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

servants or slaves or something like that. And we’re all working to become the lord of the manor. As a serf, we work in the fields. But, see, you roll the dice, and if you land on these blue squares, you pick up a Trials card and if you land on the yellow squares, you picked up a Golden Opportunity card. You face bandits, the Black Death, hand injuries, um, and you can be banished to the mines. Once you reach a certain amount of money, you can buy more power. Whoever gets to level five power first is the winner. Oh! There’s also the renegade choice—if you choose that, you can earn money twice as fast, but you also have to do a renegade challenge every time you roll above a four. That means you have to do whatever the other players tell you to do.”

“Wow,” I say, more astounded by her enthusiasm than the game.

“I have a question,” Maksim says. I turn to him, waiting for his usual venom to come out—to pick apart a game meant for children. He indicates to the empty game board box. “Where is the money?”

“Oh.” Lily waves her hand. “The boys took it. They were making a rapper video and Tommy burned the money. Mrs. Neal was so mad. There are even burn marks under that rug.”

She gestures to the carpet with the roads on it. She takes a pad of paper out of one of the other game’s boxes.

“But we can just write it down. What game piece do you want?” she asks. “I like the sheep, but if one of you wants it, you can play with it.”

Maksim picks up the pickax. “This is more my style.”

I peek over at him. He spins the pickax between his fingers. I’d say I never pictured him playing well with children, but to be fair, I’ve never pictured him with children at all.

“What is this piece?” I ask, picking up a small piece of plastic.

“That’s from a hairbrush.” Her cheeks turn bright red. “I’ve been trying to gather new pieces. Other kids always take things from the games. This one is from the Pumpkin game. That plastic thing is what they use to bet in poker.”

“I’ll stick with the horseshoe,” I say, picking it up and placing it at the beginning of the board.

Maksim dominates the game. While it’s largely based on chance with the roll of the dice, he chooses to be a renegade and he aces each of his challenges. While he can’t do the cartwheel—which Lily nails—he impresses Lily by doing fifty push-ups within a minute, fifty crunches within a minute, and touching his nose with his tongue. By the end of the game, he’s nearly done a full workout while Lily and I take the safe route.

Maksim rolls a six. He lands on a Golden Opportunity space, earning himself $500 for saving the lord’s life. He jots it down.

“Okay, Lily, what’s my next challenge?” Maksim says. But just as she begins to reply, she’s cut off as Maksim’s phone starts to ring. He checks it.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” he says, standing up. “I have to take this. Since you’re my serfs now, you’re both free to work your own land. Good luck.”

He quickly walks out of the room, bringing the phone up to his ear as he mutters something into it.

“Mrs. A., could I get a drink?” Lily asks.

“Sure.”

We stand up. She leads me back downstairs to the kitchen. “Would you like some juice?” she asks, getting herself a glass.

“No, thank you.”

As she pours herself some orange juice, I hear hushed voices near the entrance of the house. I take a few steps back, peeking out into the hallway, my journalist’s curiosity getting the best of me.

A man in a police uniform is talking to Larry.

“I’m hoping he’ll adjust quickly,” the policeman says. “His parents liked to hit the pipe. When they found him, his diapers were completely soiled and he was dehydrated. We’ve seen worse cases, but these two were pissed when I tried to take him. I almost thought I’d have to use this.” He pats his gun in his holster.

An armed police officer. I could tell him everything—who Maksim is and how he’s keeping me under his thumb, how Lily is my daughter, how she was stolen from me. I’ll tell him anything he needs to know as long as he protects Lily and me. I have all my research stored in my phone. Even if he sees me as a crazy woman, he’s not going to turn away possible information on the Bratva. He’d be hailed a hero. It’s an offer anybody would take.

“Do you like pulp?” Lily asks, breaking through my thoughts. “I hate it. It reminds me of gross stuff. Like jellyfish.”

I look back at her. My daughter. My flesh and blood. God, it takes everything I have to not scoop her up and take her out of here. She may be ten, but I can still see her as that tiny baby.

But I can’t run to a police officer now. The last thing I want is to get her involved in a criminal case.

I look back toward the house entrance. The police officer catches my eye. I give him a quick smile before turning back to Lily.

“I don’t like pulp either,” I tell her. “It ruins the juice.”

There’s the thumping noise of feet coming down the stairs before Maksim appears in the hallway. His face is contorted with irritation and his phone is clenched tightly in his hand.

“It’s time to go,” he says coldly. As he moves toward the door, there’s the slightest hesitation in his step as he sees the police officer, but he recovers quickly, moving past the police officer and Larry.

I turn to Lily. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, taking a sip from her orange juice. The police officer says goodbye to Larry before leaving. I watch him go.

Did I mess up again?

When I didn’t demand that my father tell