Chapter 14

14

Lyric

O ver the next couple of days, I find myself growing increasingly frantic and restless. My pregnancy keeps swinging from one weird craving to another. I’m trying to stick to a healthy diet, even though every fiber in my body is screaming for some peanut butter and chocolate brownie ice cream.

Max and the guys have been made aware of my conversations with both Smith and my father. Respectfully, they declined to comment about Dad, but they had plenty of curse words about the local Bureau Director.

It has made them even more determined and more tightly wound, which, in turn, has made it harder to find that perfect moment to tell them about my pregnancy. I don’t think they’re ready to deal with that just yet, not with what’s coming. Because something is coming. My father and Smith both said as much.

The sound of heels clicking in an otherwise quiet library has me looking up from my lunch. The woman I see walking toward me seems familiar. The closer she gets, the tighter the dread in my stomach gets as I recognize her.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself.

Tall, blonde, vaporous, and so entitled that no space is big enough for her. A goddess walking among mortals is how she carries herself, and it’s all visible in the way she looks at me.

“This is clearly not my week,” I whisper, praying to all the gods for patience, because I’ve got a feeling it’s about to get worse from here.

“It took me a while to find you,” Polina Larionova says upon reaching my desk. “You’re Lyric Phelps.”

“That I am. Who might you be?” I ask, though I already know the answer. I just want to see how she presents herself. She came here for a reason, and this is one of the few moments where playing the idiot might work to my advantage. Remembering everything that Yuri told me about her, I brace myself.

Polina smiles coldly, ever the confident vamp. “You know exactly who I am.”

“I have no clue whatsoever.”

She gives me a hard glare, waiting for me to admit it, but I refuse to give her anything. I simply stare back, my eyebrows arched upward in innocent curiosity. “Polina Larionova. Maksim’s fiancée, to be specific.”

“His fiancée,” I chuckle dryly. “Getting ahead of yourself a little, aren’t you?”

“So you do know who I am,” Polina replies, irritated that I wasted a few extra seconds of her precious life as she nervously taps her gel nails atop the desk counter.

“I don’t give a shit who you are. What are you doing here and what do you want?”

“I see. So you want to do this the hard way,” she says, eerily calm and composed all of a sudden. “That’s fine. I can nip this in the bud right now, not a problem. You need to stay away from Max, Miss Phelps. You need to stay away from Max, from Ivan, from Artur. You don’t belong with them. Go back under your daddy’s protection, because otherwise—”

“Are you threatening me, Miss Larionova?”

“Otherwise, the wolves will eat you alive. No, I’m not threatening you, I am stating a fact. You American girls, you think the world owes you everything, that you can just get whatever you want when you want it. It doesn’t work like that.”

It’s my turn to give her a hard look. “That’s rich coming from you, while I’m here, working in a public school library and nowhere near eager to throw my daddy’s name around in order to get people’s respect.”

“You’re not cut out for them,” Polina hisses, inching closer while her blue eyes shoot daggers at my head. “You’re just the flavor of the week, Miss Phelps. A plaything for them in my absence, nothing more. We have history, Max, Ivan, Artur and I. History that runs deep. And we have a future together, as well. Their success, their very survival, depends on our marriage. You should cut your losses and leave them be. Consider it a great experience and move on.”

She clearly knows more about me than I do about her, and it makes me feel vulnerable. But there’s a reason why they left her behind. And there’s a reason why Max assured me that they have no intention of rekindling their rapport. Ever.

Problem is, I also know what Polina is talking about regarding the benefits of their supposed marriage. It has everything to do with her father’s support, which the Sokolov’s desperately need. But it doesn’t mean I have to roll over for this stuck-up bitch. Not when I’m so deep into it with the guys, not when I’m carrying their child in my womb.

“I understand that you’re bitter about the past,” I calmly reply. “But from what I’m told, that’s on you and nobody else. And while an arranged marriage would sway support toward the Sokolov brothers, it’s not my place to discuss any of this here with you. I don’t know you, Miss Larionova, and you don’t know me, so how about we let the guys decide who’s who and what’s what?”

“I’m just trying to spare you future humiliation,” she sneers. “Soon enough, our engagement will be announced. Max has no other choice if he wants to remain head of the Bratva. The elders are not happy with his projected legitimate businesses. They stand to lose a lot of money with such a move. No matter how you feel about them, you’d best be on your way. You don’t belong here.”

“The only one who needs to be on her way right now is you, Miss Larionova,” I say, raising my chin in angry defiance. “Whatever Max decides, whatever Ivan and Artur decide, it’s up to them. I’m not walking away from anything unless they ask it of me. Until then, I suggest you mind your own fucking business and get the hell out of my library so I can finish my lunch.”

Polina stares at me for what feels like forever, clearly at a loss for words. “Excuse me?” she finally manages, shaking her head slowly.

“Get the hell out of here,” I reply with a shrug. “You’ve said your piece and I don’t give a shit. You’ll never see me quaking in my boots, so you might as well get on with your life. I have a lunch to finish and work to do.”

“You will regret this,” Polina says.

“I now regret coming into work this morning, that much is for sure,” I reply. “Had I known you’d show up, I would’ve intentionally overslept.”

“This won’t be the last you’ll see of me.”

I roll my eyes, having lost the last thread of patience I had left. “I sincerely hope it is the last I see of you because you’re boring me.”

She walks away but I know she’ll think of something to retaliate. Polina is the kind of woman who doesn’t take no for an answer, who bullies anyone she deems inferior to her. But my heart is already tightly bonded to Max, Ivan, and Artur in more ways than one. I’m willing to fight for what we have, even if it means making enemies of people like her.

My stomach still churns, thoughts of unsavory scenarios roaming through my head. Polina is barely out the door, and I’m already wondering if agreeing to an arranged marriage with her is the only way for the guys to truly forge ahead and save everything they’ve worked so hard to build.

What if she’s right and I am in over my head?

When evening comes, I wrap myself in the arms of my men, though I don’t tell them about Polina’s visit until after we make love, until after we’re sated and tired, basking in the afterglow and splayed across the bed like puppets.

Max draws invisible circles around my nipple, his gaze soft and warm. Ivan is half-asleep in my lap, one hand still kneading my thigh, while Artur gets up to pour himself a glass of scotch, naked and gloriously hung.

I adore this sight. I adore the feeling I get when I’m with them. This right here is my safe haven. My paradise. As weird as it may sound, as taboo as it may seem, it’s my Eden. I don’t want to lose it. Least of all to someone like Polina Larionova.

“Has your father said anything lately?” Max asks, planting a delicate kiss on my shoulder. I’m wrapped in their scents, a heady mixture of cologne, sweat, sex and cum. My favorite fragrance ever.

“No,” I lie and instantly feel bad, but I don’t have the nerve to bring it up yet. “It’s been quiet, for the time being. How are things looking on your end?”

“Murky, at best,” he says. “But there’s something you need to know Lyric, something we have to inform you about. It’s the right thing to do.”

I give him a startled look. “What is it?”

“Your father,” Ivan says, raising his head so he can properly look at me. “He’s dirty, Lyric. Dirty as they come. We can’t let him win that senate seat, which means we’ll have to start digging through his past, his partnerships, his everything.”

“I get it,” I say, a heavy sigh rolling from my chest. “In a way, I think I’ve always suspected he was. I think deep down I always knew with some degree of certainty.”

“You’re a brilliant woman,” Artur chimes in, having brought me a glass of scotch, as well. “It’s obvious that you would’ve figured it out by now.”

“No thanks,” I politely reject the drink. “Max can have it.”

Artur’s eyes narrow for a second, but he doesn’t hesitate to hand the glass over to Max, who takes it without a second thought. “Matthew Phelps is tied to Bowman and Smith, somehow. We’ll have to look at his campaign and his campaign contributions. We’ll have our people search—they’ll be able to dig up some skeletons.”

“Something tells me you’ll find plenty of them,” I grumble, staring at the ceiling for a while. “It pains me to even say it.”

“I know, babe. But if we’re to survive this, if we’re to take our whole business into legitimacy, we have to obliterate those who want to drag us down into the gutter with them,” Max says. “If we can take Phelps down, if we take Smith and his whole field office down, hell, if we manage to take Bowman down too, we won’t need any familial alliances within the Bratva. No favors, no negotiations. They will all understand precisely how we roll.”

“And they’ll either tag along or get left behind,” Ivan adds.

I chuckle nervously. “Speaking of alliances within the Bratva. Polina Larionova paid me a visit at the library today.”

Heavy silence falls over the bedroom as the men stare intently at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You don’t drop a bomb like that and not give us any details,” Max mutters. “What happened?”

I leave nothing out and they quietly listen, occasionally exchanging nervous and irritated glances. Ivan’s nostrils flare. He’s angry. Artur becomes restless. Max, on the other hand, sets his glass on the night table and sneaks his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

“Polina was out of line,” he says. “We’ll make sure she never bothers you again.”

“She was pretty adamant that you’re going to marry her,” I reply, searching his face for any hint that my worst nightmare might come true. But all I find is ironclad reassurance as he peers deep into my eyes.

“I’d rather die a thousand deaths before I put a ring on that woman’s finger.”

Artur sits on the edge of the bed, lovingly gazing at me. “Didn’t we just tell you that we’re going to throw your father’s political career in the trashcan just so Larionov can’t pressure us into marrying his daughter, among other things? If that’s not a declaration of love, I don’t know what is.”

“Love?” I hear the word and repeat it for myself, my heart eager to stop and drink it in.

“We’re just getting started,” Artur says, inching closer beside me. “We were already on a different path when you came along, Lyric. All you did was speed things up. We’re trying to adjust to it as best we can, but if there’s one thing that the three of us have come to agree upon completely, it’s that we want you in our lives. We want you, all of you, every wonderful facet of you.”

Tears prick my eyes as I try to process his words, to wrap my head around what he just said and the ensuing implications. “Glad I’m not the only one who feels this,” I say, nestling my head in the warm space between Max’s stern jaw and muscular shoulder. “So glad.”

“We don’t know how this will end, and we certainly don’t want to make promises that we can’t keep, promises that we could unintentionally end up breaking.”

“We don’t want to disappoint you in any way,” Artur adds.

Ivan looks at me. “But you are ours, Lyric. Polina can stomp her feet all she wants. She’s never getting between us.”