Maxim nodded absentmindedly, his gaze glued to the frame. “Your mother is beautiful.”
My fingers stilled on the bottle in my hands. “So is yours. I looked her up when I found out.” Mrs. Zolotov was a tall, striking beauty with thick, brown hair. “Mila looks a lot like her.”
“Yeah, she does.” Maxim’s jaw ticked. “Let’s hope her looks are all she got from her.”
My eyebrows went up.
He shook his head and sighed. “Weren’t you just the lucky one?” His mouth tilted into a wry half-smirk.
My grip tightened on the water bottle, making it crunch. “Lucky one? Between the two of us, you’re going to say I was the lucky one? I was the secret.”
Maxim turned his head slightly to look at me, and the chill in his eyes could have powered my freezer for the next decade. “You honestly think that, don’t you? Poor little Jansen had to grow up without a daddy. Let’s all pity him.”
“You know what—” I pushed off the counter, ready to throw him out.
“You. Were. The. Lucky. One.” He meant every word. It was there in his eyes, in the rage so hot it burned ice-cold. “Secret?” The laugh that burst from his chest wasn’t remotely happy. It was tortured. “Do you really think you were a secret in my house?”
I settled back against the counter. “I wouldn’t know shit about your house. All I knew was I met our…father”—God, the word tasted bitter in my mouth—“when I was thirteen, and he told me to never seek him out again.”
“That’s Dad for you.” Maxim scoffed. “Like I said, lucky one. Trust me, he did you a favor.”
“That’s easy to say from your side of the story.” I’d been a fucking wreck after that little introduction.
“I’ve known about you since I was eight.” He continued to pick at the label on his bottle. “My parents were screaming at each other, and I crept out of my bed to sit at the top of the stairs. Nicolai was already there. My mother told him that she’d leave him and take us all back to Russia if you ever appeared on her doorstep. She knew Dad had a problem keeping it in his pants, but knowing and facing the knowledge aren’t the same, and the only thing my mother loves more than her wardrobe is her reputation.”
I ran my thumb over the label, considering his words.
“If you think that little show he put on after the game was bad, then you wouldn’t have survived my house. I didn’t play hockey because I wanted to. I played because he expected it. Did I learn to love it? Sure. But I was also terrified every time I stepped onto the ice because I knew what he would do to me if I performed…poorly. And it wasn’t like we spent our weekends at the rink or even five days a week for practices. We had a rink at my fucking house. He made us skate every day. It wasn’t just training, it was punishment. Laps. Shots. Drills. All of it. There aren’t any cutsie pictures of me grinning in my gear like that one.” He pointed to the frame.
I’d been a squirt, ten years old, and my mother had her arms around me as I smiled wide, proudly showing off my championship medal from whatever tournament we’d been at.
“Nicolai was lucky, too. His ACL went out in college, so he never played again.” He shook his head. “I would have rather been the secret.”
“I wanted a dad.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted ours.”
I thought about the few interactions I’d had with Sergei and couldn’t argue with Maxim’s point.
“I’ve hated you since we were eight,” Maxim admitted, no shame in his gaze. “You were this intangible threat to my family. I never would have signed with the Reapers if I’d known they were bringing you back.”
“Don’t hold back on my account.” Sarcasm saturated every word.
He smiled. “Never will.”
“You took my house.”
“I had no idea it had been yours. Guess we have the same taste in architecture.” He shrugged.
“And women.”
His hands stilled. “She’s why I’m here.”
“Really? I thought maybe you wanted to walk me through our ancestry.”
“Are you ever not sarcastic?” His eyes narrowed on me.
“Nope.” I put the bottle on the counter. “You have no right to talk to me about London.”
“She’s miserable.” His shoulders fell. “Her eyes are swollen and red. She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks, and her smile is just…gone.”
My chest clenched at the mental picture he presented. “That makes two of us, I guess. But what do you care? You got what you wanted, right? Because it was never about London for you. It was only about taking something else from me.”
“The way you put it makes me sound like an asshole, but yeah. I guess.” Was that a flash of remorse in his eyes?
“You are an asshole,” I countered. “And I loved London. I fell for her in that elevator before I even knew you were on the team. Finding out that you two had a history was…” I shook my head.
“We’re just friends.”
“I didn’t want you to be just anything. I’ve spent the last thirteen years of my life being told I wasn’t allowed in your world, so who the fuck are you to waltz in and take over mine?” The injustice of it all was just fucked up.
“Valid point, but in my defense, London has been in my life a hell of a lot longer than yours,” he challenged.
We were both right, and we knew it, but that didn’t break the tension.
“I called you my brother the other day,” he said quietly, dropping his gaze to the water bottle between his hands. He’d picked the label off completely. “It just kind of came out. But I guess we can’t really help the fact that biologically, that’s what we are. Brothers.”
The word hung between us, equal parts explosive and white flag.
Mom was right. We had both been kids, and neither of us had a say in what we’d been born into. And yeah, he was an ass, but maybe I would have been, too, if I’d grown up in that house.
I turned around and grabbed two plates from the cabinet, then dished out a thick slice of cheesy lasagna onto each. Then I put a fork on each plate and slid one over the granite to him.
He caught it and looked at me with raised brows.
“My mom made it yesterday. It’ll change your life.” I brought my plate and water around the island and took the stool two seats down from his, forking the first bite into my mouth.
“Damn. It’s good,” Maxim muttered a few bites later. “You said loved.”
“I’m sorry?”
“When you talked about London, you said loved. Not love. Do you still love her?” He glanced my way but quickly looked back to his plate.
Maybe it was the lasagna or the weird, landmine-laced, tentative peace between us, but there really wasn’t a point lying to him, was there? “I will love London Foster until the day I die. She’s the one. She’s it, whether or not she ever believes that I didn’t go after her because of your jackass bet comment. Even if we’re never together again, my soul belongs to that woman.” My heart fucking ached with how much I loved her.
“Then take some big brother advice and go after her.”
“Big brother.” I snort-laughed.
“I’m four months older than you.” He shrugged. “And if it were me, and I was that far gone for a girl, and it was just a misunderstanding and some wounded pride in the way, I’d fix it.”
“Well, you’re not me. We’re nothing alike.” It wasn’t just wounded pride. It was…shit. Fine, it was slayed pride if I was being honest.
“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” He motioned to my water bottle.
I’d picked the label off just like he had.
“She believed you.”
“Yeah. Well, I thought I was right at the time, and I’m very convincing.” He chugged down his water. “Was there any part of you that did it—went after her—just to spite me?”
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t want you with her. I was afraid you’d hurt her—emotionally. But I just wanted her. Right from the first momen
t I saw her.”
“I’d never hurt London.” He bristled. “Not that I’d be good for her, either. Mostly I just wanted to fuck with you. But I believe you, and if I can sit here and say I was wrong, then I think you can probably put on a tux and make her believe she was wrong, too. I’d say go over tonight and beg her to listen to you, but we both know she won’t open the door. She’s stubborn like that. Besides, a tuxedo is a damn fine weapon against the fairer sex.” He smirked.
The New Year’s Eve party. It was this weekend.
“Again, just some brotherly advice.” For the first time since we’d met on the ice when we were twenty-two, there was no hatred in his eyes.
“She kept me a secret. Just like our father.” There it was, the real heart of the matter.
“Yeah. Well, you’re just going to have to forgive her for that,” he said softly.
“We’re not having a moment.” I forked in another bite.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He went back to his lasagna, but he was smiling.
He was right. London wasn’t going to listen to me unless I caught her in public. She would slam the door in my face before I got a word out.
And even I could admit, I looked pretty damned good in a tux, but what was I going to do if she wanted to take our relationship under whatever was left of the radar?
All or nothing. That had to be the line.
I was done being anyone’s dirty little secret.
18
London
I checked myself in the bathroom mirror once again, my stomach fluttering with nerves. The dress I wore was glittering black with an A-line and thin black straps. A side slit exposed one leg all the way up to my hip, and the rest of the dress flowed around me in puddles of silk, stopping just above my ankles. The black pumps I wore strapped around the ankle, and since the dress was elegant enough, I opted for no jewelry and clean makeup.
Tonight was the night I’d worked toward all season.
New Year’s Eve.
But that wasn’t why my nerves were tangled—it was because I couldn’t stop wondering if Jansen would show up.
It had been a little over two weeks since the mess at Reaper Arena, and I missed him. I missed him so much it was like someone had carved out a piece of my soul.
The black fabric sparkled in the lights, and I blew out a breath, nodding to myself in the mirror. If he did show, I thought I might catch his eye.
At least I hope.
Because if I’d learned anything from the last two weeks without him, it was the absolute knowledge that I didn’t want to be without him. Even if he’d started dating me because of a revenge plot, it didn’t change how he’d made me feel. How I knew he felt about me. Time and space from the situation had forced that clarity into my mind. Jansen wouldn’t have done all he did just to irk Maxim. He wouldn’t help me conquer my fear, wouldn’t go out of his way to truly understand what made me me.
And in the end, that’s all that mattered. If he showed tonight—to the event I’d stressed was the most important for my career—then it would be a sign he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. If I didn’t actually matter to him? If I was just a pawn in a game against his brother? Then he wouldn’t show up. Wouldn’t be here to support me.
And I’d have to find a way to live with it.
I emerged from the bathroom and was met with the delightful sounds of an event in full swing. My chest swelled with pride as I sashayed through the clusters of the guests, all dressed in their finest. Some sipped champagne, others drank liquor from crystal tumblers, and some nibbled on the delights being served on silver platters. Chatter and laughter and music bounced off the walls, and I couldn’t be prouder of the turnout. So many pro-athletes, team owners, and celebrities had shown up at my request, each one of them emptying their deep pockets for such a good cause.
I walked toward the mahogany and marble bar, gazing toward the wall of windows surrounded by brick. Moonlight glittered off the Ashley River just outside, the Historic Rice Mill building providing the absolute perfect space to host this event. Charleston’s Ronald McDonald House was less than a mile away, and most of the staff, volunteers, and organizers were already enjoying the event.
Caz chatted with a petite girl with jet-black hair and thick black-rimmed glasses at the opposite end of the bar but waved to me when he saw me. I lifted my champagne flute to him but was content where I was at. I’d mingled earlier, and with how much pressure had been riding on this event, I was ready to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labor.
“That’s some dress,” a familiar male voice said, and I couldn’t help but drop my shoulders just a tad as I turned to face him.
Maxim looked stunning in his all-black tux, but he wasn’t the brother I’d been hoping would seek me out. “Thank you,” I said. “You look nice too.”
“May I?” he asked, motioning to the empty spot next to me at the bar.
I nodded, my heart in my throat. I hated that in the back of my head, I wondered what Jansen would think if he walked in and saw me chatting with Maxim. But, if we were ever going to work things out, he needed to trust me. Plus, it wasn’t like I was just going to suddenly stop being friends with Maxim, even if we did have some issues to work through. Also, Jansen may not even show. That thought stung worse than any other.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said after ordering a drink. “Properly, this time. That day…I was livid for many reasons. Most of which had nothing to do with you or Sterling.”
I arched a brow. “Need to share?”
The line of his jaw hardened, and that familiar darkness swirled in his eyes. Maxim had so many walls up it was a shock he could speak around them at all. “Not today,” he said, but I heard the words for what they were—not with you.
And I respected that. There were weights only certain people could bear, and I knew I wasn’t that person for Maxim. I had been that person for his brother, and I hoped like hell it meant something.
“I understand,” I said, and also had hope in my heart for him. Hope that he would find someone to bear his scars to, someone to help him see past his hatred, the darkness that clung to him. “And you don’t have to apologize again, Maxim,” I continued. “You’ve done so already, several times.” And it meant a lot to me that he wanted to save our friendship, especially since he’d become a regular part of my life with his friendship with Caspian. It would’ve been terribly awkward if we’d hated each other and yet were still forced to see each other on the reg.
“I wanted to, though,” he said. “And I needed you to know the truth. A truth I wasn’t willing to see before.”
I took a sip of my champagne, tilting my head.
“Sterling didn’t pursue you because of any plot against me,” he said. “And I’m an asshole for even thinking that. Not because I’m a new fan of his—I’m not,” he clarified. “But because I am a fan of yours. You’re smart and funny and understanding. Gorgeous, to say the least, and you can keep up with the guys.” Heat flushed my cheeks at his words. “Anyone who goes after you, myself included, can see why you’re a catch. I shouldn’t have thought there would be any other reason for Sterling wanting you other than you’re incredible.”
I swallowed around the rock in my throat. “Maxim,” I said, and his name sounded like an apology. “I…” What could I say? That I was sorry for not choosing him? For not going out with him when he’d asked? For falling in love with his brother?
“It’s okay,” he said, waving off my clear struggle for words. “You were right about what you said in the bar a couple of weeks ago. I always knew you were a catch, but I never thought about it that way until I saw how Sterling looked at you.” He flashed me an apologetic look. “And you were right about me not wanting anything serious. I’m not the commitment guy. I can’t be that guy for anyone…but we would’ve had fun,” he teased, showing just the tiniest smirk that no doubt would normally melt panties.
Not mine, though. Not when there was only one man I wanted, needed.
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“Oh, I have no doubt,” I said, laughing as I shook my head. “But Jansen…” I sighed, unable to fully encompass what he meant to me. “He’s my island.”
Maxim tilted his head, confusion flickering in his gaze before he shrugged. “I get it,” he said, straightening his immaculate suit. “Why you fell for him. I mean, my DNA is irresistible.”
I laughed again and sighed when he slipped his arms around me in a friendly hug.
“I hope everything works out for you,” he said, releasing me.
“You too, Maxim,” I said, and he dipped his chin before he snagged his drink and headed back into the party.
My chest settled with that little piece of closure, but I couldn’t stop myself from scanning the room full of guests.
No sign of Jansen, but…
Oh, fuck, was that Asher Silas heading my direction?
I drank the rest of my champagne in one gulp, my heart racing at the reasoning why Silas would single me out tonight. What if he hated the event? What if we hadn’t raised enough money? What if—
“This is a fantastic event,” he said by way of greeting, settling into the spot Maxim had just vacated. I released a breath so loud he laughed. “Did you think I was coming over here to reprimand you?”
I chuckled nervously. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m nervous. I love the Reapers, and I wanted to make you proud.” God, did that sound cheesy? I couldn’t help it, it was the truth.
“Well, you’ve certainly done that,” he said, and the bartender set a drink before him. He hadn’t even ordered one. The bartender appeared to know who he was and exactly what he liked. Damn, what was it like to be a billionaire with that kind of influence and power? And with how young he still was? His rugged good looks? I couldn’t imagine the kind of advances and scandals he dealt with on a daily basis. And here I thought being in the middle of two brother’s painful history was bad.
“Thank you,” I said, another knot of nerves loosening. “I love this job.”
“It shows,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I hope you plan to stay with us.”
Sterling: A Carolina Reapers Novel Page 19
