Page 27 of Scarred Bratva King

“You handled that like a pro,” she says, her voice warm and approving. “Sounded very real from out here. Not that I was listening, of course.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I reply, smirking. “I’m a great actor.”

13

MAXIM

She’s inside the mansion somewhere, getting ready for bed. I want the cold of the night for a little longer. My grip tightens on the cane in my hand as I walk in the grounds.

The thought of letting her go after sixty days—it’s like a stone lodged in my throat. How can I keep her? She doesn’t belong in this world soaked in blood.

“Maxim.”

My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to see him approaching, his expression as cold as ever. They say Victor Stepanov never walks; he rolls in like a storm, deliberate and unstoppable.

“Father,” I greet him, keeping my tone neutral. “To what do I owe the honor of your company?”

He stops a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over me like he’s weighing every flaw, every weakness. “I heard your theatrics at the engagement party,” he says, jerking his head toward the path that winds through the garden.

“Traditions must be upheld.”

“That why you’re sleeping in separate bedrooms?”

“Until the wedding, of course.”

I fall into step beside him as we walk. The gravel crunches under our shoes, the silence between us thick with unspoken expectations. “This is all very convenient,” he says after a minute’s silence.

“What is?”

“I’ve never heard of this woman. You think your song and dance routine will convince me this is real?”

“What’s your problem? You wanted me to get married. It’s happening. You should be happy.”

“A whirlwind romance with a woman no one’s ever heard of before? Bullshit.”

“It is real,” I reply evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “And she’s Elena’s best friend, not some random civilian.”

He snorts, a sound that carries more disbelief than amusement. “Tomorrow, I’ll speak to both of you. Together. If you’re lying, I’ll know.”

I stop walking, turning to face him. “You’re questioning my judgment?”

“I’m questioning whether you understand what’s at stake,” he counters, his voice rising just enough to cut through the cool night air. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about the family. I need a grandchild to keep the bloodline going. Do you think our enemies will sit idle if they sense weakness?”

“There is no weakness,” I snap. “Veronica and I?—”

“You and the civilian,” he interrupts, stepping closer, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “Do you even know her? Or is this just another one of your games? Because if it is, Maxim, it will cost you everything.”

“Elena was a civilian. You had no problem with that.”

“Because Dmitri retired to be with her. You’ll be ruling the city. You won’t have time to go fucking half of New York. I want you settled with an heir on the way as fast as possible. This life is dangerous and you know it.”

“Look, you want me to get married, it’s happening. I don’t give a shit whether you like her or not.”

He snarls. “Taste has nothing to do with this. It’s about whether you’re using her to inherit. Are you tricking me, Maxim? Because from where I was standing, it looked like obsession and not love in there. Obsessions don’t last, trust me.”

“Why do you care as long as you get your precious grandkids?”

He gives me a cold smile. “You’re planning to kill Vito Lombardi.” He points at my scar. “I want justice for that as much as you. But what makes you think you’ll succeed where everyone else has failed?”

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