Page 31 of Silent Ties (Ruling Love #1)

Maxim

“ C ome outside.”

I shift the phone to my other ear. “And miss the meeting Dad called?”

“Your father’s not even here yet,” Uncle Dima says.

He’s right about that. After a morning of studying, I’ve sat in Elijah’s office waiting for an appearance from our father. He sent a text wanting to meet all three of his sons.

“Seriously, Maxie.” There’s little room for argument in Dima’s voice. “Come outside.”

I open the office door and find Roma outside.

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Elijah tilts back dangerously in his computer chair.

“Did you guys bet I wouldn’t come?” Roma asks.

“In my defense you rarely do.”

“That’s also what all the girls say,” Elijah adds, snickering.

I leave Roma to deal with him, trekking downstairs. Knowing Dima, I exit into a back alley. Trash stinks and a rodent scurries away at my appearance.

Dima casually leans against a brick wall. To his right stands a woman .

I categorize the details: white, blonde, blue eyes. Appears to be my age. Hair tucked into a high bun. She keeps her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. She’s not going to win any fashion awards any time soon. Her style resembles my uncle's and that’s not a good thing.

As a rule, Dima doesn’t like people.

It’s why my dad always did the talking and he hovered in the shadows. He stands easily with this girl and that’s enough to know he’s impressed by her. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be happening.

“This is Isolde,” he introduces, the heel of one of his feet digging into the wall. “I found her wandering outside.”

Another thing that tells me Dima’s intrigued by the girl. He called me directly, bypassing the guards, instead of letting her continue to run around.

“Ren sent me,” she says.

I feel my brow furrow as I try to understand her words.

“She’s from the north,” Dima explains.

“Of where?” I ask.

“England.” A bored expression never wavers from her face.

Right, and people complain about Russian accents being too hard to understand.

“Why’d Ren send you?” I curiously glance at Dima.

“Because she can’t stand your fucking face, can she?” Isolde replies to my question.

More like my brother’s face, but I understand the point.

“All right.” I motion for her to continue.

“Hardin Davison.”

I shrug, not caring.

Dima explains on my behalf. “My nephew doesn’t deal with such unknown lowlifes as Hardin Davison.”

I’m not so sure Uncle Dima knows the name either.

“Well maybe that’s his fucking problem,” Isolde replies .

No wonder this girl gets along with Ren. There are not many who speak to a Zimin like that.

“How about you explain who the fuck he is,” I suggest.

She speaks slowly like I’m dumb. “The father of Daisy Montgomery’s baby.”

I’m annoyed at how little I know about Daisy. She’s an open secret between us, but my wife continues to stay tight-lipped. “Okay?”

Light-colored eyebrows lift. “Hardin Davison belongs to Marissa.”

Marissa keeps a lot of people. She’s worse than a jailer in Rikers with the way she polices her territory.

But Isolde means something else. “They’ve been fucking for years.”

I glance toward Dima. His face remains blank, but his lips press tightly together, working it out.

Everyone is acting like Daisy committed war crimes, but in reality. . .

“Are you saying all of this, her debt, Russet trying to help, it’s cause she got knocked up by Marissa’s side piece?”

Isolde makes a face. “Marissa don’t act like he’s her side piece. Not that she has a heart, but you know.”

“She’s jealous.” A bitter laugh bursts from my chest. “So what, she gets knocked up by Davison and Marissa makes her life hell?”

“Look all we could figure out was Marissa is pissed at this Daisy because she fucked around with her guy. Told Daisy she owed her retribution. That’s where your girl stepped in, and tried to help her out.

Now, as far as I’m aware—”she holds up her hands and starts to walk backward—“that’s all Ren’s got for you. ”

In other words, I can fuck off now.

She ambles away, unhurried and unbothered at turning her back to Dmitri Zimin. His beanie-clad head rocks back and forth as he contemplates the situation.

“Who the fuck is she?” I ask.

“Triggerman,” he replies. “And a fucking good one.”

And now I know why he respects her.

“What is all this bullshit?”

Dima pulls out a cigarette. “Marissa’s always been a vengeful little shit.”

“That’s also how you describe Elijah.” Which isn’t an inaccurate statement. “But all of this, what the fuck is the endgame?”

“Well, see that’s Marissa’s problem. She’s not focused enough on the endgame.”

“She almost took over the harbor operations,” I remind.

Dima takes a drag. “And then she started all these little games. The thing about her is there are sparks of good ideas, but they don’t ever get pulled off.”

“She took out her own husband.”

“She’s lost a chunk of her suppliers to this Ghost,” Dima reminds. “She starts the game but never finishes it.”

“And what about this game?” Why not just kill the cheating bastard like she did with her husband?

Dima takes another leisurely drag of tobacco. “Your grandfather had a saying. It’s okay to be vindictive so long as it’s good for business.”

“This the same guy who blew up five people’s heads in one go?”

Uncle laughs. “Yeah, and that was just business. You grandkids never saw the vindictive side.”

“Okay.” What’s the moral of the story?

“See for us,” Dima says around his cigarette, “a disloyal lover ain’t worth it. Bullet in the back of the head, guard your heart better next time. Marissa, however, punishes the girl. ”

Daisy’s debt.

“Marissa fucks around, thinks she’s really doing something by marrying Russet off to you.” His smirk implies he knows exactly how that went. “Now, I do feel bad for Russie.”

I narrow my eyes in warning at the nickname.

He ignores me. “She’s just being a good friend. But it sounds like Marissa’s in a vindictive mood. While we hone our vindictiveness into a bullet, ready to be lodged at the right moment with the right amount of impact, all it does for her is create a volatile mood.”

“She’s going to get sloppy.”

“She already is.” Dima stubs his cigarette out. “It’s why it’s so easy to rile her up. Your dad’s playing nice and the strategy worked out cause this new guy’s doing all the work for us.”

The Ghost’s closing in on her.

“What about Daisy?” Russet might sleep by my side, but she’s tethered to her friend.

Uncle Dima’s resigned. “I don’t know, kid. I feel for your wife, but we all make our own choices in the end and that’s what this Daisy did by fucking around with what wasn’t hers.”

It’s easy for us to call it what it is and leave it there. Russet can’t, though.

Dima opens the door. “Come on, before your brothers burn down the building.”

Uncle might be joking but it’s an actual miracle to find the place still standing. Roma’s on a couch tossing a ball back and forth with Elijah who’s still behind the computer screen.

Roma checks his watch like he’s itching to get away.

Dima plops down beside him. “His meeting ran late, give him time.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” he asks, frowning.

They chat while Elijah clicks on his computer screen, reading through emails. Everything is calm as it can be when the three of us are trapped in one room until Elijah’s phone lights up.

Russet is calling him.

Elijah snatches it before I have time, a shit eating grin on his mouth.

Propping his feet on the corner of his desk, he leans back practically purring as he answers. “Well, hello, Russet. To what do I owe this favor?—”

Any feeling of rage goes cold when his feet drop to the floor. My brother’s an actor through and through but when his gray eyes flit to Uncle Dima I know this isn’t pretend.

I stand up. “What’s going on?”

He slowly stands. “And why would I do that?” he speaks into the phone.

I can’t make out the answer but Elijah blinks down at his phone, the conversation already over.

“What was that?” Roma asks, eyes wide.

Dima’s already got his phone out. “Signal just went dead, but if I had to guess she’s headed to Marissa’s.”

“What?” Roma asks, confused.

“What,” Dima replies. “I track all you fuckers.”

I fist Elijah’s shirt. “What the fuck did she say?”

“Don’t look at me, brother.” He slaps my hand away, slipping from behind the desk.

Roma’s opened the door, shouting down the hallway.

“What did she say to you?” I shout into his face.

“None of your business.” He types something into his phone before looking up. “But I can tell you this. Your wife just made her move.”

My uncle, the battle-weary strategist, grabs me by the shoulder, shoving me out the door. “Come on.”

There’s a rush. Roma’s already at the car, the guards loading up. Normally, nobody strikes around here without orders from my father .

This is different, though.

We know what the Zimins do with their vindictiveness. And we know about Marissa’s. But all this time it’s Russet’s we should’ve been wondering about.