Page 11
Story: One of Them (Beyond Ties #1)
I both felt and heard Malek’s presence before he even reached for the door handle. The stupidest and most useful skill I’d picked up.
As soon as he walked in, I knew something was happening between him and Ilya. Some dick-measuring contest I wanted no part of. The latter avoided the topic like the plague.
For the first time since we had known each other, Ilya purposely withheld information from me.
Ironic, since he knew nothing about my life. This was different. Ilya’s choices were going to affect us all, and he seemed set on making all the moves in one night.
“Taya,” Malek’s voice carried a hint of longing when he spoke the name. My name.
“Malek,” I acknowledged his presence from where I sat, fingers wrapped around the delicate flute of champagne the room offered.
“It’s been a while,” he noted, his heated glances burning my skin.
My tone was polite and professional, given the present company. “Can’t say much has changed.”
Nothing, in fact.
“I missed you, solnishko ,” Malek beamed while I tensed at his words, tightening my grip on the glass.
Here? Now? In front of all these people? And who in their right mind uses Russian pet names, meant for private use only, now spoken in front of a bunch of native speakers?
I examined his face, eyeing him curiously. Nothing seemed to have changed either. Malek looked exactly as I remembered him. Tall, with slicked-back raven hair, his muscular body packed with lean muscles I’d traced with my tongue not long ago.
Every bit the soldier from the street, they described him as.
Despite the initial shock, I can’t say his statement surprised me. It was more the timing. I suspected Malek had a harder time moving on from our brief fling than I did.
These fucking men could pretend to be all tough and detached, yet one way or another, they were all hooked. All possessed weaknesses. Had attachments. Feelings in some capacity. Women, addictions, greed, money.
Don’t they say everyone can be bought? They can also be hurt just the same.
Malek, walking in with his obsessive declarations, complicated everything. Not in the head, no; my thoughts on the matter were clear. Moreover, he wasn’t a man I wanted to be connected to. Especially now.
I could do without the attention his obsession brought along. He was coming for Ilya’s position. Or at least had long-term ambitions. I can’t be seen as a part of the movement .
If only I possessed the ability to predict the future when I gave myself to him months ago.
Thinking of an appropriate response, given the situation I found myself in, I breathed out, “I…”
“Wow,” the man seated furthest spoke, getting everyone’s attention. “I didn’t know this meeting came with a show.”
By interrupting me, he certainly saved Malek from the public embarrassment of being turned down. No ‘missed you too’ would come out of my mouth.
Malek’s head snapped toward the direction of the voice, assessing the owner. “You must be Maxim.”
“That’s me. And you are?” With his gaze locked on me, it was painfully obvious Malek wasn’t the one Maxim was interested in getting to know.
Either I amused him, or he was doing his best to get on Malek’s nerves.
My mouth opened a crack before Ilya answered for me. “Taya.”
His insertion ticked me off. I didn’t need him speaking for me.
The rest of the table watched closely, not breathing a sound, while the four of us entertained.
Maxim never dropped his gaze, and I stared right back. A moment passed before he smiled, blinked, and turned his tattooed neck elsewhere.
I swear he just winked at me. Did anyone catch that? Who did I piss off to end up at this table filled with insane men?
Enzo better have a drink waiting for me.
While I brewed, Maxim continued inquiring, “What kind of twisted love triangle do we have going on here?” He motioned between the three of us with his inked hand before finally setting his eyes on Ilya. “And you plan for my sister to fall into this, how, exactly? Please, do tell.”
His tone wasn’t Pakhan-friendly, but clearly he didn’t care.
Ilya sat up straight, his mouth set in a straight line. “Taya and I are long-term friends,” he clarified, not sparing Alisa a glance. “What’s between her and Malek isn’t my business. ”
Maxim zeroed in on me again, awaiting a response. I looked at Malek instead, hoping for his reaction, but it was clear he was glad for the chance to put a label on us.
The entire situation felt very much like a ‘no, you do it’ moment, with everybody pointing at someone else, and I grew more tired with each passing second.
Patience at an ultimate low, I left it all out there. “We fucked.”
Somewhere down the table, a cough sounded, but I didn’t inquire whose.
Intending to stare down Maxim, the current source of my irritation, I expanded on the statement. “You know, that’s when two consenting adults agree to do something that is none of your fucking business.”
A look of approval flashed on his face before he smiled, almost creepily. “Feisty.” The word rolled off his tongue. “I wouldn’t be asking if Romeo here,” he pointed to Malek, seated on the opposite side, “didn’t march in with hearts instead of eyes.”
Point taken.
“We aren’t here for me or Malek.”
I turned my attention to the only other woman present.
Alisa. I caught a brief glimpse of her earlier.
She walked by the bar with such ease, I had to focus on her feet to convince myself she wasn’t floating.
Born to walk the runway, stuck between strong-headed gangsters.
Her dress was a stunning white with lace sleeves.
Her golden-brown hair, a family trait, cut shoulder-length, was perfectly styled.
The bride looked every bit ready for the occasion.
She appeared well-suited for the role of the wife of their leader, judging by her looks, which is exactly what they did. What we all gathered here for: to judge and deem her worthy of the position.
“Alisa, right? Great to meet you. I’m Taya,” I spoke softly, ignoring the eyes on me. “I work with Ilya, but you have nothing to fear. ”
She seemed to appreciate the change of topic just as much. Alisa revealed her perfect smile, gracefully greeting me back. “Hi, Taya.”
When silence filled the dining room, Malek addressed the boss. “Pakhan, you called the meeting.”
It was strange to hear the title come from his mouth.
Ilya didn’t move, didn’t look his way. Instead, he spoke to no one in particular. “With the wedding approaching, I want to go over the changes this union will bring.”
“Please,” Andrei encouraged him respectfully. The man had class, unlike his brother, who still threw occasional glances my way.
“Now that I’m marrying your sister,” Ilya addressed the Galkins, “Andrei will become my third in command. After Malek.” His eyes flashed to Malek briefly, almost daring him to intercept, before settling on the rest of the Galkin siblings.
“Since I’ll need Andrei here, you and your brother will take over the responsibilities in Philadelphia. ”
“Gladly,” Luka, the youngest of the men, answered.
“There is also the matter of planning,” Ilya said, moving down the list. “I expect traditions to be upheld. We’ve discussed this, so Alisa knows what needs to be done.”
This version of Ilya was new to me. I first saw him as a friend. I heard his command as a Pakhan. But whoever this was wasn’t him. I wondered if Malek’s presence affected him more than he let on.
Over the years, I learned how to read people. Ilya was the very definition of a brat. Everything fell right into his lap, and it still wasn’t enough.
Despite his position, he questioned himself a lot. The biggest fault was that he wasn’t particularly good at hiding it. It wasn’t my place to say, so I took a mental note and refrained from commenting.
With a silent plea to Ilya for permission to interrupt, Alisa addressed me. “We thought you could help with planning.”
Me? Event planning? What’s next? Knitting?
“I know nothing about weddings,” I admitted .
Alisa’s big green eyes pleaded for the lifeline, but it wasn’t just that which convinced me to agree. A part of me awakened, jumping at the opportunity to do the mundane tasks I never got to do.
“Okay,” I agreed.
Flexibility. Another thing I was good at. After everything I’d put myself through, I was sure a couple of decisions about food or whatever else the planning entailed wouldn’t break me.
“We would also be honored if you and Maxim agreed to be our witnesses,” Alisa added.
Upon hearing his sister’s words, we both shared a look, equally confused.
Surely, they were more qualified candidates, some even sitting at the table.
On top of that, I wasn’t sure we should even be alone. I already had a couple of sweet moments in mind, imagining myself making his eyes pop out of his head for that wink.
“Why not Malek?” I whispered discreetly to Ilya sitting next to me. As far as I knew, they were closer, if not the closest.
Ilya’s voice was the Pakhan’s order. “This is the way it’s going to be.”
I wasn’t one to let him boss me around, and I certainly wouldn’t bother asking for permission from him or anyone else, but I also knew how to choose my battles.
Since Alisa was the one who asked, I agreed, preventing us from starting on a bad note.
It wasn’t the task, per se, that bothered me. It was more about how the world would see the move, how the decision would be interpreted. All eyes were on the wedding. Whispers would make the rounds about an outsider this close to the Pakhan.
Soon, they’d surround me like crows, hoping their words would reach higher through me.
Nothing I couldn’t handle, but annoying, nevertheless .
This time, I lowered my head and agreed. “Let me know what’s expected of me.”
“Alisa will fill you in. We’ll meet up later to discuss the details. We have a party and an after-party to get to,” Ilya reminded us of the plan for the day.
His fiancée took that as a dismissal and was the first to stand from the table.
I happily ignored Malek’s attempts to flag me down, following her out of the room, grateful for the meeting to be over.
We settled back at the bar, ordering a round. When the bartender placed the drinks down, I faced the bride.
“You and I will get along just fine. It’s the rest of them I worry about.” I pointed toward the men, still sitting at the table.
“My brothers tend to be a little extra.” Alisa rolled her eyes. “They’re overprotective as heck.”
Once aware of her slip, she covered her mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should at least pretend to have some manners.”
“Just be yourself. No pretending.” I gave her a quick smile. “But I need to know. Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to cancel.”
She nodded swiftly, almost too fast. “I’m certain, but thank you.”
“In that case, what do you need my help with? I know nothing about weddings. This will be my first.”
Shock crossed her soft features. “You’ve never attended a wedding?”
I swallowed the liquid. “I’m not one for socializing.”
Alisa didn’t pry. Instead, she led the way.
“Lucky for you, I have everything planned. I’ve been dreaming about it for years: the dress, the decor, even the venue.
Perfection,” she emphasized the word. “I refuse to settle for less. It’ll make all the other weddings look like a carnival compared to mine. ”
Sounds easy enough, I thought. “Best first wedding I’ll ever go to,” I said, raising my glass.
“Guaranteed.”
I made my first female friend at the age of twenty-three.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11 (Reading here)
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44