The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“It’s harder than you think,” I snap, even though it’s not his fault I’m getting flustered and upset. “And the accent’s still a problem here.”

“So we’ll get you a speech coach. Lots of actors from other countries perfect an American accent. Look at Alicia Vikander, that Swedish chick from the last Bourne movie.”

I blink, my nose getting hot. He’s pushing at my resistance. The resistance I put up to protect myself from wanting this thing I can’t have.

“I don’t know how to even break into Chicago’s theatre,” I admit.

“Let’s sign you up for acting classes. That will get you into the scene. You’ll meet people, find out about auditions. We can go check out all the local shows to get a sense of what’s good and what’s not.”

One minute I’m driving down the road, the next minute, I’m sobbing.

“Sasha!” Maxim’s alarmed voice cuts through the din in my ears. “Pull over, lyubimaya. Pull over here.” Maxim indicates a turn and then another into a parking lot.

I stop the car and drop my forehead onto the steering wheel to bawl like a baby.

“Fuck. What did I say? Sasha? Look at me, sugar.”

I try to look at him, but I’m totally falling apart. The definition of a hot mess. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m not sad. I’m just totally overcome. “Nobody’s ever supported my dreams,” I choke, trying to see him through my tears. “Nobody.”

I realize it’s true. My mom wasn’t a bad mom, but she was realistic. She taught me that arranging my life around a man was the only option. And her emotional energy was always taken up with my father. Of course, my dad forbade me to act in Russia and made it clear that I’d be coming home after college, and that would be the end of it.

My friends in college—well, they would never tear me down, but there was an element of competition. We all wanted the same thing, only they had a much better chance at it. I played the support role because I knew that path could never be for me.

“Do you… “ It’s hard to speak through my hiccups and sobs. “Do you really think I could act? I mean, you’ve never seen me.”

“I know you can, sugar.” He cups my face in his hands and thumbs away my tears. “There’s nothing you can’t do. You have crazy talent. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. And now you have a shit-ton of money at your disposal to create a support team. Nothing’s going to stop you, lyubimaya.”

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “I don't know why I’m crying. This is ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t supported. But I’ve got your back now. We’ll make it happen. Okay?”

I can hardly believe what he’s telling me. Part of me still thinks he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I mean, the theatre business is cut-throat. I can’t just show up and say “I’m here” and get an acting job. But even the glimmer of hope—the idea I might even get to dabble. To play a tiny role in a tiny community theater—sounds better than nothing. Even at the very worst, I could use my money to become a patron of the theatre and be in the world as a benefactor.

I blink my tear-dotted lashes, peering at his handsome face. “Why would you want this for me? Doesn’t it make me harder to protect?”

He shakes his head with total confidence. “No one will touch you. You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure of it. Living in Chicago isn’t perfect for your career, but you can afford to fly out to L.A. if it gets to that. For now, getting started here might be exactly what you need. Who knows, right?”

“Wow.” The sobs finally subside, and my breath calms. “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner.”

I stare into his dark eyes, drawing strength from him. My whole world just changed. My reality flipped ass over teakettle a second time, only this time I couldn’t be more overjoyed. It’s like he just handed me a new shiny life on a platter.

“Blagodaryu vas,” I whisper. Thank you.

He strokes his knuckles down my cheek lightly. “I told you there was nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I let out a watery laugh. “You told me that as an incentive to give you blowjobs.”

He grins back and gestures to the car. “Look what it got you.”

I shake my head, still not believing it. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Maxim goes still. When he speaks, I’m certain the answer will be the truth. “Because you’re mine,” he says simply.

I blink rapidly. “Even though you didn’t want me?”

He stares. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. None of the casual, flippant charm. “I may not have wanted you when we married. But I want you now,” he says with total seriousness.