"I understood his motivations to secure her for his own. Natalie's lovely and kind, speaks Russian fluently, and was a PhD student. Also, she's wealthier than I am."
While Maxim was screwing around with the broke-ass, fugitive hooker.
Oh, to be rolling again. Though my family had never come close to having a billion dollars, the worth of Martinez Beach continued to skyrocket.
"Aleksandr has changed for her. For the better." Maxim sounded contemplative, like his words only skimmed the surface of what was going on in his head. "I didn't think it was possible for men our age to change. What do you think? It's your job to know men."
"If the incentive is strong enough, I think some can change." Just not a sociopath like Edward.
"You make it sound so simple. Aleksandr wanted her more than he wanted his old ways, so he cast them aside?" He drank his shot.
I joined him. "Maybe it is that simple."
"He told me that he'd revealed everything of himself to her. The good and the bad. He unburdened himself, is now free of secrets." Maxim poured yet again. "I envied him bitterly. He also told me he knew--within a day of seeing Natalie--that he would love no other woman. That she was it for him. Do you think it's possible for a man to know such a thing so early?"
What a strange turn for this conversation. "I think you can have that feeling. But I don't know if it will last."
"If you saw the two of them together, you'd know they will stand the test of time," he said. "Just before I flew here, I visited them in her home state of Nebraska. He'd invited me there to ask me to be his best man."
"Did that surprise you?"
"Utterly."
"Is he in the mafiya like you?" I asked.
"In the years we were parted, he became a gunman, and I became the head of my own operation. Not quite rivals, but certainly not allies."
"Gunman? As in a hit man?"
"He'd probably prefer the term enforcer. He was basically a soldier for his boss, fighting against a rival syndicate. But no longer."
"And you want to go into business with him."
"The more I get to know him, the more I see he is ruthless but honorable. For all his faults, he's an honest man. The idea of partnering with someone I could actually trust is mind-boggling to me. Together we could take over Russia. But he doesn't trust me yet. Two months ago, he feared having his fiancee in the same room with me."
"Why would he ask you to be his best man?"
"At Natalie's prodding, I'm sure."
"Why did he feel that way about you?"
"He heard I'd turned into a callous man who enjoyed playing with others' lives. He believed I had grown up to take after our father--or at least the coldhearted, scheming side of him. We despised our father."
Had that man whipped Maxim's back? "Was Aleksandr right about you? Being scheming and coldhearted?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "Yes. It's called being a politician. Though I do admit to goading Aleksandr. When he thought me a danger to him, I gave him no reason to disbelieve it. Not for many years."
A danger? "Why?"
"Maybe because it amused me."
Por Dios. "Why were you separated from your brothers?"
He skirted the question, saying, "Only from one. Dmitri and I remain close."
They talked often enough.
"With Natalie at his side, Aleksandr improves. But Dmitri . . ." He trailed off. "What?"
"He's angry and damaged by events in the past. I struggle with accepting that he always will be."
Those same events must have something to do with Maxim's scars. Did Dmitri bear similar ones? Did Aleksandr? "I'm sorry."
"I sit in the middle between two brothers. One tells me the future can be bright, and the other tells me the past will darken all of our days. What do you have to say about that?"
"Both could be right. It all depends on what kind of man you are."
Quiet.
"Maxim, what if Dmitri turned his life around, despite his past? A sword has to know the anvil and hammer just to be born, no? What if he realized that if he could overcome whatever makes him angry and damaged, the victory could be the very thing that makes him stronger?" I could only hope this for myself. Better things await you. . . .
"Understand me," Sevastyan grated, "I would do anything for that."
"Would you? Then why don't you do it first, then show him how?"
A gust of breath left his lips. "You led me right into that, didn't you?"
I held his gaze. "Somebody needed to."
He stared at me, silent, for what felt like an hour. Then he abruptly rose and left the room.
"You're welcome for dinner," I muttered. "So glad you enjoyed it. Same time next year?" Furious with myself for thinking we'd been making progress, I headed to the torchlit balcony.
The air was as warm as on our first night in the pool. At the balcony rail, I gazed out.
Somewhere down the beach, a band played Latin music, soft strains reaching me. Sailboats dotted the dark water, their masts alight for Christmas.
"Did you make any headway?" He rolled his head on his neck.
I slid him a cocky grin. "I completed cursory determinations on all nine proposals, querido. I was about to play solitaire while I waited on you."
"Let's see them."
"You want to read them? Now?" I was suddenly nervous.
He snagged my computer. "Now."