Demented Devil, page 2
Lev emerged seconds later. He disposed of his apron and gloves.
“What next?” Lev asked.
“I will leave Peter to you. Find out what other important information he has divulged to the Fedorovs,” Maxim said.
“And what will you do, brother?” Lev asked, his emotionless gray eyes boring into Maxim’s.
Maxim sighed. “I have a funeral viewing to attend.”
Lev nodded. “I heard. The woman you were supposed to marry was killed. I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?” Maxim asked, amused.
Was Maxim sorry Aurora Bianchi was dead? Certainly, but she was a complete stranger to him, a means to an end.
The Bianchi Familia might be losing some of the influence they once held on the city, but they were still one of the largest weapons distributors in the region.
Lev shrugged. “It’s the right thing to say.”
Maxim clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Will this affect us badly?” Lev asked him.
He sounded genuinely concerned. Lev frightened most of Maxim’s men, but their fears were irrelevant. If there was one thing Maxim could count on in this world, it was his brother’s loyalty to him and the Semenov Bratva.
“Not at all. Old man Lorenzo has another daughter. This situation can be salvaged,” Maxim said. “I will head to their home, pay my respects to Lorenzo, and take a peek at this second daughter of his. The one he’s ashamed of.”
Lev followed Maxim out of the basement and to the second floor. They entered Maxim’s private bedroom. Maxim changed out of his shirt and jacket.
Initially, Maxim had planned on wearing the same suit to the viewing, but it had gotten wrinkled and sweaty during Peter’s interrogation. Maxim, of all people, understood the power of appearances. He fixed his tie then smoothed his hair. Lev hadn’t left his side the entire time, and Maxim wondered if there was something else Lev wanted.
“So you’re not bothered you’d be marrying the other daughter?” Lev asked. “You said Lorenzo was ashamed of her.”
It surprised Maxim that this conversation had gone on this long. Lev had never shown interest in anything but affairs concerning the family.
“I will admit that Aurora Bianchi and I would have been a more ideal match,” Maxim admitted.
Aurora had established herself as a well-known figure in her father’s company. Instead of marrying the dutiful daughter, Maxim would be getting a wild card. Maxim wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Lev said nothing, so Maxim continued, “Ultimately, this new arrangement will work just fine. Lorenzo needs this alliance badly. The Rossi Familia has already begun moving on their turf.”
“Do you need me by your side?” Lev asked.
“That won’t be necessary. This will just be a simple social call,” Maxim said. “I rather you work on Peter.”
“Good luck,” Lev said, moving to the door.
“I don’t need it, brother,” Maxim said.
Lev chuckled, and Maxim smiled. He couldn’t recall the last time he ever heard his brother laugh.
Maxim took one last look at his reflection and nodded in satisfaction. Put a monster in a ten-thousand-dollar suit and he would always look like a gentleman despite his scars and tattoos.
It was time to pay Lorenzo Bianchi and his daughter, Maxim’s future bride, a visit.
****
They held the viewing at the Bianchi family home. It was located in the older and wealthier neighborhood of Giland City as opposed to the newer and up-and-coming neighborhood where the Semenov headquarters was located. The colonial-style Bianchi mansion sat on 6,000 acres of lush and well-manicured landscape.
Once in front of the wrought-iron gates, Maxim’s driver gave the security guards his name. They seemed to expect Maxim because they immediately let them through.
Ivan, Maxim’s third, had insisted on accompanying him to this meeting. Protesting would have wasted more time, so Maxim had allowed him to come.
The driver dropped Ivan and Maxim off in the driveway.
A butler stood by the front door to greet guests. It seemed Ivan and Maxim weren’t the only ones paying their respects. Many of Lorenzo’s extended family members were present, Maxim noted, and some of them gave Ivan and him openly unfriendly looks.
“Doesn’t seem like we’re welcomed here,” Ivan murmured softly next to Maxim as they entered the house.
This wasn’t Maxim’s first time at the Bianchi family home. Maxim knew Lorenzo’s tastes ran to ornate and heavy furniture while Maxim preferred simple and functional pieces.
“Not everyone in Lorenzo’s family wants this alliance,” Maxim said with a shrug.
The viewing was held in the family living room. Lorenzo’s guests gathered in small groups.
There were a few important guests present that Maxim had done business with. Some of them stopped to speak to him. Lev never understood how effortlessly Maxim could talk and mingle with others. Maxim listened with half an ear to Nancy Reynolds, the wife of the mayor.
She rambled on and on about how tragic it was that such a young and promising woman had passed away from this world. Maxim doubted she even knew Aurora Bianchi personally. Spotting his prey, Maxim broke away from the group.
He had seen one picture of Sofia Bianchi when he last visited the house. A dark-haired, dark-eyed, curvy beauty, Sofia stood awkwardly next to her slim and golden-haired sister. The photo had been taken during Aurora’s college graduation. Apart from that one photo, Maxim had seen no other pictures of Sofia.
Lorenzo had once mentioned that Sofia was a disappointment, a mere shadow of her accomplished sister. Personally, Maxim preferred blondes, but something about Sofia intrigued him. Not that it mattered back then.
Lorenzo and Maxim made an agreeable business arrangement. The Don of the Bianchi Familia needed Maxim’s men and the reputation that came with allying himself with the most feared Bratva family in the city. Maxim needed Lorenzo’s guns and a daughter who would bear Maxim his heir.
Sofia stood by her sister’s coffin, dressed in a simple strapless knee-length dress and nude flats. She kept moving her hands, as if she didn’t know where to put them. No one spoke to her or addressed her.
She reminded Maxim of a fish out of water, a sad little ghost everyone had forgotten.
“Stay in one corner, and watch the room,” Maxim told Ivan.
He gave Maxim a curt nod.
As Maxim approached Sofia, he realized she was the only person in this room who didn’t bother with masks.
Her dark eyes held unshed tears, her skin deathly pale. She looked at no one, just the coffin.
It didn’t matter how ornate Aurora’s coffin appeared—polished walnut inlaid with genuine gold. The coffin lid was closed.
Morbidly, Maxim wondered how mangled Aurora Bianchi’s body had been when Lorenzo’s men had retrieved it.
From the information Maxim’s men had gathered, an unknown sniper had taken the shot from the opposite building. Lorenzo still didn’t know who had been responsible for the kill. At least not yet. His information network was vast as Maxim’s
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Maxim murmured next to Sofia.
She didn’t even notice Maxim had made his way toward her. She didn’t look at him.
“Everyone says that,” Sofia murmurs. “Empty words. Most guests here didn’t even know Aurora. Not really.”
“And you do?” Maxim pressed, intrigued by her answer. “Tell me more about her.”
“Whatever Aurora set her mind to, she did it perfectly. Riding horses, piano lessons, business school.” Sofia let out a bitter laugh. She looked like she needed a drink badly. “My exact opposite.”
“She sounds incredibly boring.”
“One of us had to be father’s instrument,” Sofia answered and finally looked at Maxim for the first time.
The widening of her dark-brown eyes and the way her luscious lips parted slightly told Maxim she knew exactly who he was.
“Maxim Semenov. What the hell are you doing here?” Sofia demanded.
Maxim liked how his name rolled off her tongue, liked how in a few seconds, Sofia had turned from a vulnerable flower to a fiery woman not afraid to speak her mind.
In those few moments Sofia was talking to a complete stranger, she had mistakenly allowed herself to be vulnerable. That had been her mistake.
“Paying my respects to your father. We’re friends, in case you don’t know,” Maxim answered, placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
“You and my father are not friends. Once you get what you need from him, you’ll turn on him like everyone else.”
The vehemence in her voice surprised both of them. Maxim raised an eyebrow at her, and Sofia flushed.
“Then perhaps allies would have been a better word to use. Normally, I do not allow women I’ve just met to speak so rudely to me, but since you’re grieving, I’ll make this moment an exception,” Maxim said.
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this rude to guests, even to opportunistic ones like you,” Sofia quickly said. “Crap. I just did it again.” She nervously tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from her tight bun. Maxim reached out behind her.
Sofia stilled as he gently tugged away the black band holding her glorious hair in a plain bun.
Maxim threaded his fingers through her glorious locks. Leaning in close, he inhaled the smell of her shampoo.
“Jasmine,” Maxim murmured. “Wonderful.”
Sofia pulled away, staring at him open-mouthed. Since she rewarded Maxim with her genuine self and didn’t hold back her emotions, then it was only right Maxim didn’t play games with her.
“You asked what I was doing here,” Maxim told her plainly. “I came to pay my respects to your father. That was one reason. Can you guess the other one?”
Chapter Three
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sofia blurted, but she did.
Maxim knew she just lied through her teeth because the barest hint of a smile appeared on his lips. How could the beautiful, dark-haired, and gray-eyed monster look so good in an expensive suit?
If Sofia looked closer, she could see the black stars hidden under the collar of his shirt. More tattoos covered the backs of his hands.
Sofia had grown up around men like Maxim all her life and yet a part of her whispered that there could be no other man like him. Maxim leaned in close to her ear as if to divulge a secret. She could have pulled away and told him to keep his distance, but she did neither of those things.
“Your house is on the verge of ruin, Sofia. An alliance with me would save everything you hold dear. I am still in need of a bride,” the demented devil whispered.
How dare he? The reminder that this cold-hearted bastard only wanted a wife, and it didn’t matter who he married, made Sofia remember she was way out of her league with this man.
“Step away from me,” she said in a firm voice.
To her shock, he did, but the sinister smile hadn’t left his lips. Damn it. The arrogant jerk just had to remind her of the promise she had made to her sister.
“Maxim, thank you for coming,” Lorenzo interrupted. He strode toward them with Aldo by his side. “I see you have met Sofia. I hope she didn’t prove to be too much of a disappointment.”
Sofia stared daggers at her father. Then his hurtful words finally sank in. Her father had expected Maxim to come to the service.
Did Lorenzo personally invite him here so he could meet her? If Maxim couldn’t marry Aurora, then he would have to settle for Sofia?
Sofia still hadn’t had the opportunity to grieve her sister, and her detestable father had already made a deal with the devil. Anger stirred inside her, foreign and hot. Her chest tightened. It hurt to breathe.
Sofia turned away from their conversation and took the empty seat facing her sister’s coffin. An empty coffin.
Right after the shooting and once Aldo had secured Sofia in the car, he had called two associates. He ordered them to retrieve Aurora’s body before the police arrived. It was gone by the time they arrived.
It sickened Sofia to think whoever killed Aurora kept her corpse captive to torment Sofia and her family.
Someone else joined Sofia in the empty row of seats. Aunt Elena was her mother’s sister. She was the Director of Finance in the company.
“He’s not so bad-looking, you know,” she said. “You could have done with worse. At least it is not Maxim’s psychotic brother you will be marrying.”
“Can we not talk about Maxim Semenov right now? Leave me to grieve my sister,” Sofia answered angrily.
“Sofia,” Elena said, reaching for one of Sofia’s hands. Her touch didn’t bring Sofia any comfort.
Like Aurora and most of the women in the familia, Elena had learned the lesson of hiding her emotions early. Aurora often said Sofia took after their mother, who’d been spirited and fierce until her death. Sofia wouldn’t know because she had few memories of her.
“The women in this family have certain responsibilities we cannot simply turn our back on. We learn early that there are times we have to make sacrifices for the familia,” Elena said.
“You were happily married to Uncle Flynn for three decades,” Sofia argued.
“I married your Uncle Flynn because the familia needed ties to the Irish Mafia,” Elena said.
Sofia finally saw the hardness in Elena’s eyes. The truth. Sofia always believed at the very least, one woman in this family had been given the ability to choose their husband freely.
Of course, it had not been that way for Aunt Elena. Her parents’ match had been arranged as well. Over time, her parents had grown to respect each other.
Those few years Sofia’s mother had been alive, her father loved her. At least, that was what Sofia believed.
“I cannot marry that monster, Aunt Elena,” Sofia whispered. “I’m not as strong as Aurora.”
“You can and you will,” Elena said. She tightened her grip on Sofia’s hand. “Sofia, your days of thinking only about yourself have ended. You have strayed from the familia far too long. It is good you finally came back to us.”
Sofia debated running the moment Aldo had taken her safely back to the house. Only the promise she made to Aurora kept her here. This house had never felt like home to Sofia, merely a prison holding her back from her dreams.
Deep down, maybe Sofia always knew she’d eventually make her way back here.
At that moment, Sofia cursed Aurora for dying young, for making her make that awful promise. Her father considered Sofia an embarrassment, the weak link. Sofia had never been as strong as her sister was, but at the very least, Sofia could pretend.
“I am not your mother, but I can only offer you this one piece of advice. Don’t make it hard for yourself. Fighting the inevitable will only leave you with heartache. Establish rules with your future husband early and stand by them firmly. Let him know you draw the line somewhere.” Elena smoothed her dress and stood up.
Not long after, her father occupied the seat she had abandoned. Vaguely, Sofia wondered if the pair had agreed to tag-team her beforehand.
He didn’t speak immediately. They both gazed at Aurora’s closed coffin.
“Is there any news? About Aurora’s remains?” Sofia asked, deciding to speak first.
Lorenzo shook his head. Sofia expected him to look angry, but he seemed subdued.
Growing up, Sofia always compared her father to an immovable force to be reckoned with. The white strands mingling with his dark hair and the tired lines of his face reminded Sofia he was only human.
“Sofia, I’m sure your Aunt Elena has spoken to you about duty,” her father said, not looking at her.
“We do not need to have this conversation, Father,” Sofia answered.
She could tell her response surprised him, and Lorenzo Bianchi wasn’t an easy man to shock.
She continued and pushed out the next words through gritted teeth. “I will marry Maxim Semenov in Aurora’s place.”
****
“You look beautiful, Sofia. Like a princess, especially with Maxim’s gift,” one of Sofia’s cousins said. Silvia stood back and enviously gazed at the diamond tiara on her head. It held the veil in place.
Sofia hated it all. Maxim’s gift felt like a crown of thorns, the tiny diamonds constantly biting into her forehead. The veil was also everywhere.
Sofia wanted to claw out the thin fabric and do away with it. She disliked the dress as well, even though Aunt Elena and she spent three hours in the wedding dress shop just to pick a dress that suited her curvy body shape.
The A-line wedding dress Sofia wore cost more than what she made in three months for her freelance graphic design work.
Sweat beaded Sofia’s brow and formed on her back, plastering the uncomfortable filmy fabric against her skin.
Feeling nauseous, Sofia sat back down and gazed at her reflection. A stranger stared back at Sofia. A beautiful and frightened bride. Sofia didn’t even know how she could walk out of this temporary dressing room and face all the waiting people in the church.
Strangers she barely knew, guests from Maxim’s side of the family and hers mingling, enemies becoming temporary allies.
“Your eyeliner needs to be fixed,” Silvia was saying.
“Leave me alone for a few moments. Please.” Sofia shot her a pleading look.
Her cousin hesitated. Silvia was Elena’s oldest daughter, and Elena probably assigned her to be Sofia’s assistant today to ensure Sofia didn’t escape.
“Understood. I’ll be right outside the door,” Silvia said.
Once Silvia closed the door behind Sofia, she walked to the only window in the room. It took Sofia a few seconds to get the latch open.
The cool breeze helped her think. She breathed in and out.
Out on the street, two kids tossed a baseball at each other. Expensive cars lined the street, and they stuck out like sore thumbs in the graffiti-covered neighborhood.
The cars would remain unmolested. It seemed the entire city knew Sofia’s wedding to Maxim was today.
“Aurora, give me strength,” Sofia whispered.
Pretending to be her sister proved to be the hardest thing Sofia had ever done. The past month had been a whirlwind of wedding planning activities.
