The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“Igor saw me on the streets. He had a habit of recruiting down-on-their-luck boys from the street. The bratva headquarters had warm beds and food. Plenty of cash to go around if we proved ourselves. Every member needed an errand boy. Hell, they loved training us up in their own images. Violent and ruthless but with rules.”

“Were you my father’s errand boy?”

Maxim nods. “I learned from the best.” His smile is sad, like he doesn’t love the man he was. Or perhaps still is. “I paid attention. I listened and watched. Igor figured out I was smart when I started fixing the problems some of the other brigadiers got into. That’s how I got my title as fixer. I was too young for leadership, so he kept me by his side as strategist. Sent me out when problems arose to fix them.”

“You’re grateful to him.”

Maxim nods. “I will forever be grateful. The life he gave me was so much better than the one I had. I was nothing, and he made me into a powerful man.”

“And I ruined that.”

“No.” Maxim stops and looks out at the ocean. “I thought so at the time—but no.” He turns to look at me, and it takes all my courage not to flinch away. “You did me a favor. My life is ten times better here than it was in Russia. Ravil has Chicago at his feet, and he shares the wealth generously. I’m happy here.”

I work to swallow, but I can’t. I want to ask if he forgives me, but the words get clogged in my throat.

“Did you know? That he knew it wasn’t true?”

“No.” Maxim removes his hand from mine, and I register the loss for a second until I realize it was to brush my hair out of my face. My belly flutters when his knuckles make the whisper contact. “But I wondered. It explains why I’m alive. I figured he wasn’t sure, and that’s why he hedged by sending me out of the country.” He loops a hand around my throat, his thumb lightly stroking the column of my neck. “But he knew for sure. Which I guess is proof of his love for you.”

I scrunch up my forehead. “How, exactly?”

“He didn’t call your bullshit. He respected you enough to get rid of me since you wanted me gone. And I may be mistaken, but I believe he was pretty fucking fond of me. I was his protégé. Made in his image and all that.”

My face flushes. I’d wanted to hurt him, but I hadn’t actually wanted him gone. My father had kept me away from people and business most of the time, but when he took us on vacation the next year and Maxim wasn’t there, I’d felt the loss acutely.

“I-I was stupid and spiteful. If he’d killed you, I never would have forgiven myself.”

Maxim brushes my lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Igor probably knew that, too.”

“I think you give him more credit than he deserves.”

Maxim shakes his head. “No. I learned at his side. He considered every angle before he made a move. He must’ve decided removing me was the best solution for both of us. Same as he decided unifying us now would complete the circle.”

Something huge rocks inside me. I’m not sure I buy that Maxim and I were meant to be married. That our marriage is closure or a completion. I still suspect it was my father punishing me. But hearing the other possibility blows open the roof on my current thinking. Those thoughts are dangerous, though.

Especially after my conversation with my mother.

Maxim touches my nose seeming to read my mind with that uncanny ability of his. “Or maybe it’s all his sick sense of humor. He’s cackling from the grave right now at both of us.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I fail to see how this situation is so awful for you.”

The shoes drop to the sand, and he loops an arm around my waist and yanks me up to him.

“No, you’re right,” he murmurs, bringing his lips right above mine. “At the moment, it doesn’t seem so bad for me.” He brushes his lips over mine. My breasts press against his ribs, and I stroke a hand under his shirt to feel those rock hard abs I saw earlier. “I have a hot, rich wife.” He squeezes my ass, pulling my hips up against him. “And she may be a handful, but punishing her is quite possibly the highlight of my life.”

The highlight of his life.

He can’t mean that.

I mean… of course, he doesn’t. That’s ridiculous.

“The highlight of your sex life?”

Maxim smirks. “Definitely.” He nips my lower lip.

I kiss him, my hand stroking under his shirt to his back. When I find the gun there, I flinch and retract my hand.