THE FIXER

“I will leave my interest in all the oil wells to Sasha, only so long as she is married to you. You will manage her financial interests and protect her from threats. If she dies before she bears children, the interest transfers to Vladimir, who is charged with leading the Moscow cell and carrying for Galina, her mother.”

“You’re selling me,” I choke from the corner.

He is-just like he sold my mother.

“Silence!” My father throws up a hand in my direction, not even deigning to look my way.

Maxim turns, though. He gives me a long, considering look, probably reminding himself how I ruined his life. He could have Vladimir’s place at the helm of the bratva now if it hadn’t been for me.

I press my lips together, so he won’t see them tremble.

“She is not a virgin,” my father says, like he’s apologizing for delivering flawed goods.

I want to puke.

“She had a wild period out of my control when she went to college in America. But then, you are used to American women, no?”

Still, Maxim says nothing.

“You will do this for me,” my father says. It’s not a question, it’s an order, but he watches Maxim’s face intently, looking for clues. “Take her back to Chicago with you. Keep her out of the fray-protected and safe. Enjoy her money.”

Maxim scrubs a hand over his face.

“You can punish her for the lie she told about you. No hard feelings, eh? You’ve done well for yourself in America. I hear Ravil lives like a king, and you enjoy the benefits.”

I go still, hearing that my father knew I lied.

“And if I die first?” Maxim asks, all business. This is a transaction. My father’s offering a dowry for my hand. “Who holds the interest in trust for Sasha?”

“Vladimir,” my father says.

Maxim gives his head a small shake. Vladimir’s in the room, but Maxim doesn’t look his way. “Make it Ravil,” he says. Ravil is the boss of the Chicago branch of bratva and Maxim’s boss since his banishment.

My father considers, then looks at Vladimir. “Make the change,” he orders. “And send in the clerk.”

Vladimir immediately leaves the room.

“You will do this for me,” my father repeats, looking at Maxim.

Maxim bows his head. “I will.”

“Do not disrespect my name by disrespecting my daughter.”

“Never,” Maxim says immediately. He turns again and studies me. Something flutters in my low belly at his dark gaze. If my father has his way, I will belong to this man. He will control me completely. My entire destiny is in his hands.

But I’m not going to lie down and play the submissive, doting, always available mistress my mother did.

Screw that.

I’m going to fight back.

Maxim

FUCK. Me.

There’s no way I would refuse Igor his dying wish-or order, as the case may be. But this one is a fucking doozy.

I have to marry Sasha, his mafiya princess brat. The one who ruined my life. Not that I regret leaving Moscow. Igor’s right-life is so much easier in Chicago under Ravil’s rule. I don’t constantly feel like a knife’s about to go into my back the way I did here. But now I will again.

Of course, that’s why he needs me to marry her.

Igor’s oil well interests are worth at least sixty million. And his colleagues are unsavory, at best. We are the brotherhood of thieves, after all. So I have to presume at least thirty men will have their eyes on stealing that fortune in whatever way they can-killing Sasha, killing me, or even taking out the entire Chicago cell.

But I’m the fixer. Like Ravil, a master strategist, I have a reputation for outthinking my opponents. Igor knows his friends and enemies alike will think twice before they try to steal his fortune if it’s in my care.

I take a good look at my unwilling, manipulative bride. She’s even more beautiful than she was at seventeen, when I found her naked in my bed, set on seducing me.

She’s drop-dead gorgeous, like her mother. Long, thick red hair. High cheekbones, porcelain skin. She has bright blue eyes and Cupid’s bow lips. Her narrowed gaze is filled with hurt and rage.

Blyat. I will have my hands full with her.

Vladimir returns with the papers and a nervous-looking government official-I presume a clerk from the Department of Public Services. Someone probably paid or threatened him into making this a house-call instead of us going there.

If it were anyone besides Igor, I would demand to review his will to make sure the agreement is really as he states. But it’s Igor, the man who literally saved my life, took me under his wing, and made me the man I am today. I’m not going to insult him. If his dying demand is that I marry his daughter, I’ll do it.

Then again, Vladimir could be trying to fuck my bride out of her money, which is exactly the reason Igor inserted me into this mess. I keep my voice low and respectful. “Do you wish me to review it first, Papa?”

He considers me for a moment, then nods, so I take the sheaf of papers and skim through as quickly as I can. There are provisions for Galina, but all through Vladimir. Other than the oil interest, Igor’s only legitimate business holdings, everything else goes to Vladimir, with strict provisions that he provides monthly allowance and protection to Galina.

The oil interest goes in a trust to Sasha, with me as trustee. We must remain married, or we forfeit the wells, and they go to Vladimir, or in his absence, Galina. If she dies first, Vladimir becomes the trustee. If I die first, Ravil. I nod and hand the papers to Igor to sign.

The clerk clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“We’re ready,” I tell him.

Galina propels an angry Sasha forward to stand beside me. “This isn’t happening,” she complains in English, perhaps so her father won’t understand. She’s lucky she speaks it, or her new life would be even harder.

“Do you have rings to exchange?” the sweating clerk asks me.

“No.” I shake my head.