Maksim: A Dark Mafia Romance (Akimov Bratva), Nicole Fox [love letters to the dead txt] 📗

of a firecracker,” Maksim says. “But I’m also curious about the children. You mentioned that you have seven foster children?”

“Seven?” I coolly look over at Maksim, but he keeps his gaze on the Neals.

“Yes. Three girls and four boys. They’re separated into two rooms.”

“Only two?” I ask.

“Yes,” Kimberly says tightly. “Only two. It’s good for them. They learn to share and they have their foster siblings to confide in.”

“But they don’t have privacy,” I argue.

“They’re children. They don’t require privacy and their safety is more important than their ability to keep secrets.”

I grab Maksim’s hand before he can put it on my knee again. I squeeze it, an indication that I don’t have time for his reprimands.

“How does privacy compromise their safety?” I ask.

“When children are alone, they’re unafraid of being tattled on,” Kimberly says coldly. “It’s something you’d understand if you had children.”

I jolt out of my seat, my anger giving me tunnel vision.

“Cass,” Maksim commands, grabbing my wrist. I shake him off.

“No. I’m not going to let her act like she’s doing something benevolent when she’s just collecting a—”

“Cassie,” he repeats. “The child is here.”

When he says “the child,” I hear the emphasis. I turn toward him. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking to his left, where Lily is standing.

When I first saw her, I didn’t know she was my daughter and by the time I did, I only saw the back of her head. Now that she’s facing me, I can see that she is beautiful in a way that defies reason. Or DNA.

Her biological father was a random hookup. Even through drunk eyes, he wasn’t particularly handsome. He was an average-looking man who said all the right things at a high school party. It meant nothing, but somehow we made a child who is almost strangely stunning—the cute button nose, the flawless complexion with the silky dark hair, and the penetrating dark eyes elevate her to a new level of beautiful.

“Ah, this is Lily,” Kimberly says, indicating for Lily to step forward. I sit back down. “Lily, these are Mr. and Mrs. Akimov.”

“Nice to meet you,” she mumbles.

When my water broke, I started bawling my eyes out. There wasn’t any specific fear dominating my thoughts, but thousands of concerns stampeding in my head—how was I going to support a baby? Would it be more of a disservice to keep my daughter around the Mafia or to cut her off from all my resources? How was I possibly going to raise a baby when I had spent no time around babies? What about SIDS? Colic? Whooping cough? All the sharp objects, significant falls, and electronic devices that could kill a baby?

I drove to the hospital as the contractions ripped through me. On the hospital bed, the pain became worse. I was worried that something was wrong, but the doctor assured me that the pain was normal. He asked me about calling someone to support me.

I told him there was no one.

I gave birth alone. In my exhaustion after the labor, I don’t remember much, but I remember seeing my father. I remember him telling me everything was going to be taken care of.

And, while I was sleeping, my daughter was taken.

Maksim’s arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me to reality and pulling me back to the present moment. His lips brush against my temple, a few words slipping out under his breath.

“You can handle this.”

I cling to his words, pretending that each one is a shot of courage.

“Lily,” Kimberly says. “This nice couple is interested in meeting everyone. Why don’t you take them to meet your siblings? Larry and I need to wait for Sammy to arrive.”

Lily nods, her hair sliding in front of her face. She doesn’t push it away from her eyes. She gives Maksim and me a tiny smile before gesturing for us to follow her. I stand up, slightly unsteady, and I follow her. I feel Maksim shadow us.

We walk up a set of stairs. They’re wooden and seem slippery for a group of children to be consistently running up and down. Once we’re all at the top, Lily looks over the edge of the handrail. When she looks back at us, her eyes light up.

“You don’t really want to meet the others, right? I gotta show you something. It’s super cool.”

She takes my hand and guides me into a room on the left. It looks like some type of playroom with two couches and an armchair in front of a TV, a plastic table with board games stacked beside it, and a carpet that resembles town roads. There’s a bucket filled with toy cars placed on the far corner of the carpet.

“Look, look.” Lily lets go of my hand, rushing behind the green couch. I follow her. Behind the couch, there are stacks of boxes. She flips open one of the sides. “Look inside.”

I get on my hands and knees. The hole is cut big enough that I can get my shoulders inside. All the boxes are cut and taped together, making a much larger box and the inside is colored with stars and planets.

“That is very cool,” I say. “Did you do this by yourself?”

“Yeah,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But it’s my own place. Or until one of the other kids sits on it. Hey, do you like the game Serfdom?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, crawling back out of the boxes. “I’ve never played it.”

“Do you have time? Can we play it now?” she asks. I nod. She rushes over to the board games, pulling out one of the more tattered boxes. She and I sit at the table. She gestures to Maksim, who is lingering at the door. “Come on. I’ll teach you both how to play.”

Maksim strides over, sitting down in one of the small plastic chairs. I almost expect the plastic to crack, but it bears his weight.

“So,” she says, unfolding the game board. “We all start as serfs, which are, um,