Do you want me to tell Cal about you fucking our mother when she was alive?”

At least Nick had been in love with her. Had given her everything she desired those years they had their sordid affair. When I was eighteen, I walked up on them in the throes of passion on a workbench in the rose garden. Keeping silent, I asked my mother casually about it months later when I wanted out of an arranged date with some stiff’s son.

My father was never faithful to her. After he killed her, he ran off to the South of France with who used to be our third nanny. Cal hadn’t heard from him in years and had seemingly given up on trying to locate him. If he did, he wouldn’t tell me. I’d be happy to tell Strauss’s men right where they could find him if I knew.

“Okay, Livy. I’ll do it. I’ll send a lackey to accompany you. But Liv, what do you get out of this meeting?”

“A third of the weapons from the Freidenberg’s business,” I say, proud of my negotiation skills.

“You know there’s a way we can get a hundred percent…”

“Don’t,” I warn him, my triumphant mood suddenly spoiled.

“Your parents wanted⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck what my father wanted.”

“Livy, think about it, at least. Not for you, for the people. For those who have nothing out there, left to⁠—”

“Goodbye. Text me about that meeting.”

Making it back to my castle, I leave the engine running for the chauffer, then march inside. My body is still buzzing from the busy morning. Tradition here in Gnarled Pine Hollow has never allowed a woman to run things. Max thought he could get by with speaking to Cal about his meeting, but I showed him who the real boss of the Von Dovish clan is.

In my room, my clothes are tossed into the corner pile as I don a leotard with leg warmers found in the top drawer of my dresser. Once I head down to the studio, the old ballroom, I turn on Wagner. Pulling out my pointe shoes from the cabinet, I flex them a few times while warming up my feet, then I slip them on and tie them up. Draping over my barre, I begin my stretch routine. A quick warmup of plies, tendus, rond de jambes doesn’t last long before I feel the music rising and the urge to move tingles every nerve within me. My turns feel sharp while my body remains lithe as the crescendo hits.

After some time, I enter the zone where the rest of the world has ceased existing. My head snaps up to the sound of applause as I lose my footing. Cal leans on the doorframe with a big smile on his face. Shaking my head, I come back to the present from the trance I’d locked myself into.

“I haven’t seen you dance in a minute. You still got it.”

“I never lost it.”

“Lately, you seem busy practicing archery or working on those cars out back. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you look so happy and relaxed.”

Easing myself down to a crossed leg position, I start the process of taking off my shoes and comforting my feet. I’m wondering if he knows about the meeting. Is this why he showed up to watch me?

“I feel happy and relaxed.”

With his sure steps, he walks to the record player and pulls the needle off, then closes the lid. “Would a certain neighbor have anything to do with this change in demeanor?”

I mean, did Max have something to do with it? Yes, I may get us the weapons we need. “Sort of.”

My twin’s smooth palms help pull me up to a stand. “Hey, that’s great! I like you two spending time together.”

Now, he’s another man to ruin my mood today. “Cal, it’s not like that⁠—”

“I know. I know. But I did tell him I’d invite him over for dinner. Him and Arianna.”

“A dinner is fine. You guys are childhood friends. Just don’t expect more from me.” Swinging the long ribbons around my neck, I carry my shoes upstairs and drop them off before heading into my bathtub for a soak. As I sit on the rounded edge of the clawfoot tub, steam rising up from the bottom, I get a text.

Nick

Tomorrow 10pm.

Just you two, tho. No one else.

Said he’s looking forward to it.

Alpha will secure the perimeter, but that’s all. U will be on your own.

It’s on. After I text Max to let him know, he sends back a kissing face emoji, and I smile. Oh no... I smiled. Like a fucking teenager in love. This is not good.

Instead of hot, I switch the tap to cool down before dipping my body in the water, trying to focus my mind on anyone but Max. Of course, that doesn’t work. Frustrated, I scrub up quickly and get out of the tub.

Once I dress in my robe, I take a seat at my writing desk near the window to scribble up a game plan for the meeting. When I open the drawer to take out a notepad, I see it. My mother’s will. Pulling it out, my fingers dance across the worn and faded ink on the yellowed page. She didn’t know what she was doing. Married to a man who treated her so poorly, she lost all sense of self, staying with him until he killed her. She didn’t make good decisions. I slide the paper back inside and take out a fountain pen and blank notepad. In two hours, I’ve got responses written down for anything Strauss may throw at us. I’m prepared.

The following day, I glide down our broad marble staircase to get a car for the meeting, but when my toes tap the fourth step, a tall man standing in the entryway, looking fresh as fuck, causes me pause. Max dons a sharp gray tailored suit, and a white dress shirt with no tie. The top two buttons are open, exposing his patterned black tattoos. When he sees me, his deep brown eyes trail longingly up my body, ingesting me with a hungry gaze. An involuntary smile brightens his face, showcasing perfect white teeth as he runs a hand through his thick black hair. He spent years fighting in the ring; his teeth are probably fake, but it doesn’t matter. He looks good. And the smirk that jerks up his lips lets me know it.

Butterflies rapidly winging it in my belly make me consider turning around and beckoning him to follow me with just a finger, all the way to my bed. An image of riding his girthy, hard cock, squeezing him with my thighs as he comes inside me, infiltrates my brain until I realize I’ve been stuck on the step for probably a whole minute.

“Hot damn, foxy. You look good,” he says, as if he’s appreciating me as much as I him. My lips threaten to grin, but I contain it as I continue my descent.

“Cleaned off the road dust and blood, I see.” When I get to the bottom of the stairs, he takes a few steps toward me and raises the back of his hand to brush my mohawk off my shoulder. I turn my head to see what he’s doing, then step back from him. “Hands to yourself, lion.”

Instead of his anger this time, I get another flash of a broad smile. “I think you like me.” Before I can argue, he slides his hand into mine and tugs me through the foyer. “Come on. I’m taking you in the Barracuda.”

“Max, my cars are faster⁠—”

“Nope. I’ve done work on mine. If we get into trouble, we hit the highway, and I can beat them on the open road.” I acquiesce and go with him out the front door. “Besides,” he says as he gets into the driver’s side door, “I’m a better driver than you.”

Slipping inside, I slam the passenger door. “I’m not fighting with you before we do this. We need to be on the same page.”

A wanton grin never leaves his face as he attempts to snare my hand again, but I pull it back. “Okay, I agree.”

“Stop trying to touch me!” I huff, and he lets out a boisterous chuckle as he motors toward the end of our lane. My thighs clench together as I take in the interior of the car. The scent of his cologne raises my pulse until I can feel my heart pounding through my back into the leather seat. I run a hand over the smooth dash. “So, you finally got one after dreaming about it all those years.”

Max twists his head, as if surprised, while keeping his eyes on the road. “Y-you remember I wanted a Barracuda?”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “Some days it’s all you would talk about.”

His face appears caught in a nostalgic smile. “I’ve had it for about ten years now. You remember that time I got so mad that you stole my replica matchbox car?”

“Do I remember that one day when you actually fought back? Yes.”

“Livia, you scared the shit out of me. I’d had it with you by then.” His eyes dart to the side as a corner of his mouth lifts, but there’s a sadness in his expression. “That was my favorite toy.”

I run my tongue over my teeth, behind my lips. Then, I do something I’ve never done with anyone. Reaching across the car, my fingers pry his right hand from the steering wheel before resting our hands on the wood paneled center console. His eyes glance to where we are joined and the grief that was in his expression is replaced with happiness once again. As he takes a deep breath in, his gray suit jacket pooches open.

“We could die in there today, you know.”

“We could,” I respond.

“So, if I pull over to this motel up here off sixty-seven, will you let me fuck you?” His eyebrows jump up and down.

“Max!” Attempting to snatch my hand back from his, he grips tighter. I allow him to lace our fingers together. He’s right. We could die. Secretly, I consider his proposal, but it’s not on the agenda. We need to focus. “I need you to let me do the talking. Will you?”

With my change of subject, his face clouds with seriousness. “Yes.”

“No bear tactics. Strauss is a bull. He won’t respond well trying to push him over. I’ll handle him.”

“How will you handle him, little fox?”

“My foxy ways.”

He gives a curt nod and lets silence fill the air for a moment. “I don’t want him to touch you.”

“I’m not yours, Freidenberg.” The muscle in his jaw pops as he clenches his teeth. He lets go of my hand. “But I don’t want him to touch me, either.” Looking out the side window at the shadows of autumn trees dying in the cold air, I add softly, “Who knows what kind of diseases his dick has.”

Silence fills the car until we pull up to the iron gates. A uniformed guard waves us through after opening it. It’s been a few years since I’ve been to these lands.

As we crawl around a bend, the old mansion appears before us. If Max’s manor is Gothic, Strauss’s is the dark Romanesque haunted house from children’s nightmares. Onyx brick and stone cover every surface. Except for a few narrowly arched windows breaking up the brutal masonry surfaces, there isn’t much light coming from the foreboding structure. Even the glass only shows flickering candles burning within each. Turrets jut into the black sky, so high they almost puncture the clouds. I’m sure if we listen closely, we’ll hear the screams of his sex slaves from the dungeons. I shiver.

Max stops the car for a moment and peers up through the windshield, shaking his head. “This is exactly the type of place I’d picture him living in.” He pulls around to the front and parks. Stepping out, I pull my leather jacket tighter around me. Max walks around the Barracuda and shuffles me to the door with a hand placed protectively on my lower back, his action spreading warmth throughout my limbs. I wish he didn’t have such an effect on me.

Two large men in black suits approach us. The wind catches the jacket of one, flipping open to reveal two guns housed in holsters on either side of his belt. They are wearing small clear wires that reach into their ears.

“Stand still,” one commands. Max and I halt. The skinnier of the two, if you can even call him that, stands in front of me and the large man in front of Max. Each takes their time patting us down thoroughly. Max is eyeing the man touching my breasts, my thighs, and my ass.

“Alright. That’s enough,” he says, pulling the guy’s hands off my backside.

The man smirks at him, but steps back. The larger of the two holds his arm out to us, showing the way to the front door. We walk up the darkened wood steps carefully while they file behind us.

“They’re here,” the large man says in his earpiece.

Before one of us can use the bull head doorknocker, it opens, and a beautiful woman wearing a leather collar, girdle, wrist cuffs, and stilettos answers the door. She keeps her eyes cast down at the floor and the sight of her makes my stomach knot. Hopefully, Strauss doesn’t keep me here and force me to wear that, to perform who knows what kind of debased activities. Max stammers, but the woman uses her arm to wave us inside. The two stoic security guards wait at the door.

Black damask wallpaper covers the long entry hall. There are double doors every few feet and a dark wood staircase to our left. Lit candles in wall sconces light the low ceiling, which reflects the dancing flames ominously.

The butleress shuts the door behind us, then sways in front as we follow down the plush patterned red carpet. At the end of the hall is a full-size portrait of Vladimir Strauss standing in a regal posture in front of the cemetery located on his grounds. Like he’s pompously showcasing his work. We turn left and enter through a set of intricately carved wooden doors.

A two-story ceiling is the first thing I notice about the large space, then the massive stone fireplace along the back wall. Sounds from an eerie piano song fill the room, and I recognize the composer as Mussorgsky. Though I don’t see him, I know Vlad has prepared the piece for our arrival. After a few moments, the notes stop. The quietness seems more terrifying than the discordant chords playing before it.

“Ah, so glad you two could make it. Welcome to my humble home.” Vladimir Strauss strolls in from a far room where the grand piano sits in the middle of a rounded turret. His bleached white hair is slicked back, emphasizing the granite like features of his face. Lines of numerous tattoos are visible just above the V-neck of his tight black shirt with long sleeves. Leather patches cover his shoulders as well as his signature pants. He claps his hands twice and smiles. “Drinks?”

“No, thank you,” Max immediately says, and I touch his hand to remind him not to speak.

“And you, Miss Von Dovish?”

“No.”

He seems offended but opens his palm toward the sofa and chairs surrounding the fireplace. “That’ll be all, slave.” My body cringes as he addresses the woman who showed us in, and she turns to leave the way we came. But Strauss tuts his tongue. “No, I think I’ll have you practice tonight. Upstairs with you now. Bring slave three with you.” The woman nods, always looking down, and walks to the stairs along the far wall. “Now, shall we? Unless… Mr. Freidenberg would like a taste of my slave for an appetizer?”

Every time he says the word, my insides jostle, and I can tell Max’s ire is building as well. Yes, the rest of us in the city are used to illegal trade. The Von Dovishes have dealt in hallucinogens for years. The computer stores make good fronts for us. Freidenbergs always had their weapons. Donovans, their gambling. But dealing people… it makes me sick. Part of me understands Strauss set up this scene to infuriate the bear, put him on tilt. The other part knows he’s just a monster.

“Sit, sit. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” I don’t want to, but we sit. Max and I glance at each other. “It’s good to see young lovers back together again after so long.”

“We’re not lovers,” I say.

“Oh? How odd. Well, nonetheless, young friends back together then.” Vlad smiles at Max, his hollow cheeks becoming bonier as he does so. “So you’ve not tasted her?”

Yes, he’s definitely goading Max. Lion does well, though, and says only, “I’m here for my business licenses. For the car wash, car shop, and motorcycle repair. Just those three will do. I understand there’s a price, and I’m willing to pay ten percent, like my ancestors have done.”

He did well. I’m impressed.

“Oh. Yes, that makes good sense. I like that arrangement. Fine, fine. Yes, you should have your family businesses back. Now that all your family is dead, I mean.” Max gristles, and I put my hand next to his thigh. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Vlad. “Her blood is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in quite some time.” Max turns to look at my face. My eyes dart to his to tell him to maintain his composure.

“The business licenses?” I ask, keeping the subject on track.

Vlad stands. “So eager to talk about paperwork.” He sighs dramatically. “How boring. I’m dying just as much as he is, Miss Von Dovish, to get a taste of your cunt.” Max grips my thigh protectively. Vlad turns his eyes to him and smirks. “I’m sure it’s more potent when she doesn’t want it sampled. Wanna see?”

Max stands and places his body somewhat in front of me. “I want to talk about getting those licenses. You said you agree to ten percent. That is the reason I’m here.”

“Yes, Mr. Freidenberg. I hear you… Let’s shake on it, shall we?” Strauss stands in front of the fireplace and holds out his slender hand to Max. The lion stalks toward him carefully and takes his hand. Before they can shake, however, Strauss lowers his arm. “Only… there’s just one thing I want before I agree.” He turns in a circle, then back to us. “Actually!” He laughs. “Forgive me, there’re two things I want before I agree.”

Max glances at me. “Yes?”

“Yes. I want her”—he points at me with a long finger—“to suck my cock.”

My mouth falls open at the same time Max almost yells, “No. Not going to happen.”

Vlad smiles, as if he’s got us. Fuck. “Relax, relax. You look tense.” He puts a hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezes. Max takes a fighting stance, his fists at the ready. “If she won’t, then you can.”

“What?” I ask before I can keep my composure.

Max is frozen, except for his eyes, which narrow.

“If you’re not going to suck it, he can. Sadly, it doesn’t suck itself.” Vlad smiles broadly at first me, then Max. “I mean, if you want those business licenses. I’d love to have a Freidenberg on his knees in front of me.”

There’s a thick silence in the room for at least two minutes. “I’ll suck you off,” I say eventually.

“No!” Max’s face is red.

“Hmm… we seem to have a problem. Okay! I’ve got it! I have a solution.” Vlad wanders over to a large plush red chair, then sits, crossing one ankle over his knee. “I want to see the fox blow the bear.”

Max’s eyes dart to mine at the same time I look at him. “Okay, I’ll do it,” I say, watching his face. It softens from fear into concern.

Max walks the two steps to me and threads his fingers through my hair, putting his face in front of mine. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“This should be fun!” Vlad says and claps loudly. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Max studies my face. “Well? Get started. On your knees, girl. Show a man what a woman’s mouth was made for.”

Max’s eyebrows raise, as if asking a question. I nod slowly. He dips his chin to seek out my lips, but I turn from him. This is a job. I don’t have to enjoy it. And I don’t want to make it a connection. Just like Duke and Janna. Or anyone else I’ve slept with. For information. For safety. For some tangible good I couldn’t get. That’s what this is and nothing more. At least, that’s what I keep repeating in my head.

I run a hand down Max’s chest and push him back slightly. He’s still got that reverent look on his face, but it seems more fearful than anything. His hands make grabbing motions as if he’s reaching for me, but knows I’ll just push him away. Because I will.

“On your knees, Miss Von Dovish. Kneel in front of the bear.”

Strauss momentarily thwarts my attention. I do as he says and hit the floor in front of Max, who bends over me protectively. Almost trying to hide me from the creature sitting in the chair, watching intently. Max takes a finger and puts it under my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to do this. I’m serious.”

“Yes, she does.” Strauss laughs like it was the best joke he’s heard in a long time.

I nod at him again, then start to rub his massive cock in his dress pants. Max lets out an involuntary sigh, and his head drops back. He’s getting hard already.

“That’s a girl. Now take out his cock.” I wish I didn’t have Strauss’s commentary, but I follow it. Max helps me undo his belt and trousers. Pulling down his black boxer briefs, his thick mass flops out at me. It’s not fully erect, but it’s aroused. And it’s a thing of beauty.

When I stick out my tongue and lick the girthy and perfectly shaped tip, Strauss moves forward in his seat and moans. Max’s fingers thread through my mohawk ends gently. I swirl my tongue more, getting the head wet, but Strauss grunts and says, “He needs sucked, little girl. Can’t you see that? He needs your mouth. Show him your worth.”

I glance up at Max’s face and the gentle look has changed into desperate neediness. He holds my jaw and strokes my cheek with his thumb. Parting my lips, I suck the end of his large cock into my mouth and the grip on my hair tightens.

“Yes, good girl,” Strauss says.

Letting him move farther down my throat, I work Max’s shaft. Taking my hand, I grip the base and twist while using the other to fondle his balls. With my index finger, I gently drag it over his taint, then press up. Max chokes on his spit. “Fuck, little fox,” he whispers to me.

My pussy begins to pulsate and dampen, so I move my thighs closer together to get some friction. As slowly as I can, I writhe against the seam of my pants. I’m enjoying Max’s cock in my mouth way more than I should. Slurping on his shaft, swirling his head, using my hand in coordination, I’m into this job like it’s my calling.

Strauss rises from his staring chair and creeps up behind me. “Here, let me help.” He puts his hand over Max’s on the back of my head and shoves me down the length of my lion. I gag, tears filling my eyes. Strauss holds me there. Max tries to take a step back, but Strauss commands, “Don’t you dare move.”

It’s difficult to breathe. Strauss makes it more difficult by pinching my nose until I can’t get any air. My pulse runs rapidly, and I panic, trying to push Max off my face with a shove on his thighs. As Max pulls back, Strauss releases my nose. I gasp for air around the muscle still in my mouth.

“Again,” Strauss commands. Max grips my head from Strauss and pushes. I think he’s trying to control things, so Strauss doesn’t. I can get a sip of air, but then Strauss pinches my nose. My vision darkens and my head goes fuzzy until the world fades out. Once I’m aware again, I find my body gasping for air around his cock.

“This is what women were made for, Livia. You should feel proud to be doing your duty, fulfilling your role. Worshipping a man like this was why you were created.” He pushes my head again, and before I pass out, he says, “Know your role. Idolize this dick.”

This is how he trains them. His slaves. He repeats this process as I pass out, then come to sipping air. Strauss is telling me that I shouldn’t be trying to lead. “Just follow. That’s what women are good for. Just an orifice. Let yourself be used. It’s your purpose.”

My mind slips in and out of consciousness. Like a nightmare, I hear the words even when the world goes black before I’m back to the light again.

Barely breathing, Max pumps wildly in and out of my mouth as if trying to rush and finish. His balls tighten in my hand before I almost fall over. My limbs go loose at my sides. Strauss pinches, then releases my nose, and I breathe enough to taste some cum spurt down my throat. Max’s cock vibrates in my mouth as he yells, “Oh fuck!” He holds my neck at an angle that I taste every drop while staring into his deep brown eyes. I hate that I love it. Swallowing all of him down, I use the back of my hand to wipe my chin of the saliva that’s dribbled out.

Max stares at me with guilt behind his eyes. I can use that. I can’t let him know how drenched my cunt had become. Max grips me under my arms, lifting me to a stand before wiping some wetness from my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Are you okay?” He holds my limp body up with his firm arms.

I nod and swallow, my throat raw and sore. “Yeah.”

With a hand on the nape of my neck, he squeezes gently. “Stay with me.” His lips breeze across my forehead. “You’re okay. I got you.”

“Oh, Mr. Freidenberg…” Strauss wanders off to the corner of the room and pours himself a drink before returning to the glowing lights of the fireplace. “She enjoyed that much more than you realize.”

Fuck. Strauss is going to blow my cover. Max’s head snaps to me, and I look at the ground as if I’m ashamed, as if I’m upset with him. Hopefully, he buys it. I need him to owe me.

Max releases me, checking to make sure I can stand, and stuffs himself back in his trousers. “I did what you asked. Do I get those business licenses?”

“Yes.” Strauss takes a sip, the ice clinking in the glass irritatingly. “I enjoyed the show. Good job, young lady.” He says it as if he’s not just ten years older than us. “She just needs more training, Mr. Freidenberg. I’d be happy to lend a hand, break her in for you.”

“How about you lend a hand to shake on those licenses instead?” Max thrusts his arm out at Strauss, who eyes it.

“Well, now I did say I wanted two things.”

My heart stops beating, and Max slowly lowers his arm.

“What is that?”

“I’ll give you your business licenses. And, as proof, I’ll make the call now.” Strauss picks up his phone and hits a button. Eyeing us both, he says to the person on the other end, “Approve Mr. Freidenberg’s business licenses. Yes, all of them. Yes.” He ends the call and smiles. When Strauss smiles, it’s terrifying. “You can run your businesses. It’s good for the community.”

“And is that it?” Neither Max nor I relax.

“There’s just… You know I have so many weapons. Well, Livia here knows.” He nods his head at me. “It’s tough because I have so many more than I know what to do with.”

Max’s jaw clenches. “Go on.”

“I’m sure you would like to restart your family trade.”

“Yes, that is the plan.”

“Well, I’d be happy to part with fifty percent.”

Quickly, I start doing math of how much thirty percent of his fifty percent would be.

“Okay… and what is the catch?”

“Oh, there’s no catch. I just want something in return.”

My multiplication stops as nausea creeps into my belly.

“What do you want?” Max asks quietly.

Strauss retreats a step and turns his back to us. Downing his liquor, he sets the glass on a marble top end table. When he spins around, there’s a flash of sadness in his eyes, a squint in his brow, before it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. “Arianna.”

Max gristles next to me, his entire body going rigid as if that was the key word needed to poke the bear. Before he can move, though, I say, “It’s a deal.”