Chapter 11 - Maxim

A few days earlier

"I didn't think you were returning to New York this soon," Yegor says as he sits down on the other side of the desk from me. "You were supposed to stay in Russia for a week. It's only been two days."

"Well, plans changed. You said you had information for me, and it couldn't wait until I came back, so I returned sooner than planned. I'd rather hear it in person than sit and talk with you on the phone. Especially if you think it's important enough to interrupt my holiday."

Sweat beads on Yeager's forehead as he looks at me before glancing out the window. "How much do you know about this girl, Pearl Wilson?"

I sit up straighter, body tensing. I'm prepared to launch myself over the desk if he says anything about the fact that she's an escort or the men she's been with. We've already discussed her job and as for the men she slept with, even the ones she's just going to dinner with, I don't want to know. It's easier not knowing that she's been with somebody before me in any aspect.

I don't know why the hell I've given this woman the power to drive me wild, but I have. It's eating me alive inside, day by day. If I were a smarter man, I would go out and charm the first whore I found at a strip club, fucking her until I forgot that Pearl ever existed.

"Yegor, talk to me."

He clears his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Pearl Wilson isn't who you think she is. In fact, there was no record of her before she turned fifteen. From the point of fifteen to eighteen, she was living in an orphanage. No record of any family or life before that."

"There are plenty of children lost to the system that only appear when whoever has been taking care of them dies. It's not that unheard of."

Though it does make sense as to why she'd go into a career as an escort. She is broken on the inside from childhood trauma. She may not know what she's worth.

Yeager stands. "We have a meeting to go to."

"So, you come into my office. You dropped the bomb that Pearl Wilson didn't exist before the age of fifteen. And now you're telling me that instead of talking about this, we have to go to a meeting? I don't fucking think so. Sit your ass back down and tell me whatever it is you have to tell me. Stop being a fucking coward."

He sits back down wringing his hands together as he looks at me. I don't think I've ever seen him this nervous before.

"Well. It wasn't just the fact that she didn't exist until she was fifteen. She went to school on a scholarship. She got her degree in computer science. Before the scholarship, she had been in a private school but there's no record of who was paying for it. The group home certainly wasn't.

That part sticks out as slightly odd to me. I lean back in my chair, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. Why would a woman who is his educated as her—both from an early age and as she got older—go to private school, get a degree, and then turn to escorting? I knew she was well-educated, intelligent, and well-versed in etiquette.

But I also know that she was lying to me about horse riding. That girl was fucking pretending she didn't know what she was doing, but when it came to the crunch, she rode Prancer like an experienced rider away from the fires. Hell, she could have outraced me, if she weren't fucking putting on a show.

Perhaps if we had stayed a while longer in Russia, she would have eventually revealed more about herself. I'd already have the answers instead of sitting here like a fool not knowing the truth.

"Is that all?" I ask, my voice pinched. "Maybe next you're going to tell me that she's a man. Even better, she's an Italian."

"I don't have any information on her yet other than that. I know what you know. She's twenty-two now and went to school between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. She worked hard, combining two years into one, and finished a year early."

"So, you thought calling me back home and telling me that she was an orphan is something I should have left Russia for. You think that was a clever idea? Are you fucking stupid?"

"No, it has to do with the meeting today as well. You know that Ivan wants to talk to you."

"If this were about a meeting with Ivan, he would have called me himself and spoken to me over the phone. What's going on here, Yegor?"

"I don't know. All I've heard was that Ivan needs to talk to you in person. Nikita doesn't even know anything, and you know he's the one who gets some of the best gossip first."

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to hold off the headache building there. It feels like a million tiny men are going at my brain with jackhammers. "You've got to be kidding me. We don't know what's going on and you're upset because you couldn't gossip. Why do I pay you?"

"Right now, to be honest, I'm not sure." Yegor gives a nervous chuckle, as if he's not sure how the joke is going to land.

Sighing, I stand up. "You're lucky there's nobody else that can do your job as well as you can. If there was, you might not still be on my payroll. Hell, you could end up like Boris."

Without another word, I brush by him, rounding the desk and heading for the door. Yegor jogs to keep up with me as I storm through the halls entering the main casino and stalking through the front doors to the valet where my car is already waiting.

I leave Yegor standing on the sidewalk as I get into the car, slamming the door shut and looking down at the phone where Pearl's last message is still sitting.

It was sent a few hours after we landed. Nothing more than a brief and icy thank you for taking her to Russia.

The car zips through the streets of New York, winding through the traffic before coming to a stop at one of the restaurants Ivan likes to use for his business dealings.

The host nods to me as I get out of the car and walk through the doors, not bothering to speak to anyone before heading up the stairs and into the private room.

Ivan leans against the dark paneling on the wall, staring out the window at the city below.

"I heard you want to talk to me," I say, crossing the room and clasping his hand, pulling him into a hug and slapping him on the back. "It couldn't have waited until I came back from Russia when I had planned to."

"No Maxim. I heard that you had taken off on some adventure with an escort. And while I agree that you should take some time to settle down soon, it's now become imperative that you do."

I drag out one of the velvet-coated chairs, dropping down into it and kicking my heels up on the table in front of me. "What do you mean it's become imperative? I have no interest in getting married. Not yet anyway."

"You seem to have enough interest in that woman you carted around the world. I need you to turn that interest to somebody else though."

I don't like the direction the conversation is taking, especially as Ivan sits down beside me. He's the Pakhan of the Bratva and I would have to listen to whatever he said. He could order me to do whatever he wanted and if I even thought about arguing against his decision, he could have me killed.

Not that he would. He's my cousin and there comes a respect with that that's not extended to other members of the Bratva.

Sighing, I dig out a bottle of painkillers from my jacket pocket and pop one hoping it takes care of the headache and whatever other pain Ivan is going to put on my shoulders.

"All right, what is it you want me to do? Who's going to be my ball and chain for the rest of their life? Or mine."

"You can't go around calling her a ball and chain."

"If she's a woman that's going to tie me down and prevent me from doing what I like. From being with whom I like, then that is exactly what I would call her."

"Not a chance. Irina Pavelov is not the kind of woman who's going to allow you to pull that shit with her."

"Irina. As in the daughter of Gleb? You want me to get married to that bastard's daughter?"

Ivan nods, removing a cigar from his pocket, clipping the end off, and lighting it. Smoke swirls toward the ceiling and a thin ribbon as he inhales before blowing it out. "You're right. I do want you to marry her. Gleb has come to us with a business proposal. An alliance, if you will. We need his money; we need his weapons. You need to marry his daughter and keep her happy. You're getting old, time to settle down and start a family, and while you refuse to find a bride of your own, I'm going to push you to marry the woman of my choosing."

She's a very plain girl. I've met her before. Honestly, talking to a piece of toasted white bread would have been more entertaining than talking to her. She doesn't have a single thought of her own that isn't a regurgitation of what her father thinks.

Irina is everything that Pearl isn't, in the worst kind of way.

I grit my teeth as the comparison springs to mind immediately. Ever since the day I met Pearl, I've compared every woman I've come across to her. Their looks, the way they speak, how ready they are to taunt me. If they rise to the challenge with the people around them.

None of them compare to her.

"She may be a plain girl. But she's good for an alliance. You're going to marry her. This isn't a question. This isn't asking for your opinion. I need her father under my finger, which means that you're going to have to walk down the aisle, plaster on a happy face, and then the two of you will have to come to some agreement on what your marriage is going to look like behind closed doors."

I want to argue with him and tell him that I won't marry. Not her, at least.

I can't argue with him though. It would be a sign of disrespect and for that I would pay dearly. However, there is the hope that he will hear the answer in my silence, the resounding no that I want to scream.

There is no way I can spend the rest of my life tied to a woman who can't even match me in wits.

The thought of spending a lifetime with her makes me want to tear out my hair. And then should we have children which will be expected of us? They would be running around as dumb as their mother and none of my genes will be able to do anything to prevent that. I have a boring life and boring children. My family would become the laughingstock of the Bratva.

Any hope I have at making Pearl mine will disappear. As soon she'll finds out about the engagement she'll cease any contact with me.

Ivan sighs and flicks the ash from his cigar. "I get the sense that you're not pleased about this arrangement."

"To be frank, cousin, did you expect me to be? You're dictating that I must marry this woman that I don't like. Quite frankly, a woman that I think a nun would have a challenging time liking. And then I'll be expected of children with her. Do you want dumb cousins? Do you want the Bratva of the future to be run by idiots?"

"Perhaps if you were nicer to women, you would have found somebody to marry before you turned forty. Now it's a year later and you're still alone with no signs of settling down even though it's expected of you "

"The only reason I think I don't have a woman lined up is because you've never met her. I can assure you. I've met a woman. We're engaged so I couldn't possibly marry Irina."

"You have a woman."

Smirking, I nod, happy to slide out of this deal, even with a little white lie, at least for now. "Yes. I have a fiancée."

***

Pearl laughs until she cries, doubling over and putting her hands on her thighs. "You've got to be kidding me. You think that we're getting married? What the hell? Did you hit your head on the way over here? Were you in an accident? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No, I wasn't in an accident. No, I don't need an ambulance. We are getting married."

She snorts, but this time it's intentional, her eyes rolling as she walks away from me and into the kitchen. She reaches up into one of the top cupboards, hauling down a bottle of Mezcal Tequila and pouring herself a healthy shot. She throws it back before pouring a second and throwing that back as well.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask, standing up and snatching the bottle from her. "That's your response, getting drunk?"

"Why not? I figured we could both live in a fantasy land. I drink whatever I want. You continue to spew bullshit about us getting married because it's not happening. I barely know you. You don't know me. We went on a weekend trip together. And then you precede to fucking ghost me for the last ten days and you think you can just walk in here and tell me that we're going to get married?"

I move around the counter, crowding her, making her move back until her hips hit the edge of the sink. "I'm serious."

"So am I." Her eyes are hard with defiance as she crosses her arms. "I'm not going to marry you. And if you think this is just some stupid ploy to get me to sleep with you and then there's going to be divorce after, screw you."

"Regardless of whether we were screwing or not. You're marrying me. End of story. You can either walk down the aisle or I can drag you."

She rises on her toes, though she's still too short for her eyes to be level with mine. Her finger pokes in my chest, her nails scratching against the thin fabric, scraping through to my skin. "You're delusional."

"Do I really need to tell you not to fuck with me, Pearl? I thought we'd established who I was."

"Do you think intimidating me, standing here in my kitchen keeping me pinned between you and a fucking counter is going to make me any more agreeable to this?"

"Someone should have washed your mouth out with soap long ago."

Pearl throws her hands up in the air before planting them on my chest and shoving me back hard. I grab her by the hand, dragging her back against my body, arms caging around her. My lips skate close to her ear as her back presses deeper into my chest. "You don't get a choice, Pearl. If you think I won't drag you down that aisle—hell, if you think I won't hold a minister at gunpoint until you marry me—you don't have the faintest idea who I am."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Work. I have my orders. I follow them. You might live your life being disobedient. I don't."

"Your orders." Pearl scoffs and struggles against me, but it only makes my cock stand at attention. "I can't believe this is turning you on. Let me go."

I drop my arms around her, stepping back to give her a bit of distance to sort through whatever is going on in her head right now. It's more than some other men in my position would do, but the truth is that I don't want her to hate this marriage or me.

Is this the way I thought I was going to tame her? No. No, it's not. However, this is the way it has to be.

She glares at me, her cheeks splotchy, but she softens her tone, trying to reason. "Why should I marry you? Why are you so hell-bent on me, I'm sure you have plenty of women who would marry you willingly ?" She parrots my words from moments ago.

"You are regressing back to that fake polite bullshit thing you do." I steady my voice. "You know, I did a lot of thinking about why an educated woman like yourself works as an escort. Something about it didn't seem to line up."

Pearl stands taller, her shoulders rolling back in, her chin jutting out like she's preparing to go to battle. "Oh yeah, and what conclusion did you come to?"

"You want status. Money. Power. It's not because you want to be an escort or that you need to be one. You can make more than enough money in your field with your degree. So that ruled out the money option. Power. Well, you're a gorgeous woman and you're intelligent. You can walk into a room and gain all the power you want with one look. I've watched you do it. Which means that it's the status. You like having attention on you. You like everybody bowing down to you. Wanting to be in your field of vision. Begging for you to notice them."

"That's what you think?"

I stepped closer to her again. It seems like the temperature in her apartment is growing a thousand degrees hotter at a time. "That's what I know. You do it for the status it gives you. You like being the one everybody fawns over."

"And what does that have to do with marrying you?"

"I've never been one for marriage. No desire to be a married man. But my boss requires that. There's something appealing about marrying a woman who wants a life, knowing that I could give her what she craves and that only I can do that."

"I manage just fine on my own." She snaps.

"You won't want to scare off your clientele by pissing me off, huntress. I'll kill them if I have to. Every single one of them. I doubt it would have to get that far though. All those men would need to hear is that the first few have disappeared mysteriously after being seen with you. Word would spread quickly."

"You're a sick bastard."

"Pearl, you know who I am, and you know what I am. You've been clear about that, and I've been clear that I know what you do. So why do you think you can stand here and insult me? I have the power to ruin you. Or I could be your salvation."

"And what exactly is it that you think I need salvation from my life?" She rolls her eyes. "Please, I like my life."

"Last chance to make your choice, Pearl. Either you agree to marry me, or I drag you down the aisle. Maybe I'll tie you up first. It would make it harder for you to run away. You might even like the bite of the rope digging into your skin."

"I'd rather die."

I take her by the bicep, hauling her against me. "I don't want to hurt you, Pearl. I truly don't. I like you. I think you're a highly intelligent woman. You fascinate me. You are the one person in this world that I could potentially see as my equal. And now here you are throwing my kindness in my face."

She lets out a small hiss as she tries to pull her arm from my grasp. "Let go of me, you fucking oaf."

I squeeze her arm tighter, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she knows I am serious. "I can give you time to think. I gave you time to think about Russia, after all. Look at how that turned out. You came running like a little puppy nipping along at my heels. When I come for you next time you better have an answer for me. And it better be the right answer."

I let go of her, noticing the imprint of my fingers on her arm.

Pearl sits down, her gaze focusing on the little purple dots before she looks back up at me.

Her hands curl into talons, and it looks like she is about to launch for me.

I wouldn't put it past her to try and gouge out my eyes right now.

"Think carefully about your choice, Pearl."