The Fixer: A Dark Bratva Billionaire Romance (Chicago Bratva Book 2)

by Renee Rose

  “Yes.”

  “Can we buy you a drink?” Maxim asks, standing beside me. When Oleg frowns, Maxim amends, “Oleg’s always good for an after-set drink. Anytime.”

  “I can’t tonight but maybe next time.” She pulls her hand out of Oleg’s grasp. “Thanks for letting me fuck with you tonight. You were a good sport.”

  “The pleasure was his,” Maxim fills in after the awkward pause when she realized he couldn’t answer.

  After she walks away, Oleg sinks into his chair, glowering at the table.

  “You can’t kill us because Sasha did it,” Maxim says, winking at me. “My brilliant wife.”

  His brilliant wife.

  I warm in the glow of three words I never imagined I’d hear from Maxim’s lips. Straddling his lap, I kiss him. This was fun. I feel like I belong, like everything is easy and light—like my college days.

  Maybe Maxim was right.

  Maybe my father did choose a husband for me who he believed could make me happy.

  Nah, that’s assigning him too much credit. But at least it seems like his stupid scheme for me wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened.

  Chapter 15

  Maxim

  The next day, Ravil seeks me out when Sasha’s in our bedroom.

  For all the glory of our penthouse, we don’t have any office space. It’s why Dima’s set up in the living room. Ravil had a desk installed in his suite for Lucy to work from, but his is out in the living room, too. In the past, that worked. We’re all in the same business. No one needed privacy to conduct business. Now that we have women living with us, I suspect that will need to change.

  There are plenty of office spaces and meeting rooms on the lower floors of the Kremlin, so we could set up a separate business suite.

  “Any word from Galina?”

  “Sasha spoke to her. She’s fine, just lying low. She’s with Viktor.”

  “Viktor who?” Ravil looks suspicious.

  I shrug. “He was just a brigadier. I think he played bodyguard to Galina and Sasha. Who knows, maybe they were lovers.”

  “Ah.”

  “How are things shaking out in Moscow?”

  “Leonid Kuznetsov and Ivan Lebedev both are claiming power. Whether they will divvy up Igor’s cells or one will kill the other remains to be seen.”

  “Hmm. My money’s on Leonid, how about you?” I remember the cell pakhan. He was smart and ruthless. A little too greedy, a little too proud, but he’d make a decent leader.

  “Same, yes. He’s asking for our support.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “Yes. I’d rather deal with him than Ivan. That man is unreasonable.”

  “Agreed. So it doesn’t seem like Sasha or Galina were part of this coup? Have you heard anything?”

  “No one seems to care. Other than the initial call when I heard Galina was missing, no one’s mentioned her again. No, I don’t think they were part of it.”

  I exhale a breath I’d been holding since Ravil first called with the news when we were in California. “Thank fuck.”

  “Yes.” Ravil considers me. “She’s becoming more willing?”

  I remember the image of my beautiful bride on her back this morning, her legs over my shoulders, moaning my name. “We seem to be getting along.”

  Ravil’s lips twitch. “Good. That’s better for everyone.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say drily. For a while there, marrying Sasha felt like a prison sentence. I know she felt the same way. “I’m keeping her on constant watch until Dima’s worked out some kind of alarm system to let us know if any bratva member enters this country. Even without Sasha in the picture, it will be a good mechanism to have in place.”

  “Yes. We don’t need Ivan sending someone over here to install his own team in our place. I already upped security on the building the moment Vladimir was killed.”

  I nod, unsurprised. Ravil is a smart man.

  “Sasha won’t try to run again?”

  She might. I’m not dumb enough to think I have her tamed or that she trusts me. We seem to be getting along, but I know firsthand how she can flip on a dime. Still, when she ran, she didn’t run far, and she knew I’d follow. In other words, she didn’t run in earnest, she was just making me work.

  “I can handle her.”

  The bedroom door opens, and Sasha comes out in her running shorts. “I’m going for a run.” She has that haughty air about her that she had when I first brought her back.

  “Not alone, you’re not.”

  She ignores me and walks to the door. “Better hurry, then.”

  Fuck me. I’m already in my running clothes because I anticipated her desire, but I scramble to grab my keycard and wallet. I catch her in the hall outside the penthouse, wrapping an arm around her waist to drag her back to me. “Hey. Hey. What’s the deal?”

  When she fights me, I nail her up against the wall and pin her wrists beside her head. “Caxapok. What happened?” I try to look at her face, but she’s looking through me. I drop my face into her neck and nuzzle. “Why are you making me work? What did I do wrong?”

  Her breath rasps between us for a moment. “What were you saying about me?” There’s accusation in her tone.

  Aw, fuck. I rewind, trying to remember what I’d said to Ravil. What she’d heard.

  I hold her wrists firmly and pin her with my most direct stare. “I was not being disrespectful, I swear on your father’s grave.”

  She makes a scoffing sound and starts to look away, but her gaze bounces back to mine. She’s unsure. I don’t know what made her so damn insecure. A half an hour ago, we were in post-coital bliss, her tucked against my side purring. But I get it. Nobody likes to be talked about. It probably perpetuates that feeling that she’s not in charge of her own life.

  “Ravil asked if you were going to keep running. I said I could handle you. I’m sorry. I did not mean to fuck this up. Did I hurt your feelings?”

  I press a kiss to her temple, her cheek. Her nose.

  “How are you going to handle me?” she asks sullenly. She’s sulking, but I can tell whatever barrier she’d thrown up is dropping.

  “Hey.” I shift in front of her when she looks away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything other than that if you run, I’ll chase. You already know that, don’t you, lyubimaya?”

  “Why was he asking?”

  I narrow my eyes. “What’s this about?”

  “Don’t gaslight me. I want to know why you two were discussing me.”

  I release her wrists and straighten, realizing there’s something more seriously amiss here. She’s genuinely worried about something.

  “Ravil’s my pakhan. We were discussing business. You’re part of our business now. If someone comes after you, Ravil’s cell—my cell—will be the ones who have to take care of it. That’s all.”

  She swallows and nods, but I’m not certain I convinced her.

  “Listen, I know it’s hard to trust. This marriage blindsided both of us, and your whole life changed in an instant. I’m sorry about that. But I’m not planning any more surprises. I’m not going to make decisions on your behalf unless it’s to protect you. You have my word.”

  The fight goes out of Sasha, and she leans against the wall like it’s holding her up.

  “Are we okay?”

  She nods, but it looks a little shaky.

  “You still want to run?”

  Her nod quickens. “Definitely.”

  I hit the elevator button and gesture toward it when the doors immediately open. “After you, caxapok.”

  Sasha

  The fist in my solar plexus only loosens part way with Maxim’s promises. We step into the elevator together, and I have to breathe down my anxiety.

  I hate living with suspicions. I wish mom had never suggested he might be after my money, that he might be trying to kill me because now the slightest thing gets me paranoid.

  Not that hearing them talking about me in low voices
can be categorized as the slightest thing. I think I had good reason to question him.

  My mom texted me this morning from a new number to tell me she was still safe but not to contact her. She told me to get a burner phone, warning me that Maxim had access to all my call history, even if I deleted messages.

  Of course, I know she’s right. I knew he’d put a tracker in my phone the moment he handed it to me.

  The trouble is—how do I even get a burner phone when my husband won’t let me out of his sight? And even if my mom’s wrong—even if I can trust Maxim—is this any way to live?

  I can’t be suffocated like this for much longer without going nuts. I know Maxim said it was temporary, but I don’t know if I can believe that. Or how long temporary will be.

  When we get downstairs, I take off running on the route he showed me last time. He paces beside me, honoring my silence, but sending me assessing glances.

  I appreciate that he sees me. I’m not trying to hide things from him—if I were, I’d like to think my acting skills would keep him from seeing so damn much. But I have to admit, it feels good to have him paying so much attention.

  And caring.

  It’s hard to believe my mom when I consider how attentive Maxim has been. Then again, if I’m his Golden Goose, he would want to be attentive. He’d want to keep me wrapped around his finger, so I didn’t notice how tight the leash was.

  I run farther than I should—after a few days off and the late nights drinking, my body is off-schedule, but it feels good. Moves the anxiety out of my pores with my sweat. Clears the knot in my belly with my breath.

  We get back and both shower—not together. Maxim seems to realize I’m not in the mood. When he gets out, a towel wrapped around his six-pack, I confront him.

  “I want a car.”

  He’s back to playing Mr. Cool—nothing showing in his expression. He drops the towel and pulls on a pair of boxer briefs. “You want freedom.”

  I feel seen again. “Yes.”

  “Do you have a license?”

  “Yep. I got one in California when I was a student.”

  “Okay.” He nods. “Let’s go buy you a car, then.” There’s reservation in his tone, like he’s making a concession.

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course. I don’t have access to your inheritance yet, but I can cover it. We’ll get you something flashy. A convertible? How about a Corvette?”

  I’m stunned. I never expected him to agree. Especially not so easily. “Lambo.”

  “Lamborghini it is.” He walks toward me in nothing but his boxer briefs. He sprouts an erection as he gets closer. “You’re going to look hot in your Lambo.” His lids droop, and he grabs me by the waist and pulls me against his body.

  “Mmm.” I hum and look up at him. I didn’t expect him to agree. It feels like another piece of evidence that he’s operating in good faith.

  Not trying to kill me.

  “But Sasha?”

  “Yes?”

  “Lambo’s are fast.” His lips twitch in a smile. “Please don’t make me chase you.” His hand drops to squeeze my ass. “Promise to be good?”

  Lust ripples through me at his insinuation of punishment. I remember how hot my last punishment was. How much I like this game. “I promise,” I murmur, only half meaning it.

  “Hmm.” He doesn’t believe me because he’s smart and perceptive.

  I flash a wicked smile. “Can we go now?”

  He brushes a kiss across my lips. “Anytime, printsessa.”

  I relax and wrap my arms around him, pressing my face against his chest. He can’t be bad.

  He can’t be.

  I know my mom is wrong about him.

  Sasha

  Maxim buys me a convertible Lamborghini Huracan in electric blue, which he says goes with my eyes. After we finish the paperwork and get the keys, he hands me into the driver’s seat, his eyes ablaze with lust.

  “Do I look hot?” I ask, remembering his words.

  “Like a movie star.” He walks around to the passenger side. I know it must kill him to ride shotgun. He’s all alpha male. The guy who likes to drive, but he takes the seat with his casual grace.

  I start the car, and we pull out of the lot, showing the paperwork at the gate. Rather than drive back to the apartment building, I just take off without any destination in mind. Maxim was right—I wanted the freedom.

  Driving feels amazing.

  Maxim doesn’t comment or direct, another surprise. I push away my mother’s voice in my head, reminding me he’s just trying to keep me happy until he has my money.

  “Did you want to be a movie star, Sasha?” Maxim asks.

  “What?” I glance over and find he’s examining me closely.

  “You told Kayla you were jealous about her agent. How did that work out, anyway? Did you hear?”

  Seriously? This guy is actually following up on my friend-gossip?

  “She got the agent.” Kayla texted me last night with the news.

  “Good for her. So what about you, Sasha?”

  I scoff. “Well, obviously, it’s impossible.”

  “Because of me?”

  “What?” I look over, surprised. “No. What chance do I have getting into even the smallest acting gig? I have a Russian accent. I need to lose thirty pounds. And yes, I don’t live in L.A.”

  “What about acting here? Stage acting? Or even commercials.”

  I’m getting queasy. Maxim’s words incite a riot of emotion in me. All the pent-up, stuffed-down hopes and dreams I’ve been harboring since I was a little girl. My dreams to act in a soap opera. A television show. Or yes, the stage. None of those have ever been a possibility. While I was at USC, I could pretend, I could dip my toes into the water and wish my future would be different, that I was someone else, but I knew it would come to an end.

  “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?”