Maksim
A Dark Mafia Romance (Akimov Bratva)
Nicole Fox
Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Fox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Also by Nicole Fox
Heirs to the Bratva Empire
*Can be read in any order
Kostya
Maksim
Andrei (coming soon!)
Tsezar Bratva
Nightfall (Book 1)
Daybreak (Book 2)
Russian Crime Brotherhood
*Can be read in any order
Owned by the Mob Boss
Unprotected with the Mob Boss
Knocked Up by the Mob Boss
Sold to the Mob Boss
Stolen by the Mob Boss
Trapped with the Mob Boss
Volkov Bratva
Broken Vows (Book 1)
Broken Hope (Book 2)
Other Standalones
Vin: A Mafia Romance
Contents
Maksim
1. Maksim
2. Cassandra
3. Maksim
4. Cassandra
5. Cassandra
6. Cassandra
7. Maksim
8. Cassandra
9. Maksim
10. Maksim
11. Cassandra
12. Cassandra
13. Maksim
14. Cassandra
15. Maksim
16. Cassandra
17. Maksim
18. Cassandra
19. Maksim
20. Cassandra
21. Cassandra
22. Maksim
23. Cassandra
Epilogue
Sneak Preview of KOSTYA
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Maksim A Mafia Billionaire Romance (Akimov Bratva)
He stole my wife from me. I stole his daughter from him.
My sworn enemy murdered my wife in cold blood.
I’ve spent years mourning what he took from me.
Now, the time has come for revenge.
His daughter thinks she escaped from her father’s underworld.
But I’m coming to show Cassandra that she can never run from me.
I’ll find her.
I’ll claim her.
And I’ll Make. Her. Mine.
MAKSIM is a standalone mafia billionaire romance.
1
Maksim
I stand on the terrace of my hotel, watching the lights sparkle. This territory lives and dies under my authority and mine alone. Near the edges, some other scant patches of the city lie dormant and bare. Those areas are owned by the Italians now, but they’ll be burned up soon enough.
I plan to make them suffer while I scrub them from existence.
In my periphery, I see the woman coming out to join me on the terrace. She has that soft smile, soft skin, and soft afterglow that draws in lesser men. But her appearance ignites a sharp irritation in me. I clench my hands on the balustrade, concentrating on the line between Akimov territory and Italian territory.
Her arm wraps around my waist. The edge of the sheet brushes against my leg.
“Come back inside,” she whispers seductively. Her teeth nip at the back of my shoulder.
If I had my way, I’d kill the Balducci family, one by one, those Italian worms. I’d start with Alfio and Mirco Balducci, the brothers of Gianluigi, the don. I’d leave them both broken and bloodied on the streets. I’d go after Gioffre and Federico Jr. next, the don’s cousins. Turn them into target practice.
“Maksim?” the woman asks. “I’m sure I can find something else to do for you.”
“No,” I say curtly.
“Why not?” Her hands move up to my shoulders, running over them with the lightest touch. Her lips trace the back of my ear. “With the way you took me already, I’d love to get my knees scraped up on the carpet for round two.”
When the lesser men had been dispatched, I would go after Colombo and Romano. I’d take out their knees before leaving them dead and headless on the don’s property.
The woman’s hand slides over my legs, over my groin. I grab her wrist, twisting around and pushing her away from me. She stumbles backwards, suddenly wary.
“You need to get your clothes on and fuck off,” I snarl. “My waitstaff is at the door. They’ll give you your money.”
She stares at me for several seconds. She wants to snap back, I can tell. But a girl with her experience has learned better than to mouth off in the company of powerful men. Wise. Cursing at me would not serve her well.
“Well, you can’t blame a girl for wanting a little more from a man like you,” she finally says. All professional. I almost admire her poise. “Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
I turn back toward the city. Turning sex into a business transaction should make these women less insecure and needy, but still, they always want more. They want me to be a crutch, but I’d rather let them stumble.
I will walk my own path alone.
My home stands like a mausoleum, guarded by pillars carved of stone. It glares at me as I drive up. It exudes the image I desire—stay the fuck away. But the opulence is not for bragging. It’s to keep out those who do not belong. Stone is not easily burned or shot through. Bulletproof glass turns away assassins’ bullets.
Yet all these safety measures didn’t do shit for me when it truly mattered.
I unlock the door and step in. Walking down the hallway, a list of tasks I need to complete scrolls through my mind. As I get closer to my conference room, I see the door is open and Ravil is standing in the threshold. His voice carries, curt but bordering on sympathetic.
“As soon as he’s back, you’ll be able to discuss the specifics with him,” he says.
“He’s not as focused as he used to be,” another voice says. My hotel’s CEO, Jonathan Carlson. “Not since the accident.”
Ravil turns his head and sees me. His eyes bulge momentarily before he stands up straighter. “Mr. Akimov. Welcome back. Mr. Carlson kept insisting that he had to see you immediately, so I’ve been keeping him company.”
He steps out of the way as I step up to the threshold. Carlson is a weasel of a man, flabby and always fidgeting.
“Mr. Akimov, there’s an issue with the 19th Street building. I mean, less an issue and more of a complication. Complication might even be a heavy word. The electricians are claiming that we didn’t fully inform them of the scope of their work—”
“Mr. Carlson,” I cut in. “I will deal with the electricians tomorrow. I expect you not to talk about my personal
