Kira’s upbringing had been so different from his. And she flaunted it, buying whatever her heart desired, transforming his entire house into her daydreams. She had no worry about money. Not one ounce of fear that it won’t be there tomorrow.
“Any improvement with the wife?”
Maxim stood, pretending not to hear. “I think another circuit would be beneficial.”
“Avoiding it, huh?”
“If the Italians are falling through, I want to go after their customers.”
Lazar stood up, coming around the desk. “You know what? That’s a great idea. And your wife, who speaks multiple languages, would be wonderful to bring along.”
“Lazar–”
He put his hands on Maxim’s shoulders. “I simply want to point out that she is with you now for eternity. You cannot avoid her forever.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Maxim knocked off his hand and went for the door. “A couple of months is hardly anything. I’m sure she’ll be happy to be rid of me so she can destroy the house even further.”
“I love what she did with it. And you would too if you would stop being so prideful!”
The door slammed, and Maxim went for the elevator.
Prideful.He scoffed. It wasn’t pride. It was self-respect.
Which is possibly another word for pride.
Lazar thought it pride or ego for not trusting Kira. But his brother didn’t know that he already had proof of her infidelity. And though that proof was more rumor than actual evidence, it didn’t change it. Kira couldn’t admit that she slept with someone because it would have given him allowance to divorce her. The actual proof he needed was waiting for him to find. The hotel in which Kira had stayed for her bachelorette party refused to give him the evidence without a warrant and no amount of threats had worked. Beating up Kira’s whore hadn’t gotten him a confession either. The man backed up Kira’s story.
Maxim didn’t need physical evidence to be convinced. Women were natural liars, and she was born with a bloodline that made her better than most.
He pressed the elevator button, but the doors opened simultaneously.
Lazar’s wife, Trina, stood there with wide eyes and an open mouth.
Maxim cursed his luck. Then he turned for the stairs.
“Wait.”
He froze, glaring ahead, trying not to feel the weight of her gaze. Trina had beautiful hazel eyes, and if stared at, they could drag you into a hell you can’t crawl out of. She had changed her hair since the last time Maxim saw her. Big, highlighted curls, and he wasn’t going to lie, it looked good on her.
“How are you?”
“Fine.” He forced himself to turn around. Trina wore a red suit and high heels. She always knew how to dress. “What are you doing here?”
She held up a bag. “I made lunch.”
He snorted. “What a wife.”
Trina bowed her head. The silence stretched, and Maxim was over it.
He approached, slowly, to a point that he could see every muscle in her tense. “I take it you haven’t told him?”
Her head lifted in desperation. “Please, Maxim.”
“Two months ago, I walked in on you fucking another man–”
“Shhh, oh god, stop, please.”
“You said you would stop. And you didn’t. Last week, I confronted you, and you said you were going to leave Lazar. So what the fuck are you doing here-” He slapped the food out of her hand. “Acting like a good fucking wife?”
