Stingray Billionaire: The Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (66 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

Lexi

Max
and I rode into
work together, talking about business and the wedding. I was worried about what
his family would say about this quick union since they lived in Chicago. My
parents were missionaries who moved to a different country every year or two,
and who I had rarely seen since I'd come back to the States to attend school
when I was a teenager. I wouldn't even bother to tell them what had happened
until it was all over and the store was fully funded, and then I'd tell them
the story as though it was one of my greatest roles.

"So, I'm
going to schedule dress fittings and cake tastings for next week," I said
as I marked my to do list in my planner. "Oh, I forgot! I've got my
audition this afternoon; do you mind if I take off a little early for it?"

"Do I have a
choice?" he asked.

"Well, you
are my boss, so I guess you could veto my request." I shrugged, then
grinned. "But as my fake fiancée, that might not be the smartest
move."

"Very well,
if you insist," Max sighed dramatically, making me laugh. He was good at
finding the humor in even the most serious situation, and I appreciated it because
I could tell that he had a lot on his mind.

"Are Petrov's
lawyers coming in with the paperwork today?" I asked.

"This morning
when we open," he nodded. "We'll go over everything, then I’ll sign
the papers and they'll transfer the initial influx of cash."

"What are you
going to do first?" I asked. "With the money?"

"Pay
you," he grinned.

"Very funny,
Mr. Moneybags." I smiled as I lightly swatted his shoulder. "I'm the
least of your expenses."

"Yes, but you
are one of my most valuable investments," he said as he looked at me with
his ice blue eyes. "Therefore, I pay you first."

"I see,"
I nodded, unable to look away. His eyes were full of all the things I knew he
wasn't telling me, and while I wanted to try and pry it out of him, I knew
better than to hound him. Max Malin was not a man who could be hounded into to
disclosing things he wasn't ready to talk about – and his silent stoicism was
also extremely sexy. I finally looked away and consulted my planner as I told
him, "I'll be leaving around three, okay?"

"No problem,
I think I can handle things for a couple of hours," he nodded as he looked
at the screen of his phone and swore quietly under his breath. When he didn't
explain, I knew better than to ask.

Petrov's lawyers
arrived not long after we opened the store, and I sold six pieces while Max was
locked up in the back room with them. It seemed that Sergei Petrov had told
every single person he knew about his experience at the store; they were
flooding in looking for one-of-a-kind pieces that they could give or wear. The
men were charming and eager to find something that would please their wives, so
they trusted me to help them pick out just the right piece of jewelry and then
wrap it up in a showy package that would garner praise and appreciation.

I enjoyed it
almost as much as helping the women who came into the store. They were elegant,
well-dressed women who obviously spent their days taking care of their personal
appearances, and it showed. The beautiful and brightly lacquered nails on their
hands enhanced the beauty of every ring tried on, and their impeccably done
hair and makeup made every set of earrings sparkle and shine brilliantly. It
was like having my own, personal accessory models, and they not only tried
things on, these women bought what they loved. Money was no object.

By the time Max
emerged from the back room to escort the lawyers to the front of the store, I
had sold over $50,000 worth of merchandise. Max looked over the display cases
and made notes on what he needed to replace and what had not yet sold. Then, he
asked me if I'd call and order lunch for us both while he made a few phone
calls. A half an hour later, I brought him a plate of spicy Indian food from
the restaurant down the street and put a cold beer in front of him.

"I'm
working," he said as he looked from the beer to me.

"Yes, but you
just spent the morning locked in a room with lawyers who probably came close to
boring you to death." I smiled. "You deserve a reward for
surviving."

"You're a
great fake fiancée; you know that, don't you?" he laughed.

"I'm doing my
best to be nice to the boss who finds me so valuable," I said quietly. Max
looked up at me and for a moment, I seriously thought about leaning down and
kissing those soft, full lips. It wouldn't have taken much for me to do it, but
good sense won out and I cleared my throat before asking, "Need anything
else right now?"

"No, I'm
good. Thank you, Lexi," he said as he dug into the plate of chicken tikka
and then drank deeply from the bottle I'd left on his desk. "I'll come out
as soon as I'm done and give you a break."

"No
worries," I said as I tried very hard to calm the storm that was brewing
inside and tamp down the ache I felt every time I was near him. "I'm good.
All good."

After lunch, we
worked together on the sales floor until around three o'clock, when I packed up
my things and told him I was heading out for my audition. I double and tripled
checked that I had my script and made sure that I knew exactly where I was
going before I headed out the door.

"Break a leg,
fiancée," Max deadpanned as I pushed the door open.

"I'll do my
best, Mr. Malin," I smiled as I stepped out into the sunshine and headed
toward yet another possible future.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

Max

Without
Lexi in the showroom, the store felt empty, and I was rather surprised by how
such a small person could fill such a large space. I busied myself polishing
the display cases and making phone calls from the sales floor. Just before
closing, I looked up to see a familiar face enter.

"Hello,
Papa," I said warily as I watched my father scan the store and then look
back at me. There was something dark in his eyes, and I knew from experience
that he was either angry or, worse, drunk.

"Maksimka!"
my father called as he walked toward me. "Why are you staying away from
me?"

"What are you
talking about?" I asked as I stood still behind a display case that I'd
been polishing. "I just came and saw you a few days ago."

"Come give
your Papa a big hug, Maksimka!" he bellowed. He was drunk, and now I knew
how to deal with him, but it was going to be tricky. One wrong move and there
would be hell to pay. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him hugging him
tightly.

"I'm glad you
could come visit the store, Papa," I lied.

"No you're
not, don't lie to me, Maksim," he said in a voice that made me recoil. He
was angry with me already and nothing I could do would placate him. I was going
to have to weather whatever it was he was here to deliver and then walk away. I
glanced around the showroom and sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn't do
anything violent. "
Moj syn, moj syn,
moj syn
, what are you doing here? What are you doing in a place like this?
This is the place of the rich boys who have no balls, the weak and soft. What
is a strong boy like you doing here, Maksim?"

I knew he was
baiting me, so I held back and listened. He wanted something, this much I knew
already, but specifically what he wanted, I had no idea. I knew that if I
listened, he'd eventually tell me.

"Ah, this is
beautiful, very Russian," he said as he walked around the showroom,
peering into display cases and clicking his tongue. "You've picked out the
best of the best, haven't you? Very nice. Your mother loved these kinds of
pieces. She always asked me to find her favorites."

My heart started
racing as he began speaking about my mother. This was a conversation I did not
want to have because I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my cool if he started
spewing his self-righteous tale of love and destiny. In my mind, he was
responsible for my mother's death, and nothing he could ever say would change
that fact, but I wasn't about to challenge him on it when he was drunk.

"Yes,
Papa," I said.

"What? You
don't believe me?" he yelled. "I always brought your mother a
beautiful piece of jewelry when I traveled!"

"Yes,
Papa," I repeating the phrase I'd learned was the only way to walk the
line with him when he was like this. When I was fifteen, I'd made the mistake
of trying to buck him when he was drunk, and he'd given me a lesson that left a
scar across the side of my abdomen where he'd sliced me with a knife when I'd
given him a flip response to a question that he'd considered serious in his
drunken state. After that, I'd learned simply to respond with a simple
"Yes, Papa," and never look him in the eye.

"You're such
a wise guy, you know," he said as he leaned on a display case tapping the
glass with his thick, dirty fingertip. "You think you can escape into this
life? You think you're so much better than your brother and I, don't you? You
move away from the neighborhood, buy a place in the rich part of town, and open
this shop thinking you can escape and avoid the
bratán
. But you can't, Maksim."

"Yes,
Papa," I said warily, eyeing his shoes and dirty work pants.

"Don't YES
PAPA ME!" he bellowed as he slammed his fist down into the display case,
causing the jewelry inside to rattle and shift. The cases were made of
shatterproof glass – a safety measure that I was now very glad I'd invested in.
"Don't give me the wise-guy yes Papa bullshit, Maksim! I'm your father and
I deserve respect!"

"I
understand, Papa," I said, trying to avoid enraging him further, but he
wasn't having it tonight and he flew across the floor and launched himself at
me, fists flying as he sought out a way to let go of the rage and pain. I
stepped back and he fell on the floor in front of me at my feet. "Papa,
please…" I said as I stretched out my hand to try and help him up.

"Don't!"
he growled as he pushed himself up off of the floor and stood staring at me for
a long time. "You need to come home, Maksimka. This war is growing worse
by the day and we have no one who can lead."

"You are
leading, Papa," I said, watching him warily.

"I'm not
leading anymore, Maksim. I'm an old man and the young boys don't respect the
old ways; they need a new leader. A leader who knows how to speak their
language," he said in a voice that was both resigned and rebellious.
"I am part of the old country; I don't know what they know. I don't run in
the streets like they do or do the things they do. We didn't have cell phones
and technology when I ran the
vory v
zakone
when we first came to this country. Everything had changed, Maksim.
Everything. It's time for new."

"Three
months, Papa," I said, knowing that I had to stick to my guns or he would
break me down and ruin any chance I had of getting out for good. I felt sad for
my father, but there was nothing I could do to change what he'd been through or
where he was headed. He'd made his own bed, now it was time for him to lie in
it.

"We may not
have three months, Maksim," my father replied quietly. "I know you
think I'm trying to trick you or trap you into coming back, but the truth is
that we don't have a lot of time. They young ones are killing each other in the
streets and we need to stop it. We need someone who can negotiate a truce and
keep the boys under an iron fist so that they don't run the business into the
ground."

"Papa, you
promised me three months," I said in a tone that gave away neither anger
nor sympathy. "I'm going to do this for three months and then if I can't
earn my first million, I will sell the shop and come back."

"You are a
hard boy, Maksimka," my father said. 'You've always been a hard boy, not
like Kristov. He's tough, but he's not hard and hard is what we need to
maintain a hold on the business."

"I
understand, Papa," I nodded. "Three months."

My father nodded
and then turned and slowly walked toward the front door. When he reached it, he
stopped and turned around to look at me.

"I know you
think I am responsible for your mother's death, Maksim," he said quietly
as he shook his head sadly. "I'm not. I loved your mother than life
itself. I would never have hurt her, but whether or not you choose to believe
that is always up to you. I'm just your father." And with that, he turned
and walked out the door.

When it clicked
behind him, I quickly walked over and turned the lock so that no one else could
come in and then I went back to the office and sat with my head in my hands
until the pounding in my chest slowed and my hands were no longer shaking.