Page 37 of Silent Ties (Ruling Love #1)

MAXIM

Two Months Later

Christmas is a family affair, void of my mom’s normal long-winded guest list. If my brothers are here, at the family house, they’ve all parked in the garage.

Since we’re late, we park in the driveway right by the front door.

It’s easier to get to the living room this way, instead of dragging all our stuff up the stairs and through the kitchen.

And now days there’s a lot of stuff.

I’ve already got Sailor out of the car, when Russet rounds the SUV.

“I can take her,” Russet says, her breath frosting in the night, as she holds out her arms.

I ignore her, keeping my daughter on my hip and opening the trunk. Sailor looks up to the sky, entranced by the Christmas lights and the snowflakes.

There’s an overflowing amount of presents thanks to Russet being in charge of shopping this year. Using one hand, I start grabbing things, only to pause.

Russet’s next to the open tailgate, but she’s entirely too still in the crisp winter night. “Max, do you still hate me for going to Marissa’s?”

Sailor reaches a hand to the sky, her little fist opening and closing. The thick clouds make the night gray, but the Christmas lights do their best to make up for it.

“You think I’m upset you wanted to kill the people who pimped out a pregnant woman?”

It should be the happiest time of year, but I see it. The painful wound still raw in Russet’s chest.

Time is different when children are involved. So much has happened in the blink of an eye. But her words are a stark reminder of a recent event.

Daisy will never celebrate another Christmas.

I cup her cheek, but after a moment her head falls forward. I wrap my arm around her shoulders into a side hug, Sailor still amused by the snowflakes.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t think you could come to me. That I didn’t protect you or Daisy. That it wasn’t me who killed Marissa,” I tell her.

And trust me, I’ve thought a lot about it. Dad keeps telling me to focus on my wife and daughter but there’s an irksome pang in my side when I think about the Ghost taking out the man who Marissa pimped Daisy out to. That at the very least, should’ve been my kill.

“Are you sorry you married me?” Russet asks.

I promptly drop her arm and grab a present. “I’m not sorry I married you, Mrs. Zimin. I’ll never be sorry about that. But I swear to God if you ask me for a divorce again I will ensure no bakery in this city ever sells you a cupcake again.”

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how ser?—”

“Excuse me!” An enraged Elijah flings open the front door. “Get that baby out of the cold!”

Roma runs out into the driveway, but Elijah blocks him .

“Get out of the way, move.” Elijah plucks Sailor from my arms and marches off.

“That’s my fucking baby, you asshole.” I scowl.

“No one cares if you came to Christmas,” Roma tells me, slamming the door shut behind them.

Russet gathers the rest of the presents quickly. “We should probably?—”

I stop her. Are my brothers annoying? Yes. But they make fantastic babysitters.

I tilt her chin up, biting her lower lip. Her surprised gasp allows me entry and I claim her tongue, taking my time to explore.

“Come on,” I say against her lips. “Before I take you right here, right now.”

Her cheeks flush and it’s not from the cold. I smirk as I grab the last bag and shut the trunk.

Most would find it surprising but the famous Lev Zimin loves Christmas. And since my mom is back in Russia visiting family, we made the trek out here with Sailor.

There’s always been something about this place during wintertime. Despite the large, airy dimensions of the mansion, there’s something warm and cozy about the interior. The lights are a soft yellow and cloves and cinnamon fill the air. It’s loud, but not ear-splitting.

A twelve-foot Christmas tree is lit up with multicolored lights. Perfectly wrapped presents spill out from under it.

Elijah’s sitting in front of the tree, lifting Sailor above him. She gurgles making Roma smile. Albert, the Bernese mountain dog, thumps his tail as he watches.

“Oh, my darling girl.” Irina wraps Russet in a tight hug.

“Hi,” I offer, passing on by to deposit the gifts under the tree.

She squeezes my wife harder, ignoring me. Her smile is tender as she draws back. And like she knows Russet needs a minute, she shuffles over to her other grandsons. She demands to hold the baby in Russian, but Roma’s arguing for custody and Elijah’s not inclined to give Sailor up anyway.

The troublemaker kicks her legs out, but her eyes move around with delight at all the various Christmas decorations.

“Welcome home, son.”

Dad’s got his typical bottle of whiskey in his hand. He wears a suit jacket and a pair of black trousers but his shoulders are relaxed.

“You speak to your mom?” he asks, offering me some whiskey.

I smile in thanks but shrug in response to his question. “Roma told me she got in all right.”

“Your grandmother isn’t doing very well right now.” Dad must see something pass over my face because he moves on. “I’m just saying, Maxie, a phone call won’t kill you.”

But the Christmas spirit doesn’t fill my dad with the urge to get into a fight and I’m relieved. I’m not going to let this night be ruined by ruminating over my mixed feelings regarding my mother.

I clap Dad’s shoulder, offering him a smile and a silent cheers. He dips his head slightly, taking the olive branch and clinks our glasses together.

“You know it’s not been a bad year for you,” he says, smirking into his whiskey.

Next month, Russet and I will celebrate our first wedding anniversary.

“You can expect a time off request for me,” I tell him.

He frowns. “You just came back from paternity leave.”

“Remember when you only gave me the weekend off for my honeymoon?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yeah, all right.”

“All right to what?” Russet appears by my side.

“Nothing.” I warn Dad with a stern look. He backs away to Dima, the pair instantly joking in Russian like they always do.

Since Sailor is still being passed around, I tuck Russet next to me on the couch and drop my head back, relaxing. At least until I feel her patting my thigh.

“Hey,” she says, leaning in closer. “What if we got a dog?”

I smile down at my wife before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I love my wife and daughter, but I still have some limits. “Don’t push it, Mrs. Zimin.”