by Alexa Davis
"Did you see that there's been more killings over in Wicker Park?" she asked as she buttered the bread and then neatly sliced the stack on the diagonal.
"I did," I replied. I scooped eggs onto two plates and then placed the sausages beside them.
"What do you think is going on over there?" she asked. "I keep wondering why they're out to kill each other. Is it drugs, do you think? That's what happened to the Vice Lords in the ’60s and ’70s on the West side. They turned on each other when some of the groups started dealing drugs. The Russians seem kind of barbarian in their approach to dealing with one another, don't you think?"
"Like with any dispute, I'm sure there are reasons behind it that we can't understand," I said, carefully avoiding the weighty answer that I knew I should probably be giving, but wasn't willing to yet. "I'm sure the reporters will figure it out and there will be something about it on the evening news."
"You’re probably right," she nodded as she dug into her breakfast and declared it delicious. We talked about the store and Petrov as we ate, then suddenly, Lexi blurted out, "Max, we've got a month to plan our faux wedding! How are we going to do that?"
"Well, we're going to have to break it down into manageable pieces and just pull it all together," I said. "How about you work on the dress, flowers, and cake, and I'll work on the venue and the decorations?"
"But, Max, this is a fake wedding," she said. "Why are we going to go to all the trouble of staging an elaborate wedding if it's just a fake for Petrov's deal?"
"Because we need an event for all of Petrov's friends and he thinks we're getting married," I said looking at her. "And, because I need this, Lexi. I need this business to succeed."
"Okay, okay, I'm not arguing with you," she said, backing away from the questions. "I just have been trying to figure out my motivation."
"Motivation?"
"Yes, as an actress," she told me. "What's my character's motivation for marrying you?"
"Um, love?" I ventured. Lexi looked at me and burst out laughing.
"Obviously!" she laughed. "I just mean, what's our back story? People are going to ask how we met and how you proposed, you know."
"Can't it just be the one that we already have?" I asked. "You came to work for me and we just fell in love."
"Oh, Max, that's not at all interesting!" she cried. "We need a story, something that will give Petrov's friends a show!"
"I'm not good at show," I said uneasily. "It's not a thing I feel comfortable with."
"Why not?" she asked as she tipped her head, popped the last bit of toast into her mouth, and chewed.
"My father was very strict with my brother and I while we were growing up, and he taught us that we should never ever show off," I said, trying to come as close to the truth as possible without venturing into dangerous territory.
"That must have been some lesson." Lexi reached across the table and patted my hand. "It's okay, we'll think of something that doesn't make you feel vulnerable."
As she looked at me with compassion and kindness, I felt the words welling up in my chest and I wanted nothing more than to spill my whole sordid story and unburden myself, but I knew that if I did, I was risking everything with her. If she thought the Russian mafia gangs were barbarians, then what would she think of my place in the hierarchy and that my father was doing everything he could to try and bring me back to the fold? I swallowed the words and nodded silently.
I would deal with the situation on my own, as I always did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lexi
Max and I rode into work together, talking about business and the wedding. I was worried about what his family would say about this quick union since they lived in Chicago. My parents were missionaries who moved to a different country every year or two, and who I had rarely seen since I'd come back to the States to attend school when I was a teenager. I wouldn't even bother to tell them what had happened until it was all over and the store was fully funded, and then I'd tell them the story as though it was one of my greatest roles.
"So, I'm going to schedule dress fittings and cake tastings for next week," I said as I marked my to do list in my planner. "Oh, I forgot! I've got my audition this afternoon; do you mind if I take off a little early for it?"
"Do I have a choice?" he asked.
"Well, you are my boss, so I guess you could veto my request." I shrugged, then grinned. "But as my fake fiancée, that might not be the smartest move."
"Very well, if you insist," Max sighed dramatically, making me laugh. He was good at finding the humor in even the most serious situation, and I appreciated it because I could tell that he had a lot on his mind.
"Are Petrov's lawyers coming in with the paperwork today?" I asked.
"This morning when we open," he nodded. "We'll go over everything, then I’ll sign the papers and they'll transfer the initial influx of cash."
"What are you going to do first?" I asked. "With the money?"
"Pay you," he grinned.
"Very funny, Mr. Moneybags." I smiled as I lightly swatted his shoulder. "I'm the least of your expenses."
"Yes, but you are one of my most valuable investments," he said as he looked at me with his ice blue eyes. "Therefore, I pay you first."
"I see," I nodded, unable to look away. His eyes were full of all the things I knew he wasn't telling me, and while I wanted to try and pry it out of him, I knew better than to hound him. Max Malin was not a man who could be hounded into to disclosing things he wasn't ready to talk about – and his silent stoicism was also extremely sexy. I finally looked away and consulted my planner as I told him, "I'll be leaving around three, okay?"
"No problem, I think I can handle things for a couple of hours," he nodded as he looked at the screen of his phone and swore quietly under his breath. When he didn't explain, I knew better than to ask.
Petrov's lawyers arrived not long after we opened the store, and I sold six pieces while Max was locked up in the back room with them. It seemed that Sergei Petrov had told every single person he knew about his experience at the store; they were flooding in looking for one-of-a-kind pieces that they could give or wear. The men were charming and eager to find something that would please their wives, so they trusted me to help them pick out just the right piece of jewelry and then wrap it up in a showy package that would garner praise and appreciation.
I enjoyed it almost as much as helping the women who came into the store. They were elegant, well-dressed women who obviously spent their days taking care of their personal appearances, and it showed. The beautiful and brightly lacquered nails on their hands enhanced the beauty of every ring tried on, and their impeccably done hair and makeup made every set of earrings sparkle and shine brilliantly. It was like having my own, personal accessory models, and they not only tried things on, these women bought what they loved. Money was no object.
By the time Max emerged from the back room to escort the lawyers to the front of the store, I had sold over $50,000 worth of merchandise. Max looked over the display cases and made notes on what he needed to replace and what had not yet sold. Then, he asked me if I'd call and order lunch for us both while he made a few phone calls. A half an hour later, I brought him a plate of spicy Indian food from the restaurant down the street and put a cold beer in front of him.
"I'm working," he said as he looked from the beer to me.
"Yes, but you just spent the morning locked in a room with lawyers who probably came close to boring you to death." I smiled. "You deserve a reward for surviving."
"You're a great fake fiancée; you know that, don't you?" he laughed.
"I'm doing my best to be nice to the boss who finds me so valuable," I said quietly. Max looked up at me and for a moment, I seriously thought about leaning down and kissing those soft, full lips. It wouldn't have taken much for me to do it, but good sense won out and I cleared my throat before asking, "Need anything else right now?"
"No, I'm good. Thank you, Lexi," he said as he dug into the plate of chic
ken tikka and then drank deeply from the bottle I'd left on his desk. "I'll come out as soon as I'm done and give you a break."
"No worries," I said as I tried very hard to calm the storm that was brewing inside and tamp down the ache I felt every time I was near him. "I'm good. All good."
After lunch, we worked together on the sales floor until around three o'clock, when I packed up my things and told him I was heading out for my audition. I double and tripled checked that I had my script and made sure that I knew exactly where I was going before I headed out the door.
"Break a leg, fiancée," Max deadpanned as I pushed the door open.
"I'll do my best, Mr. Malin," I smiled as I stepped out into the sunshine and headed toward yet another possible future.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Max
Without Lexi in the showroom, the store felt empty, and I was rather surprised by how such a small person could fill such a large space. I busied myself polishing the display cases and making phone calls from the sales floor. Just before closing, I looked up to see a familiar face enter.
"Hello, Papa," I said warily as I watched my father scan the store and then look back at me. There was something dark in his eyes, and I knew from experience that he was either angry or, worse, drunk.
"Maksimka!" my father called as he walked toward me. "Why are you staying away from me?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked as I stood still behind a display case that I'd been polishing. "I just came and saw you a few days ago."
"Come give your Papa a big hug, Maksimka!" he bellowed. He was drunk, and now I knew how to deal with him, but it was going to be tricky. One wrong move and there would be hell to pay. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him hugging him tightly.
"I'm glad you could come visit the store, Papa," I lied.
"No you're not, don't lie to me, Maksim," he said in a voice that made me recoil. He was angry with me already and nothing I could do would placate him. I was going to have to weather whatever it was he was here to deliver and then walk away. I glanced around the showroom and sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn't do anything violent. "Moj syn, moj syn, moj syn, what are you doing here? What are you doing in a place like this? This is the place of the rich boys who have no balls, the weak and soft. What is a strong boy like you doing here, Maksim?"
I knew he was baiting me, so I held back and listened. He wanted something, this much I knew already, but specifically what he wanted, I had no idea. I knew that if I listened, he'd eventually tell me.
"Ah, this is beautiful, very Russian," he said as he walked around the showroom, peering into display cases and clicking his tongue. "You've picked out the best of the best, haven't you? Very nice. Your mother loved these kinds of pieces. She always asked me to find her favorites."
My heart started racing as he began speaking about my mother. This was a conversation I did not want to have because I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my cool if he started spewing his self-righteous tale of love and destiny. In my mind, he was responsible for my mother's death, and nothing he could ever say would change that fact, but I wasn't about to challenge him on it when he was drunk.
"Yes, Papa," I said.
"What? You don't believe me?" he yelled. "I always brought your mother a beautiful piece of jewelry when I traveled!"
"Yes, Papa," I repeating the phrase I'd learned was the only way to walk the line with him when he was like this. When I was fifteen, I'd made the mistake of trying to buck him when he was drunk, and he'd given me a lesson that left a scar across the side of my abdomen where he'd sliced me with a knife when I'd given him a flip response to a question that he'd considered serious in his drunken state. After that, I'd learned simply to respond with a simple "Yes, Papa," and never look him in the eye.
"You're such a wise guy, you know," he said as he leaned on a display case tapping the glass with his thick, dirty fingertip. "You think you can escape into this life? You think you're so much better than your brother and I, don't you? You move away from the neighborhood, buy a place in the rich part of town, and open this shop thinking you can escape and avoid the bratán. But you can't, Maksim."
"Yes, Papa," I said warily, eyeing his shoes and dirty work pants.
"Don't YES PAPA ME!" he bellowed as he slammed his fist down into the display case, causing the jewelry inside to rattle and shift. The cases were made of shatterproof glass – a safety measure that I was now very glad I'd invested in. "Don't give me the wise-guy yes Papa bullshit, Maksim! I'm your father and I deserve respect!"
"I understand, Papa," I said, trying to avoid enraging him further, but he wasn't having it tonight and he flew across the floor and launched himself at me, fists flying as he sought out a way to let go of the rage and pain. I stepped back and he fell on the floor in front of me at my feet. "Papa, please…" I said as I stretched out my hand to try and help him up.
"Don't!" he growled as he pushed himself up off of the floor and stood staring at me for a long time. "You need to come home, Maksimka. This war is growing worse by the day and we have no one who can lead."
"You are leading, Papa," I said, watching him warily.
"I'm not leading anymore, Maksim. I'm an old man and the young boys don't respect the old ways; they need a new leader. A leader who knows how to speak their language," he said in a voice that was both resigned and rebellious. "I am part of the old country; I don't know what they know. I don't run in the streets like they do or do the things they do. We didn't have cell phones and technology when I ran the vory v zakone when we first came to this country. Everything had changed, Maksim. Everything. It's time for new."
"Three months, Papa," I said, knowing that I had to stick to my guns or he would break me down and ruin any chance I had of getting out for good. I felt sad for my father, but there was nothing I could do to change what he'd been through or where he was headed. He'd made his own bed, now it was time for him to lie in it.
"We may not have three months, Maksim," my father replied quietly. "I know you think I'm trying to trick you or trap you into coming back, but the truth is that we don't have a lot of time. They young ones are killing each other in the streets and we need to stop it. We need someone who can negotiate a truce and keep the boys under an iron fist so that they don't run the business into the ground."
"Papa, you promised me three months," I said in a tone that gave away neither anger nor sympathy. "I'm going to do this for three months and then if I can't earn my first million, I will sell the shop and come back."
"You are a hard boy, Maksimka," my father said. 'You've always been a hard boy, not like Kristov. He's tough, but he's not hard and hard is what we need to maintain a hold on the business."
"I understand, Papa," I nodded. "Three months."
My father nodded and then turned and slowly walked toward the front door. When he reached it, he stopped and turned around to look at me.
"I know you think I am responsible for your mother's death, Maksim," he said quietly as he shook his head sadly. "I'm not. I loved your mother than life itself. I would never have hurt her, but whether or not you choose to believe that is always up to you. I'm just your father." And with that, he turned and walked out the door.
When it clicked behind him, I quickly walked over and turned the lock so that no one else could come in and then I went back to the office and sat with my head in my hands until the pounding in my chest slowed and my hands were no longer shaking.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRTY
Lexi
When I exited the theater after my audition, Max's driver was waiting for me. In the backseat was a post-audition kit: a cold bottle of water, a small box of Vosges chocolates, and a bouquet of pink roses that smelled like they'd just been cut. Among the roses, Max had tucked a note that said, "Celebrating your success tonight! Dinner on me! -M"
I laughed and inhaled deeply before popping a dark chili chocolate into my mouth and savoring its bittersweet flavor. I replayed the audition as the car mov
ed toward home and knew I had nailed the part, at least as far as I could tell. The director had told me that they wanted to call me back the next day for another audition with the actor who would play George. It felt like everything was going my way for a change.
It was dark by the time I arrived home, and as I slipped the key into the elevator and turned it, I sighed knowing that soon I would be able to shed the dress and heels I'd been wearing since early this morning and relax. When the elevator doors slid open, I gasped.
Max had prepared the place for my arrival, but he was nowhere to be seen. In the living room there was a bucket of ice with a bottle of expensive champagne chilling in it and a note that read, "Sip me now," along with another bouquet of roses, this time coral, and an enormous gift box wrapped in gold foil, tied with a shiny black bow. The card on it said, "Open me now."
I set my champagne down and opened the box as directed. In it was a gorgeous maxi dress in the same shade of coral as the roses. The note on the card inside the box read, "Wear me now." I laughed as I grabbed my glass of bubbly and walked to my bedroom, where I quickly stripped down and stepped into the shower. Once I'd scrubbed off the day, I dried myself, smoothed on a lightly scented lotion that made me smell like summer, and slipped into the beautiful dress.
I appraised myself in the mirror and smiled as I looked at my reflection from all angles and realized that Max had done the impossible: He'd picked out a dress that fit me like a glove. It wrapped around me to create a deep v between my breasts and was tightly fitted so that it hugged them and made them look bigger than they were. The waist was fitted with light layers of fabric cascading down to the ground around my feet, where it swirled like a cloud around my ankles. The effect was magical, and I grinned at myself as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, pinning my damp hair up into a loose pile on top of my head before fastening the necklace that Max had given me on my first day of work around my neck.
I stood back and laughed. I looked and felt like a princess going to the ball when, in fact, I was only heading into the kitchen for dinner. It didn't matter. What mattered was that I looked and felt beautiful, and I had Max to thank for that. I quickly scanned the room for Anna, and when I didn't find her, I walked down the hall to check Max's room. There, in the center of his huge bed, was my tiny gray kitten fast asleep. I left the door cracked open and walked back out past the living room into the kitchen.
