The Promise (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 2), Bethany-Kris [top 50 books to read .txt] 📗

done something—no matter how small—to change the future. At least for one of his children.

His most precious child.

Once, a long time ago, one of the mothers of his children told him something he hadn’t been able to forget. And while he flaunted his sins without shame, he’d never been able to get her words out of his head. It had become a constant reminder that even if he didn’t care what kind of man he was, people who loved him did.

None of these babies have asked to be born into the world they live in—they didn’t ask for us, Maxim. They didn’t choose this life, but you did. Don’t they at the very least, deserve to be loved?

He’d laughed at her that night when she implored him to show even an inkling of affection towards her child. He’d just accepted his life for what it was, then—and he hoped his kids would do the same because he’d never believed there was another way. After all, everything he did was to keep him, and them, alive. He had to be a boss before he could ever be a father.

Now, regret for those choices and beliefs filled him like bricks weighing down his body as he slowly sunk to the proverbial death of his own making.

Standing in his office, only the moonlight rolling in through the windows illuminating the rest of the space he felt most at home, Maxim rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt while a cigar burned between his teeth. He’d already spent too much time pacing, and thinking. Overthinking, maybe.

His laptop was open on his desk, spilling a glow of light across the items scattered there. He continued the strides back and forth in front of it, keeping his eye on the screen, trying to decide his next move.

Demyan Avdonin had been calling for days. He’d even sent emails, and a text, putting a record on paper in a way men like them usually wouldn’t. Maxim ignored all attempts the man made to contact him either way. He knew what his next steps for the night were going to be, but he hadn’t figured Demyan into his plans, too.

Until time ran out.

Calling him back was not a part of the program, in fact, things would be a lot cleaner on his end if he just burned that bridge without even watching it go. And yet, he couldn’t do it.

His foolish sense of duty to the only man he had actually considered a real friend kept his gaze locked on that screen, his conscience demanding him to call. Just to tie the loose ends. He owed it to Demyan, didn’t he?

The mess he must have ...

Karine, and Roman.

Surely.

He had never been the type who valued friendship—until a man who should have been his rival, and was, expected nothing except respect and good conversation whenever the two managed to get together. So, fuck it. He knew he was running short on time, and he owed Demyan a phone call.

What more did he have to lose?

He clicked on the video call link that took him to a blank screen. For a split second, he nearly ended the call. What were the chances the man would even answer? It was past two in the morning over in New York, and Demyan had always struck him as the kind of man who didn’t work late.

A family man, Leonid had once told him about Demyan. As if it was a bad thing, and at the time, Maxim might have agreed.

Maxim grunted, displeased, at the thought, just as Demyan answered. The screen filled with a view of Demyan’s office. Sitting at his desk and looking tired, his friend stared back at him as if he wasn’t at all surprised.

Maxim reduced the volume on his laptop, and immediately resumed his pacing. At least, he felt like he was doing something, then.

“Looks like we’re both working late. I’ve been waiting to hear back from you.”

“I’ve been busy,” Maxim replied, shooting a grin his friend’s way. It was a genuine excuse—there were a lot of things he needed to handle in the last few days since Roman and Karine left. “Tends to happen when you have an entire plot unfolding beneath your feet, yes? And a wedding that didn’t happen, of course.”

The bride disappearing was simply the cherry on top of an already messy cake. It certainly put a kink in the other plans that he had found out about a little too late. Heads were going to roll, and Maxim had been busy trying to keep things under control within the bratva. Well, for as long as he could.

The inevitable was still ... inevitable.

Demyan didn’t seem to care to reply to the excuse, but his gaze followed Maxim’s pacing form on his own screen.

“Something on your mind, comrade?” he asked.

Maxim stopped and turned to face the laptop. “Isn’t there always?”

“You could have just called me instead of this video chat nonsense. I fully intend on this being an official call. I don’t know if you’ve been reading my emails, but I even offered to fly down there and talk to you face-to-face. If you need men or—”

“You don’t need to come down, and this is not an official call,” Maxim interjected, wanting both of those things very clear between them. “I am going to delete the records of this phone call, and you should do the same once we’re done.”

Demyan dragged in a heavy breath, exhaling loudly. He didn’t commit to Maxim’s demand, but he doubted the man would risk the blowback he might face otherwise.

Then, Demyan said, “If you called to start this conversation with anything except exactly what’s going on there, I don’t care to hear it, Maxim. When we first spoke about Roman’s situation, we didn’t decide on him returning to New York with an unstable girl in tow.”

Maxim showed great self-control by not flinching when he heard his daughter described as unstable. He really had no right to be pissed about the