Stingray Billionaire: The Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (70 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

Max

"
My
, my, my, she's certainly a cute one, isn't
she?" Natalia teased as we rode to the theater. She reached out to run her
hand down my thigh, but I shifted away.

"You didn't
have to be so rude to her," I scolded and looked out the window.

"You're
mad," she observed. "You're always a pain when you're crushing out
over some new girl. This too shall pass, Max."

"It's not
Lexi," I said darkly.

"Then, what's
got you so moody tonight?" she asked impatiently. "You're not going
to be any fun if you keep this up, and I've arranged for you to meet some
potential investors tonight, so you'd better put on a cheerful face or they're
going to be completely turned off by your bad attitude."

"Kristov is
dead," I said flatly.

"What?"
she gasped and reached for my hand. "Oh, Max, no!"

"He was
executed this morning in his bedroom," I said without looking at her. I
pulled my hand away and stared out the window as I recalled the scene and the
way in which I found my brother. "He was with a couple of girls. They were
killed, too."

"What did Vladimir
say?" she quickly asked. "He must be enraged."

"He was
surprisingly calm," I admitted. "But he put the onus on me to find
the killers and avenge Kristov's death. I have no idea who did this, but I am
going to make them pay once I find them."

"How can I
help?" Natalia's ability to change gears and adjust to the situation was
one of the things I valued most about her. She might have started the night
trying to seduce me, but now that she knew the situation, she switched into
action mode and pushed everything else aside.

"Can you put
out some feelers and see who's out there talking about it?" I gripped her
hand and squeezed tightly. She nodded as she returned the squeeze.

We didn't talk
about Kristov for the rest of the evening. Instead, Natalia took control as she
smiled and small talked her way through the crowds of people in the lobby. She
introduced me to a number of potential investors, and then led the conversation
toward light topics, rather than business. She did all of the work as I hung
back and tried to figure out my next move – and kept trying to push Lexi and
the way her body had felt pressed against mine out of my mind.

I was relieved
when we finally found our seats and the lights went down. Despite my protests,
I actually enjoyed Ibsen's work and Nora's dilemma took my mind off of my
problems for a short time. However, nothing to could take my mind completely
off of Lexi. During the intermission, I tried to call her, but her phone went
straight to voicemail. I spent the next hour trying to focus Nora's attempts to
solve her problem with Torvald and the loan she'd secretly taken out, but it
did little good and my mind wandered back to the penthouse as I wondered what
Lexi was doing and why she hadn't answered my call.

When the curtain
rose, Nat leaned over and whispered, "Go home. Go find her and figure out
what's going on."

"Am I that
obvious?" I chuckled.

"Probably not
to everyone," she replied, patting my arm. "But I've known you for
most of my life. Go find Lexi, Max. I'll put out the word on the street and see
what I can come up with about Kristov."

I winced when she
said his name, causing her to pull me into a hug. I was grateful, but I didn't
have time for sentimentality. I needed to find out who had killed my brother
before Papa did. If he found them first, then there would be an all-out war. If
I could find them, though, I could take care of the problem quickly and
efficiently without the mess. It wasn't that I was less brutal than Papa, it's
just that I had subtler ways of dealing with those who acted out against the
family. The man who killed my brother would pay – that much was certain.

"Go to
her," Natalia urged, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I've got work to
do here."

"Yeah,
sure," I nodded as I turned and walked toward the waiting car. When I
turned back to look at Natalia, she had disappeared into the crowd.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT

Lexi

After
Max and Natalia had left for the theater, I poured myself a glass of wine and
took it out on the balcony, where I sat and thought about how stupid I'd been
for harboring some silly little fantasy about how Max might be the handsome
prince who would sweep me off my feet and carry me away to happily-ever-after
land. I hadn't realized I'd actually been thinking that until Natalia had shown
up and blown the fragile dream to bits with her presence.

I grabbed my phone
and dialed Viv. She picked up on the third ring and sounded out of breath.

"Hey, Wally,
what's up?" she asked.

"What in the
heck are you doing, Viv?" I laughed as she breathed heavily into the
phone. "You sound like an obscene phone caller!"

"I'm working
out!" she said. "I've got to be able to fit into whatever insanely
form-fitting bridesmaid dress you pick out and I've only got a month."

"Viv?" I
said shaking my head on the other end. "You do realize that this isn't
real, don't you? The wedding, the dresses, none of it is for an actual wedding.
It's a publicity stunt designed to garner attention for investors."

"I don't care
if it's nothing but an excuse for a shopping trip with my best friend,"
she laughed. "I'm still going to be able to fit into a smoking hot
dress!"

"You're
crazy, you know that, right?"

"Crazy as a
fox!" she replied. "What's going on?"

"I need
advice," I admitted. I hadn't told Viv how I felt about Max, but she'd
been pushing me to take things further since the start of the whole adventure.
I hadn't told her about the night before, and I wasn't sure I wanted to, but
telling the story without all the parts seemed counterproductive.

"Hit me up,
I'll give it free of charge," she panted. "But I'm going into aerobic
mode, so just keep talking for the next five minutes while I climb this
hill."

"We fooled
around last night, Viv," I said, deciding to go straight for the truth.

"Wait,
what?" I heard something clunk in the background. "I've got to sit
down to hear this. Okay, lay it on me."

I told her about
our dinner on the balcony and how it had turned into a seriously heavy petting
session that ended with mutual masturbation. And then, I told her how I'd run
back to my own bedroom and left him sleeping on the chaise.

"You left Max
Malin sleeping on a chaise on the balcony of his penthouse after the two of you
had mutually satisfied each other, but not had sex?" she asked. "Am I
getting the story right?"

"Yes,
Viv," I said rolling my eyes.

"Don't roll
your eyes at me," she warned then added, "And don't act surprised
that I know you're doing it."

"You're
impossible," I laughed.

"No, you're
the impossible one," she gently scolded. "Jeez, Wally, what the hell?
Why aren't you buffing his brains out tonight?"

"Now, we're
getting to the problem," I said. "He's already got a
girlfriend."

"Huh? How is
that possible?" she said.

"She showed
up to take him to the theater tonight," I sighed. "She's gorgeous.
Tall, curvy, impeccable taste in clothes and jewelry, and they've known each
other since they were teens. What else could you want? It's like a fairytale
story – one that doesn't have room for me in it."

"Oh give me a
break," she said, and this time, I could hear her rolling her eyes.
"He's not involved with her. They're BFFs, it's the most common thing in
the world."

"What are you
talking about?" I laughed. "It's not common!"

"Of course it
is," she replied. "Case in point, Rory Michaels."

"What about
him?"

"He's my Max,
and I'm his Natalie."

"Natalia,"
I corrected her.

"Whatever,"
she said impatiently. "The point is that he and I go places, do things,
hang out, and have sex – pretty damn good sex, I might add – but we're not a
couple, nor will we ever be."

"Why
not?" I asked, truly confused by what she was saying.

"Oh please,
Rory? Give me a break!"

"Wait, you're
doing everything a girlfriend would do with a boyfriend, but you won't ever
consider him your boyfriend?" I couldn't wrap my brain around what she was
saying.

"Yep, that's
it exactly," she said.

"That is
seriously messed up." I shook my head trying to process it. "What if
one of you meets someone you want to actually date?"

"Then, the
other one backs off and lets go," she said. "It happens all the time.
What world are you living in, Wally? Have you not heard of this before?"

"No! I've
never heard of this; it's insane!" I cried. "I don't…oh forget
it."

"I know, you
can't wrap your pretty little brain around it," she laughed. "You
really need to read
The Ethical Slut
,
girlfriend. I've been pushing it ever since I took History of Sexuality at
DePaul. It changed my life."

"So, now
you're recommending a course in ethical non-monogamy to help solve my
problems?" I laughed. Leave it to Viv to use my personal relationship
anguish to push her polyamory agenda. "I think I'll pass this time, Viv.
But you've given me something to consider."

"I'm just
saying that while it might look like he's involved with the woman, he might not
actually be," she offered. "You'll never know until you ask. Use your
words, my little friend. Use your words. You might be pleasantly surprised at
what you find."

"Fine,
whatever," I said in an exasperated tone. "I'll ask. I'll ask when he
gets home."

"No, you
won't," she laughed. "But at least you'll keep your mind open to
other possibilities!"

"Viv, you're
a real pill, you know that don't you?" I sighed.

"Yeah, but
you love me," she laughed. "Now, I need to get back to climbing this
mountain, so that I can fit into the dress! I'll see you tomorrow for our
shopping trip!"

"See you
tomorrow, and Viv?" I said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"That's what
I'm here for, Wally! Love ya, babe!" she replied before disconnecting.

I sat looking out
over the city as the lights twinkled and the traffic moved below and wondered
if Viv was right. If she was, this would open a new door between Max and I.

I just hoped I was
prepared to walk through it.

CHAPTER
THRITY-NINE

Max

We
were halfway home
when my phone rang. The number was the landline at Ursus, and when I answered,
the voice on the other end was Feliks, my father's right hand man.

"Maksim, you
need to come to the bar now," he said. "Your father had been injured
and we need to talk."

"What do you
mean, injured?" I asked.

"Come to Ursus,
now," he said before disconnecting. It was just like my father to have one
of his men call and drop a bomb without explaining, but after Kristov's murder
this morning, I wasn't going to question it. I redirected my driver and stared
out the window, silently watching the darkened city streets rush by. I'd talk
with Lexi later. Right now, I had to find out what was going on.

When I walked into
the bar, I noticed that one of the mirrors behind the liquor display had been
shattered and only jagged fragments remained. The bartender pointed in the
direction of the back room as he continued sweeping up the mess, and I followed
his directions.

"Papa? Papa,
what happened here?" I called as I walked through the door leading to the
private meeting room my father had built for the
bratán
.

"
Zhopa
!" he swore angrily.
"That's what happened! Those
zhopan
come into my bar and start trouble, and I'm going to end it!"

"Papa, what
the hell happened?" I asked trying to hide the shock of what I was seeing.
Papa was sitting on a chair off to the side of the huge round table where he
and his
bratán
held meetings and
often played dice or cards while they drank. He was holding a bag of ice over
one eye, and when he pulled it away to show me, I could see that he'd been
badly beaten. His eye was red and completely swollen shut and his lip was still
trickling blood where it had been split. Sitting next to him was his personal
physician and best friend, who was working with a set of well-worn tools as he
set what appeared to be a broken wrist.

"It's the
young thugs, Maksimka," my father shook his head wearily and winced as the
doctor realigned his wrist before wrapping it and starting to apply the cast
material. Papa quietly said something to him in Russian before turning his
attention back to me. "It's Dementyev's boys. I've seen them before.
They're ruthless."

"But what
happened? How did they get you?" I asked, unable to believe that a group
of young thugs could have gotten through my father's guards. I turned and
looked at them.

"Don't get
upset with them, Maksimka," Papa gently scolded. "I tangled with the
young ones. They were disturbing business, and I'd had enough of their drunken
outbursts!"

He described how
the boys had come in, loud and rowdy, and begun picking fights with various
patrons. Knowing what had happened with Kristov, no one wanted to engage with
the thugs, but they persisted until my father had come out from the back room
and demanded they leave. At that point, one of the thugs had challenged Papa to
a fight and when he'd laughed and told him that he wasn't going to fight a baby
kitten, they boy lunged at Papa and punched him. Papa had put up a good fight,
Feliks assured me, but the other boys had held the rest of the crowd at
gunpoint while Papa and the ringleader had duked it out.

When the thug had
decided he'd had enough, he whistled to the ones holding the guns and they'd
all run out, but not before the leader stopped and spit on the bar and dropped
his calling card. Papa handed it over to me to look at. It was a plain white
business card with an intricate Celtic cross in the center and
MIR
, the Russian word for peace,
inscribed underneath it.

"I don't get
it," I said as I looked down at the card and back at Papa. "What does
this mean?"

"In Moscow,
the Celtic cross was a symbol of the white power movement," he explained
as he knocked back the shot of vodka Feliks put in front of him. "They're
racist bastards. And the word
MIR
is
peace, but it also means that he'll only be reformed by a firing squad. It's a
death wish, Maksim."

"But why are
they after you, Papa? What do they want?"

"Maksim, this
is why I needed you to come back and help your brother," he said quietly.
"The wolves are circling. That
sookin
syn
Dementyev is trying to take over all the business on the West Side and
he's a snake. He has no respect for traditions. He has no honor."

"Do you think
those are the ones who killed Kristov?" I asked in a low voice. "Did
they do it, Papa?"

"No, Maksim,
they're too young and foolish," he shook his head and looked down at the
cast on his arm. "They have no self-control. The ones who killed Kristov
are disciplined. They are soldiers."

I nodded and stood
silently, waiting for my father to tell me what it was he wanted me to do.
Years of conditioning had made me wary of proposing any ideas or plans unless
he'd deemed them worthy, but looking down at him, it dawned on me that he was
an old man. He looked fragile and tired, and I worried that the reason
everything was going to hell was because he wasn't strong enough to lead.

Secretly, I also
worried that Kristov had made enemies that my father knew nothing about and
that this wave of attack had nothing to do with Papa and everything to do with
my brother. I ran my hand through my hair and shook my head as I tried to sort
it all out. I looked at Papa, then around the room at the
bratán
who stood faithfully guarding him. They would protect him
while I figured out what to do next. I had to trust that they would, and when I
scanned the room, each one nodded almost imperceptibly as if they knew what I
was thinking and were agreeing to shoulder the burden.

"Papa, I want
you to go home and stay there," I said. I knew I was taking a risk in
ordering him around in front of his men, but I also knew that someone had to
step up and take charge right now. And the way I figured, it was better me than
an outsider. "I need to figure some things out and I can't do that if I'm
worried about you being killed here in the bar."

"I can't take
time off!" he bellowed as he slammed his newly casted hand down on the
table. The roar of pain that followed caused us all to look away. Right now,
Vladimir Malinchenko was a broken man, and I would have to step in and take his
place.

"Go home,
Papa," I said as I looked at Feliks. "Go home and just rest for a few
days until I get this straightened out. Just give me a few days, please?"

"Fine,"
he grumbled as he peered at me with one eye. "Do what you need to do. I'll
stay home for three days. But just three! Do you understand me, Maksim? Three
days!"

"Yes,
Papa," I replied dutifully. I knew I would probably need a lot more time
than that, but three days was a good start.