She’s not wearing anything special. It’s a simple floral off-shoulder sundress with a skirt that hits a couple inches above her knees and shows off a touch of her collarbone, shoulders, and throat. It’s conservative, in that it’s not low cut or too short, but it accentuates her figure like a dream. I can’t stop looking at her and thinking about peeling it off, bit by bit, and unwrapping her like a present.
“Are you even listening, Maxim, dear?” Mother smiles at me as she tugs on my arm. She’s walking with her hand wrapped around my bicep and leaning close. She’s also wearing a dress, though it’s darker and longer and matches her sunglasses and floppy hat.
“Yes, Mother,” I say, which is a lie. I was too busy eye-fucking Siena to have any clue what she’s saying.
Mother laughs, seeing right through me, but doesn’t push. Of everyone in the family, my mother has always been the most patient and kind with me. My father was more like a mentor or a teacher than a parent. I love my siblings, but I’ve always been at a distance.
My mother is my mother. I believe it when she says she loves me. I remember her curling up in my bed when I was little and tucking me in and kissing my forehead. She’d whisper, Momma loves you, little Maxim, don’t you ever forget. That was the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life.
Siena walks on mother’s other side, smiling happily.
“As I was saying, you should take Siena to the ballet. She’d love it. I sponsored the production this year, and I believe it’s one of their best ever.”
“Yes, Mother. The ballet.” I look at the sky. I’d rather blow my own fucking head off. But of course, if it would make my mother happy, I’ll do it.
“I’d love to go,” Siena says, and I glare at her. She looks fucking hot, but she’s walking on thin ice. “I can tell Maxim’s excited too. He always says how impressive your work is.”
Mother laughs lightly and glances at me. “I like this one. She knows just what to say.”
I pat Mother’s hand. “She’s not lying. I am very proud of you.” And it’s true: Mother spends a lot of her time funding and directing various arts programs all over the city. She sponsors underprivileged children and young adults that want to get into art school. My father’s blood money gets funneled into charity, and it’s a net benefit for the city, all thanks to my mother.
We stroll down a quiet block edging up against a small green space and Mother directs us toward a bench beneath the shade of a tree. The street’s busy, but not overcrowded, and it’s a comfortable evening. Mother sighs and stretches, and Siena perches next to her while I linger, still on my feet. I catch sight of some of my men lurking nearby, acting as security. I’d never let my mother or my future wife—or whatever the hell Siena is—go anywhere without protection.
“Have you always lived in Dallas?” Mother asks.
Siena nods. “My whole life.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Brothers,” Siena says, glancing at me.
I frown slightly, remembering Enzo, that wretched dick.
“Brothers, that’s good,” Mother says, patting her knee. “Brothers make you stronger. Just like sisters smooth out some of their rough edges. Right, Maxim?”
“Brothers are a pain and sisters are worse,” I say with a raised chin.
Mother laughs. “He pretends like he doesn’t love his family, but he does.”
“Emiliya is okay. I don’t hate Galina.”
“I think your family seems really nice,” Siena says.
“Well, dear, don’t lay it on too thick,” Mother says, grinning at her. “Nice isn’t the word I’d use. But I’m fond of them nonetheless, and so is Maxim.”
“Fond in the same way I’m fond of animals that don’t bother me.”
Mother slaps my wrist. “Don’t be fresh.”
I grin at her. “Can’t help myself.”
“Siena, how long will you be staying with us? There’s a meal I’d like to cook for you, since my boys so rarely bring a woman to stay with us. Traditional Russian food. Have you ever had it before?”
“Never,” Siena says, glancing at me. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying though.”
“For a while, Mother.”
Mother nods. “That’s good.” She stands with a sigh and I go to help her. “No, no, you two stay. I’m going to head back.” She squints down the block. “I see our shadows over there. Ivan and, who is that? Peter? I’ll have them walk me back.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Enjoy the nice evening. Siena, thank you for walking with me.”
“I hope we can do it again soon,” she says and it sounds like she means it.
Mother beams. “We will.” She waves and walks off.
I watch her go before sinking down beside Siena.
“Well?” she asks. “Does she think we’re in love?”