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She had a point. I was going to lose my mind and go apeshit if I stayed in this room any longer. My blood pressure would go over the roof with worry for my children, and I’d die from a cardiac arrest before Max even got the chance to kill me.
“I’m coming with you, but I need a shower.”
“You better hurry,” Lilianna said.
I nodded like a teenager who was running late for their classes. I took a quick shower and wore a pair of denim shorts and white shirts they brought with them. Holding my hair into a ponytail, I followed them downstairs.
Surprisingly, Ms. Popov didn’t seem angry with me. She served me breakfast with a smile that made me uneasy. I’d be much more comfortable if she ripped my hair out for holding a fork to her neck. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t bring myself to. She could help me out of here if she wanted, but she allowed Maxim to keep me hostage.
“So, Gianna,” Giselle started after breakfast when we went to lounge by the pool. “Mind sharing why you tried to kill Maxim?”
I snapped my head to her. “Is that why you were being nice to me? To get me to talk?”
She shook her head. “I’m just curious.”
“He killed my mother six years ago.” I winched at the memory of all the blood and my mother’s lifeless eyes staring back at me. “I’ll try to kill him again if I get the chance.”
Lilianna sat up. “Max wouldn’t do something like that.”
“You’re married to someone a lot worse than him, I imagine you’d think Max is a saint compared to your husband.” I immediately regretted saying that. She was just trying to be nice, and I took my anger out on her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine.” She took a sip of her orange juice. “There’s a stereotype of men who’re part of the mafia. I don’t blame you.”
“It’s not a stereotype. My father is the head of the Outfit. I grew up watching him.” A knot formed in my throat, and my voice cracked. “He wasn’t the best father.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Lilianna said. “To be honest, I thought the same when I first met Sergey. But when I got to know him, I realized he wasn’t a monster beneath the surface. He was just born in this world and had to do what he needed for him and his brothers to survive.”
“Maybe I’d have seen Maxim in that light if I didn’t know him well enough.” I swiped my tongue over my lips to keep it from drying out. “He deceived me.”
“Gia.” I dragged my attention to Giselle. “Hurting women is against the rules of the Bratva.”
“Yet here I am, kidnapped and locked up against my wish,” I bit out.
“It’s wrong that Maxim locked you up here.” She paused, swallowed, and continued. “But I truly don’t think he is capable of killing a woman.”
“I know what he is capable of. I saw it.” I didn’t really see it, but I saw my mother’s bloody body in my father’s arms. That image was still fresh in my memory. I looked at Lilianna. “Sergey might not be a monster to you, but Maxim is to me.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Would you like to see the art collections in my gallery?” Mariana asked suddenly, lightening up the mood. I was happy about the change of topic. I couldn’t stomach any more talk about what Maxim was incapable of, mostly because I was starting to believe it myself.
I was afraid, what if I found out I hated him so much for something he didn’t do? I’d have suffered for nothing, been my father’s puppet for nothing. Maybe I was a coward, but it was easier to believe he was the monster I thought he was.
We spent the rest of the day swimming and chatting about things that didn’t matter. It felt good because I’d never had friends, my papa made sure of it. After I ran away, I was too busy taking care of my kids and working to make any. I also feared my father would find me more easily if too many people knew me, so I laid low.
The girls stayed for lunch and left a few hours later. I returned to my room, now alone and sad again.
Ryan and Daylan.
Had they had dinner yet? They love chicken wings and French fries, and my father had enough money to spoil them if he wanted to. He was abusive and all, but he wouldn’t really hurt children, right? I had to believe that to remain sane.
I’d almost drifted off to sleep when someone unlocked the door and entered. I sat up, my mouth watering at how handsome Maxim was. His good looks were the reason I fell for him six years ago. We’d connected almost instantly, chatting away and drinking. The next minute, we were dancing, and we woke up naked the following morning.
Bitter nostalgia churned in my stomach.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper in the dimly lit room. He towered above me, and my eyes drank him in like good, expensive wine.
“No,” I returned in the same low tone.
